Page 36 of Tinsel & Tools
I reached for my wallet, but Gavin was quicker.
“I’ve got it.” He passed her a bill before I could argue and handed me one of the cups.
The heat warmed my hands through the cardboard sleeve. I took a sip, the peppermint sharp against the chocolate. “Not bad, huh?”
“Not bad?” He grinned over the rim of his cup. “This is the best peppermint mocha I’ve ever had.”
We moved on, weaving past the last few booths. The crowd was thinning, families were pulling kids toward home.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Didn’t get that far.”
“Cornerstone Diner’s open. We can grab something.”
He grinned. “If you’re offering, I won’t argue.”
Did my offer make it a date? No. That couldn’t be the case. It was just a meal at the diner.
We crossed to the far side of the square, past the glowing storefronts with wreaths in every window. Outside Lynann’s Bookstore, kids were pressed up against the glass, shouting each time the train display lit up and the whistle blew. Gavin slowed to watch the cars loop through a miniature winter carnival, weaving past a Ferris wheel and carousel that lit up as the train passed.
“That’s impressive,” he said.
“She switches the theme every December. One year it was a circus, last year a mountain town. People line up to see what she does next.”
“That’s amazing.” He lingered a moment longer, then followed me the rest of the way to the diner.
The restaurant’s windows were fogged from the heat inside. We finished our mochas and then I opened the door for him. As we stepped in, the bell overhead chimed and the smell of coffee and fried food wrapped around us. A couple of tables were filled with teenagers, but the back corner booth was open.
“Here.” I walked over and slid into the booth.
Gavin sat across from me, unwinding his scarf. Hazel spotted us and lifted a pot of coffee in question. I raised two fingers, and she walked over and poured some into the mugs that were already on the table.
“What do you usually order?” Gavin asked, grabbing the small bowl filled with tiny creamer cups.
“The burger or the special. Tonight, it’s meatloaf, and I’m going to get that.”
“Guess I’ll try it too.” He sprinkled sugar into his mug as I made my own coffee just the way I liked it.
Hazel returned, took our order and walked off, leaving us with steaming cups between us.
His eyes caught mine, and for a moment, it felt like the tree outside hadn’t been the only thing that lit up the night.
He cleared his throat after a beat.
“Do you come here often?”
“Most nights, yeah, because I don’t cook much at home.” The truth was, I hated to cook for one person. When I was married, I’d always had dinner waiting for Whitney but now that it was just me, I didn’t bother.
“Guess I picked the right tour guide.”
“You think this counts as a tour?”
“Feels like it.” He wrapped his hands around his mug, watching me instead of the room. His foot brushed mine under the table. I didn’t move away.
Our food came a few minutes later, the meatloaf covered in ketchup glaze, with mashed potatoes and green beans on the side. Hazel set them down, left a basket of rolls, and topped off our coffee before heading off again.
“Guess I’ll be up all night now.” Gavin added more cream to the mug. “That’s okay. I started writing again.”
