Page 32 of Seeds of Christmas
“Now,” he says seriously, “let’s discuss the important decisions. What are we ordering? And please say cheese fries. I’ve been thinking about cheese fries for the last hour.”
“You’ve been thinking about cheese fries?”
“Obsessively. They’ve taken over my entire mental landscape. I can’t think about anything else.”
“That’s concerning.”
“It’s dedication.” He sits on the edge of the bed. “So? Cheese fries?”
“I was thinking a burger?—”
“Perfect. Two burgers. What else?”
“That’s probably enough?—”
“Rhi. Rhiannon. Look at me.” He waits until I meet his eyes, and there’s this mock-serious expression on his face that makes me want to laugh. “We hiked for four hours today. Uphill. In the snow. While carrying expensive equipment and the weight of Professor Bam’s expectations. We earned this meal.”
“The weight of her expectations is pretty heavy,” I admit.
“Exactly. So we’re getting burgers, fries, onion rings, and”—he scans the menu dramatically—“oh damn, they have mozzarella sticks. We’re definitely getting those.”
“That’s a lot of fried food.”
“It’s a celebration of fried food. There’s a difference.”
“What are we celebrating?”
“Not dying of hypothermia?” He grins. “Successfully collecting data? New friendship?”
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. “Alright, you order.”
He orders with the kind of easy charm that makes the person on the other end laugh. I can hear them through the phone. He does that to people—makes them want to please him, want to be in on the joke.
“And two slices of pie,” he’s saying. “What kind? Surprise us. We’re feeling adventurous... Yeah, room 16. Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”
He hangs up and sprawls across the bed, propped up on pillows like he’s posing for a magazine shoot he doesn’t know he’s in.
“Pie?”
“What? The sign downstairs said it’s world famous, Rhi. World famous. We can’t not get pie!”
I laugh easily.
“I do like pie.”
8
RHIANNON
He grins back at me. “Sooo, food will be here in twenty minutes. In the meantime”—he pats the space next to him on the bed, then seems to think better of it—“actually, you take the comfortable chair. I’ve already claimed the bed.”
As I take the chair, he continues, “So, confession time. I need to know something important.”
“O-kaay?”
“Are you one of those people who’s going to judge me for putting ketchup on my fries and my burger? Because I need to know now if this partnership is going to work.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. “That’s your important question?”
