A Hippogriff for Christmas - Zoe Chant Page 0,16
be happy?
If she knew that things couldn’t last, then she couldn’t be disappointed when he left. She could prepare herself for it, and keep reminding herself that this was just a three-day thing. No need to get attached at all.
That’ll work, she thought, trying not to notice how her heart skipped a beat when their eyes met again.
“I do,” she said. “It’s not far from here – just out of town.”
“Sounds good.” Beau’s eyes twinkled as he nodded. “But – well, not to be ungentlemanly, but would you prefer to drive?”
Annie realized what he meant right away: for obvious reasons, she might not have been thrilled with the idea of jumping straight into a strange man’s car.
“That might be easier, since I know the way,” she said. “It’s only about fifteen minutes from here, though.”
“Easily done, then. Lead the way.”
It hadn’t occurred to Annie that her car wasn’t exactly the flashiest-looking thing around. It was an old, probably fourth-hand Corolla, with some obvious rust patches around the wheel wells.
It was probably on the verge of falling apart altogether, but Annie had only ever had the money to keep it patched up enough to keep running, and that was it.
Still, Beau didn’t seem to bat an eyelid as she opened the car door for him, folding his long, broad body into the cramped confines of the passenger seat.
“Sorry, this might take a while,” Annie said as she turned the key in the ignition. But either Beau had worked his heart-melting magic on her car as well, or this was her lucky day – or both – and the engine stuttered only once or twice before the car jumped to life with only the mildest of complaints.
“Phew. That was lucky,” Annie said, as she pulled out onto the road. “Johnstone’s Christmas Tree Farm, here we come.”
Beau laughed softly. “You really don’t have one?”
“Nope.” Annie shook her head. “To be honest, I don’t really get the point. I mean, maybe a plastic one, since you can use that over and over again. But a real one just seems like way too big of a hassle. It’s there for a couple of weeks, it sheds needles all over your carpet, and then it’s dead.”
“You could have a point there,” Beau said, nodding. “I definitely get it about not wanting to vacuum all the needles up. That is kind of a hassle.”
Annie glanced at him as she pulled up to a red light. “So you’re open to debate about the topic of Christmas?”
“Sure.” Beau flashed a grin at her. “I guess to me, the point of a real Christmas tree is like Christmas itself. It takes a lot of work, and it’s kind of a hassle. But it’s a once-a-year thing, and the fact it’s so temporary is part of what makes it so special. You wouldn’t go to so much trouble for almost anything else. But over those couple of weeks when you sit back at the end of the day and look at the tree you decorated and smell the pine needles and think about how this is the only time of year you can do these things – it’s kind of corny, I guess, but to me, it’s something special. Especially if you have someone to share it with.”
Annie swallowed as she pulled out into the intersection, careful to keep her eyes on the road. Nonetheless, she could still feel Beau’s presence next to her, seeming way too warm and way too close in the confined space of her tiny car.
“I guess,” she said eventually, and to be honest, the way Beau described Christmas, it did sound kind of special. It was just that she’d always felt locked out of the specialness – she’d always been on the outside looking in. “When you talk about it like that… it’s really tempting. But it’s always felt to me like that kind of stuff is for other people. I’ve never really had anyone to share it with.”
Again, she felt that strange tug in her chest that compelled her to be honest. It was strange, how comfortable she felt saying these things to Beau, who she’d only just met. Usually she kept her past close to her chest.
“I suppose people often do say Christmas is about being close to your loved ones,” Beau agreed. “But I guess that isn’t always possible. But you can always treat it like a special time just for yourself – a time to give yourself a bit of extra time