A California Christmas (Silver Springs #7) - Brenda Novak Page 0,35
it dressed like that. The box is dusty.”
“I can kick off my shoes and throw on a robe,” she suggested.
“Are you sure? I could ask one of my brothers to stop by instead...”
“No need. I’m here. And I’m stronger than I look.” She flexed as she grinned at him. “At least I’m not crying today,” she added as if she knew he’d be relieved about that.
He chuckled because he was relieved and jerked his head toward the stairs. “It’s in the garage.”
“Great. I’ll be right there.”
He went down ahead of her, and she put on a robe and came to join him.
He held the door going into the garage for her to come through. Then he pointed at the giant box that contained his mother’s fourteen-foot artificial Christmas tree, which already had the lights on it. “It’s that beast right there.”
Her eyes went wide. “Wow. That’s bigger than I expected.”
“That’s what I thought when I first saw it.” He rested his hands on his hips. “You still game to give it a try?”
“Of course. Why not?”
She got on one end, he on the other, and they managed to lift it. From there, he did his best to bear most of the weight as she helped carry it inside. “You okay?” he asked as they struggled to squeeze it through the door.
“Fine. You?”
“I’m happy I’m not trying to do this on my own,” he admitted.
They both blew out a sigh and dusted off their hands once they’d maneuvered the tree into the living room and put it by the window where it could be set up. “Thanks,” he said. “Now...what would you like to eat?”
“How extensive are your cooking skills?” she teased.
“I live in my van half the year, so keep that in mind.”
“Not a wide repertoire, huh?”
“I typically eat greens and beans. As long as I get enough protein and vitamins, I don’t care too much about the taste. I’m definitely no chef.”
“An omelet?” she queried.
“That I can do.”
She went up to remove her robe while he returned to the kitchen.
“Any word from Tommy?” he asked when she was back and pouring a cup of coffee from the pot he’d put on as soon as he got up.
“Nothing yet,” she said. “I checked as soon as I rolled out of bed. I’d really like to hear what he has to say. Maybe he was aware of Ethan’s hidden camera. It’s possible I’m not the first woman Ethan ever recorded. If Ethan made a joke about filming his sexual exploits, or Tommy saw him purchase the equipment or found the packing material in the trash, it could make a big difference in my case.”
“It’d be awesome if he ran across the camera months ago.”
“Wouldn’t it?” She added a dash of cream to her coffee. “My attorney would be so excited. He called me this morning. He plans to file the paperwork tomorrow.”
“So only one more day before Ethan and the station learn that you’re coming after them?”
“Yup.” She took a careful sip. “And I’m a little scared. I haven’t blocked Ethan’s number. Since I didn’t get anything useful out of him last night, I’m hoping being served with a lawsuit will set him off, make him say something he wouldn’t have said otherwise.”
The ding of the microwave signaled that the bacon was done. As Dallas got it out, he could easily imagine how angry Ethan might get. “Are you sure you should even answer if he does call?”
“I have to. He won’t say anything on voice mail. He knows I could play that for someone else, but he doesn’t know I’m recording our conversations. I’ll have a much better chance of having him go ballistic and screw up if I answer.”
“True. Last night, I got the impression he’s really torn. He wants you back, so he’s tempted to play nice, but he’s angry that you don’t want him, which makes him act badly instead. I just... I hate to think of what he might say to you.”
“That’s exactly how it is. When we first broke up, he alternated between bringing me gifts, telling me he loved me and sending flowers to making me think he might explode. And as things progressed, and he realized I really wasn’t coming back, he got nastier and nastier.”
Finished cooking her omelet, Dallas brought it to the table. “How nasty did he get?”
“Called me every name in the book, said I’d never amount to anything without him, that I’d come crawling back on my knees, that