Page 25 of The Way Back Home
She shook her head. “I’m good.”
The server returned with coffee and ice water. Noah ordered two slices of pie.
“I told you, I’m not hungry,” she grumbled.
“Who says one’s for you?”
She couldn’t help it. Her lips quirked. Something that seemed to happen frequently in Noah’s presence.
The waitress brought two plates, each with a slice of warm apple pie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and placed one in front of each of them. Noah wasted no time digging into his. With his other hand, he discreetly nudged Teagan’s plate closer to her until it threatened to fall off the table and into her lap.
“Seriously?”
His answer was a half smile that sent butterflies fluttering behind her rib cage. It was a good thing he didn’t do it often.
Partly to appease him and partly because the pie smelled delicious, she took her spoon and carved out a small bite. Noah’s head remained fixed on his plate, but his triumphant smile was easily visible.
The first bite went down easy. The second and third, even more so. Before she knew it, she was scraping the last bits of flaky crust and melted ice cream onto her spoon. Wisely, Noah didn’t comment.
“So,” he said once the waitress cleared their plates away.
“So,” she echoed.
“What’s your plan?”
She blinked. “My plan?”
“Yeah, your plan. Unless you’re thinking of just sticking with the transient thing.”
“Works for Jack Reacher.”
He smiled at that. “Seriously though, what are you doing for the holidays?”
Possibly signing my own death warrant. Going public with the truth was going to be ugly and messy. The real challenge was going to be getting anyone to believe her. But she had to try.
Aloud, she said, “Holidays aren’t a big thing for me.”
“Hmm,” Noah hummed.
Expecting to find pity or sympathy in his eyes, she reluctantly lifted her gaze to his—and found neither. He looked contemplative, like he was working through something in his head.
“My folks always make a big deal out of Christmas,” he said finally, a nostalgic smile curving his lips. “My dad goes all out on lights. I swear you can see the house from across the valley, it’s so bright. I can’t even tell you how many cookies my mom makes, but it’s a lot. We each have our favorites, and she likes everyone to be happy.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It is.” He paused. “I’m guessing your experience is different.”
Different didn’t even begin to cover it. There were no lights at her house. No festive decorations. No baking, no gifts, no carols or a tree. Most of her Christmases had been spent hiding from her alcoholic, abusive stepfather.
What she said was both brilliant and eloquent. “Yeah. A little.”
He cleared his throat. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you spend the holidays with me this year?”
Teagan choked on the water she’d been in the process of swallowing. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Spend the holidays with me.”
Yep, she’d heard him right the first time, and it didn’t make any more sense the second time around.
