Page 16 of Christmas in Mistletoe
Ruby shook her head. “I can’t. But I can give you my inspirations. Janis Joplin, Joni Mitchell, Beth Orton, Rufus Wainwright. Also, George Michael. He’s my mum’s favourite.”
“Your mum has taste.”
“Plus the Indigo Girls, of course.”
“Rite of passage,” Fran replied. “Or should I say,Rites of Passage.”
Ruby chuckled. “You know your Indigo Girls album titles.”
“Don’t sound so amazed.” She paused. “And by the way, I’m a fan of all of those artists you mentioned.”
A bristle of surprise ran through Ruby. Musical taste was important, and Fran had passed the first round. “Go on then, tell me yours.” Ruby sat back.
Fran frowned. “It’s a lot harder when it’s me.” She paused. “My taste is across the board. I love country old and new – Dolly Parton to Cam – as well as pop, rock, hip-hop and indie. Janelle Monae is a favourite. My dads are Tina Turner and Celine Dion fans, and the latter is one of the best concerts I ever saw. My parents took me to Vegas for my 30thand we saw Celine there. She was immense.”
“I have no doubt,” Ruby replied.
“I’m also a fan of the Wainwrights – Rufus and Martha.”
Ruby hadn’t expected that, either. “Sounds like you have impeccable music taste.”
Fran eyed Ruby. “It sounds like we both do.”
Ruby paused as she registered a slight shift between them. It was her turn for a question. Her mind was blank. “I can’t think of another question.”
“This was your idea.” Fran glanced Ruby’s way. “I’ve got another one. Signature dish.”
A creative question. “That’s easy. Chicken and mushroom pasta bake. I know it sounds easy, but trust me, it’s delicious. The secret? A ton of parmesan and cream.”
“Everything’s better with parmesan and cream.”
“Exactly.” Ruby’s stomach rumbled. “I could really eat a pasta bake right now. Warming. Tasty.” She shivered. Outside, the snow was still falling.
Fran turned the heat to full.
Ruby adjusted her vent, then put her hands up to it like it was a roaring fire.
Fran laughed, then got on her knees and twisted round. Seconds later, she dropped Ruby’s coat into her lap, before wriggling back into her seat, hugging herself. “You look cold, put it on.”
Ruby glanced her way, doing what she was told. Gratitude tiptoed up her scalp. “Thank you.” She buttoned up before she asked: “What about yours?”
“Mine?”
“Signature dish.”
“I don’t cook much. Perils of the job. I’m usually out at a gig or working late. Can I say Deliveroo?”
Ruby grinned. “You cannot. You must cook something.” She twisted to face Fran. “Come on, you’ve got a date with a hot chick. She’s coming around to yours. What do you cook her?”
“Panic on toast?”
Ruby smirked Fran’s way.
“Okay.” Fran paused. “Malaysian curry. My old flatmate taught me how to make that. It’s surprisingly easy and never not impressive.”
“There you go. Malaysian curry. If you fed me that, we’d definitely be off to a good start.” It was only when the words were out that Ruby realised what she’d said. “Not that I’m coming around to yours for a date.” Heat flooded her cheeks. “I mean, not that you’re not datable, it’s just…”
Now Fran twisted in her seat, a smile hanging from her lips. “You’re right, this game was a good idea. Watching you squirm while we’re sitting freezing on the side of the motorway has taken my mind off things.”
