Hope. I’m sorry. It’s Christmas. You could have come over…”
He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. Suggesting she should have joined them was completely wrong, and yet completely right.
She saved him, patting his cheek almost playfully as she passed him en route to the fridge.
“You can stop being embarrassed by my lack of family, okay? Mom left years ago, Dad is gone. I have no idea where my sister is…but it’s okay. I’m living here because I like Rocky. And the shop is doing well.” She paused then wrinkled her nose. “Well enough, at least.”
He nodded in sympathy. “First years are the hardest, I hear.”
The microwave was warming her food before she turned back to face him. “So really, it’s okay. Now, you want another drink? Or do you want to get back to the family? It’s been nice to have your company, but I don’t think you want to watch me eat.”
Matt glanced at the table, covered with piles of organized material. “You eating in the living room?”
“Planned on it, and watching The Sound of Music . Tradition, you know.”
The microwave pinged, but he caught her wrist before she could open it. “Hope, why did you let me help you with the quilt without arguing with me?”
She leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her as she looked him up and down. A slow smile snuck out and she laughed. “Because you were honestly interested. And I’m never going to say no if you really want to do something. I don’t like charity, Matt, but I have no problem with a friend giving me a hand because they want to.”
Something in her logic hit him hard enough his knees nearly buckled. His heart pounded as if he’d just run a gold-medal sprint, and the satisfaction filling him reminded him of the sheer excitement of Christmas morning when he was young.
Delight, unexpected but fresh and new in how it arrived.
Heading back to the house was impossible. Not because there was anything there he wanted to avoid, but because there was something here he didn’t want to leave.
Even if he wasn’t sure what it was, other than a…friend.
He cleared his throat. “Then, if I ask if I can stay and watch the movie with you, because I’d really like to just hang out with you for a while longer, what would you say?”
Hope didn’t hesitate. She pointed to the fridge. “If that’s what you’d like to do, and why you’d like to do it, then I’d say, ‘Could you pour me a glass of iced tea and bring it with you when you come to the living room?’ Because my hands are full.”
Hope kept her eyes glued to the television, snuggled into the couch a little deeper and fought an epic battle. Hypocrisy didn’t feel good, no matter who delivered it. She’d promised herself Matt was off the serving shelf. But the sensation stealing over her as she sat next to him and watched singing goatherds for what had to be the millionth time in her life—well, she liked Christopher Plummer plenty, but it wasn’t the sight of him on the screen making her heart race.
And she was not going to muck this up. Hurting Matt? God, she’d cut off her own arm before letting that happen. He obviously wanted to spend time with her. Wasn’t his fault he couldn’t possibly want it to be for the same reason that teased her on a daily basis.
Not to mention during the nights.
Matt stretched and yawned, his left arm slipping farther into the space she’d mentally tagged “hers”. The safe-zone line had been crossed—that was her cue to bounce up and go for more drinks. Or popcorn, or…or something.
“Okay if I pause it?” Matt waved the remote control.
She grinned as she hit her feet. “No problem.”
He smiled back suspiciously. “What’s that look for?”
“I just want to point out you took all of fifteen minutes to assume ownership of that thing.”
“I’m a guy, it’s genetically built into us to cling to the controls.”
Hope laughed as she grabbed their empty glasses. “I’ve heard that.
He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. Suggesting she should have joined them was completely wrong, and yet completely right.
She saved him, patting his cheek almost playfully as she passed him en route to the fridge.
“You can stop being embarrassed by my lack of family, okay? Mom left years ago, Dad is gone. I have no idea where my sister is…but it’s okay. I’m living here because I like Rocky. And the shop is doing well.” She paused then wrinkled her nose. “Well enough, at least.”
He nodded in sympathy. “First years are the hardest, I hear.”
The microwave was warming her food before she turned back to face him. “So really, it’s okay. Now, you want another drink? Or do you want to get back to the family? It’s been nice to have your company, but I don’t think you want to watch me eat.”
Matt glanced at the table, covered with piles of organized material. “You eating in the living room?”
“Planned on it, and watching The Sound of Music . Tradition, you know.”
The microwave pinged, but he caught her wrist before she could open it. “Hope, why did you let me help you with the quilt without arguing with me?”
She leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her as she looked him up and down. A slow smile snuck out and she laughed. “Because you were honestly interested. And I’m never going to say no if you really want to do something. I don’t like charity, Matt, but I have no problem with a friend giving me a hand because they want to.”
Something in her logic hit him hard enough his knees nearly buckled. His heart pounded as if he’d just run a gold-medal sprint, and the satisfaction filling him reminded him of the sheer excitement of Christmas morning when he was young.
Delight, unexpected but fresh and new in how it arrived.
Heading back to the house was impossible. Not because there was anything there he wanted to avoid, but because there was something here he didn’t want to leave.
Even if he wasn’t sure what it was, other than a…friend.
He cleared his throat. “Then, if I ask if I can stay and watch the movie with you, because I’d really like to just hang out with you for a while longer, what would you say?”
Hope didn’t hesitate. She pointed to the fridge. “If that’s what you’d like to do, and why you’d like to do it, then I’d say, ‘Could you pour me a glass of iced tea and bring it with you when you come to the living room?’ Because my hands are full.”
Hope kept her eyes glued to the television, snuggled into the couch a little deeper and fought an epic battle. Hypocrisy didn’t feel good, no matter who delivered it. She’d promised herself Matt was off the serving shelf. But the sensation stealing over her as she sat next to him and watched singing goatherds for what had to be the millionth time in her life—well, she liked Christopher Plummer plenty, but it wasn’t the sight of him on the screen making her heart race.
And she was not going to muck this up. Hurting Matt? God, she’d cut off her own arm before letting that happen. He obviously wanted to spend time with her. Wasn’t his fault he couldn’t possibly want it to be for the same reason that teased her on a daily basis.
Not to mention during the nights.
Matt stretched and yawned, his left arm slipping farther into the space she’d mentally tagged “hers”. The safe-zone line had been crossed—that was her cue to bounce up and go for more drinks. Or popcorn, or…or something.
“Okay if I pause it?” Matt waved the remote control.
She grinned as she hit her feet. “No problem.”
He smiled back suspiciously. “What’s that look for?”
“I just want to point out you took all of fifteen minutes to assume ownership of that thing.”
“I’m a guy, it’s genetically built into us to cling to the controls.”
Hope laughed as she grabbed their empty glasses. “I’ve heard that.
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