“Yeah, I guess that’s what Liam and all the rest of mankind think, too.”
“Hey wait, don’t lump me into Liam’s camp.”
“I can’t believe I told you all of this.” Millie flushed and looked out the window. “I don’t even know your name.”
He reached out and took her hand as if to shake it, but he didn’t. Instead, he held it in his own. “I’m Carson Trent, but tonight, if you come to the inn, you can call me Santa.”
When she didn’t respond, he gently squeezed her hand. “This is where you tell me your name,” he said.
“I’m Millie Cruise.”But most of the world knows me as Camille Harper, AKA the sappy writer.
They parted at the train station. Millie had a ridiculous desire to give Carson a hug, even though she had just met him. Her sensible voice told her to shoulder her bag, casually wave, and get her rental car, but her feet shuffled and she stuttered over saying goodbye.
“Are you sure you want to rent a car?” Carson asked. “I’m going there anyway, and it’s a three-hour drive.”
“That’s really nice of you, but how would I get back?”
“You ride back with me on Sunday night.”
“Mmm, no.” For once, she agreed with her sensible voice.
“Do you know how to get to Chickory?” Carson asked.
“My phone does.”
“Of course.” He looked deflated. Taking her hand, he said, “If I’m lucky, I’ll see you again.”
She left her hand in his. “Do you believe in luck?”
Pain flashed in his eyes. “Not really. Do you?”
“I want to…but it often lets me down.”
“Then let me give you my card, just in case you…” His voice trailed away, but after he cleared his throat he added, “In case you need anything or get lost.”
“Thanks.” She scanned the card. It was heavy, cream-colored with bold navy print.Carson Trent, Principal, Trent and Tavenor Investors, Your Business Partners.She pocketed the card, thought about giving him hers, but quickly changed her mind.
Her sensible voice told her she couldn’t hide her identity from this man forever, but Millie was getting pretty tired of her sensible voice.
Why not tell him who you are?A less sensible voice demanded to know.After all, you both live in New York. Why not meet? Why not date?
Millie shut down all the voices in her head because she now realized they had all stopped being sensible the moment she had first seen Carson.
“Nice meeting you,” she said, tightening the grip on her bag and turning away.
She didn’t look back.
CARSON
Carson watched Millie disappear through the crowded train station. He didn’t even know her, and yet he wanted to follow her. Taking his keys from his pocket, he jingled them. The happy noise reminded him he’d see her soon at his grandmother’s inn, the only bright spot on the weekend looming before him.
He winced, thinking of how the rest of his weekend would go. He foresaw heaping helpings of guilt, maybe even a few tears, and a lot of stubbornness with balking thrown in.
He found his car in the garage, pressed the button, and slid inside. Turning over the ignition, he blew on his hands to warm them. The steering wheel felt like ice, and the heater shot a frosty blast to his face. The car would take a few minutes to warm, but Carson knew it might take a lifetime for his women-folk to wise up.
His phone rang. Carson pulled it from his pocket and stared at it. His mom had a spooky way of showing up every time he thought of her.
“Hey, Ma,” he said.
