Christmas at Fireside Cabins - Jenny Hale Page 0,40
go with me later to have a visit?”
“No,” he said quickly.
“Why not?” Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She couldn’t get him to budge on anything. Then suddenly, she remembered that Eleanor had called him “a nightmare.” She leaned in toward him on her forearms. “You’ve met Eleanor, yes?”
He focused his attention on his plate.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you might not have been very nice to her when you met, am I right?”
He chewed slowly, but she thought she could see the guilt in his face.
“You treated her like you treated us when we came in, didn’t you?”
“I had a lot going on, all right?” he snapped. “I’m not proud of it.”
She smiled warmly at him. “And now you’re fixing her broken plumbing for free, and that’s really kind of you.”
He took a long gulp of wine from his glass, clearly reflecting on something.
“She’s a lovely woman, and I’m sure she’d welcome you with open arms,” Lila pressed. “And it would give you a chance to apologize for not being at your best when she came in.”
“Why do you care what she thinks of me?” he asked seriously.
She shrugged, unsure herself. “Maybe it’s because I feel like we all have something to give to ourselves and others. You just need a little push.”
“Why, though? Why do you feel that way? I really just want you to leave me alone and go back to wherever you came from.”
His words stung Lila, but she wouldn’t be deterred that easily.
He grabbed his napkin from his lap and set it on the table, standing up. “You’re so frustrating,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.
She put her fork on her plate and got up from her chair. “Well, I don’t have to be frustrating,” she said, standing behind him. “Come with me to Eleanor’s.”
Carefully, she threaded her fingers between his, and an electric current ran through her when he caressed the palm of her hand with his thumb, confusing her and making her struggle to keep focus. He turned around and faced her, still holding her hand. She thought she saw that vulnerability flash in his eyes and then he closed up again.
“You’re so frustrating,” he said again, “because I like… how thoughtful you are and how you see the best in me, even when I try not to allow it.” He shook his head. “I don’t want anyone in my life right now, but… I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“I want to know you, but I don’t even know your last name,” she said with a little laugh. “Mine’s Evans. Lila Evans. What’s yours?”
He let go of her hand. “I, uh… I don’t tell anyone who I am.”
“You won’t tell me your last name?” she said, wrinkling her nose in utter confusion. Why wouldn’t he tell her that? Then something Piper had mentioned when they’d first gotten there came back to her; she recalled her friend saying the owner was mysterious and signed all the transactions for the coffee shop as Brian Brown. “Who’s Brian Brown?” she asked.
“What?” he asked.
“Is your name Theo Brown?” she asked, confused.
“No…” He got his dish and pushed the leftovers into the trashcan with his fork, setting his plate in the sink.
“Are you in the witness protection program or something?” she asked playfully. But then she sobered. “Wait, are you?”
“No,” he said, clearly amused despite the fact he’d rather not be. “I don’t tell just anyone my last name. Look, are we going to see Eleanor Finely or not?” He grabbed her coat and handed it to her.
“That’s because your last name is Wolfersnauzerrobertsutzen,” she teased. “And you don’t know how to spell it. I can just call you Theo W.”
He rolled his eyes, slipping on his own coat.
She opened the door. “Maybe it rhymes and you don’t like the way it sounds. Theo Brio? It actually has a nice ring to it…”
He stepped out the door and closed it behind them.
“Maybe it’s Theo DiCaprio, and it’s so close to Leo that everyone gets you confused with the famous actor.”
“Will you stop?” he asked on their way down the stairs. A grin broke through and he shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m ridiculous? I’m not the one who won’t tell his date his last name.”
“We’re not on a date,” he said, exasperated.
“Then why did you stay for dinner?”
“You’re obsessive,” he said, trying to hide his laugh.
“I’m optimistic. There’s a difference.”
“You’re crazy,” he teased.
“Maybe, but neither you nor your coffee shop have a