How the Hitman Stole Christmas - Sam Mariano Page 0,30

take long, less than a couple of hours and we should be there.”

I can’t believe I have to meet a second set of “boyfriend’s parents” in the same week. That’s stressful. I guess it doesn’t matter as much if Jasper’s family likes me, but with the poor experience of meeting Brady’s still so recent…

Brady.

I’ve tried not to think about the phone call I have to make this morning. I have no idea how to explain, and I feel terrible that Jasper made me wait until today.

“Can I call Brady now? I’d like to get this over with.”

Jasper checks his phone. “Not yet.” He looks back at me. “You’re probably hungry, huh? I know I am. There’s not much in the way of food on this exit, but I saw a little Norwegian restaurant and bakery not too far from the post office. We could stop there and get some breakfast.”

My stomach rumbles, reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve had anything to eat. “I guess that’s a good idea…”

Ignoring my reluctance and nodding confidently as if my agreement was whole-hearted, Jasper dumps out the coffee he just bought—claiming it tasted like shit anyway—tucks a few things away like he doesn’t trust the locks on the motel door, and then we head out to his car.

I’m actually excited when a few minutes later we pass through a historic district dusted with snow and pull up in front a place called Norske Nook Bakery & Restaurant. The building doesn’t look like the other storefronts. It looks more like a home in a picturesque European village than a business.

There’s street side parking, and we luck out. A car parked right out front is leaving as we drive up, so Jasper easily maneuvers into it.

“I’m terrible at parallel parking,” I tell him. “I’d rather park a mile away and walk.”

Jasper cracks a smile. “I’m pretty good at squeezing into tight spaces. I can park just about anywhere.”

“I’m envious of this skill,” I tell him as he kills the engine and unlocks the doors.

By the time I close my car door, Jasper is already by my side. I’m still looking around as we slowly approach the entrance to the restaurant. “I love doing things like this,” I tell him.

“Eating?” he questions.

I chuckle. “Well, yes. But that’s not what I meant.” I thank him absently as he opens the door for me and I step inside. “I meant traveling to places I’ve never been and finding local restaurants and shops to visit. It’s my favorite part of traveling. It always takes me forever to get anywhere because I want to make a bunch of stops along the way, but I can’t help it. Why pass up the chance to explore a place I may never be again?”

Jasper cracks a smile, gazing down at me with something like affection. “I’ll keep that in mind. Whenever we go anywhere, I’ll add an extra day onto our anticipated travel time so you can be a small town voyager.”

I cock an eyebrow since he says that like we’ll be traveling together often, but before I can say anything, a waitress approaches with an armful of menus to seat us.

The restaurant is very homey with a mix of tables and booths. It’s pretty busy, lots of friendly-looking locals scattered around the dining room.

We get a booth in the corner and Jasper naturally takes the seat against the wall. I was going to take that side so I could look around. I almost ask if he’ll switch with me, but I get the oddest sense he’s most comfortable there.

He doesn’t really look comfortable. He looks alert, his gaze sweeping the room as if on the lookout for trouble.

What kind of trouble could he possibly be anticipating in a small Wisconsin town he doesn’t even live in?

I think maybe he’s just always anticipating trouble.

Force of habit, he said when he accidentally deleted my message.

“Are you a creature of habit?”

Since my question came so out-of-the-blue, Jasper raises an eyebrow. “I guess you could say that. I’m comfortable with a routine. I like to know what to expect. I’m not a slave to it, though. I can roll with the punches anytime I need to. What about you?”

“I guess in some ways I am, but I haven’t really had a chance to be.” I finger the paper placemat just for something to do. “I’m like a potted plant that people keep giving away. Once I’m comfortable someplace, I’d like to make my roots there,