She looked miserable. “Please don’t take this to heart.”
“I can’t promise that. Just tell me.”
“He said that he didn’t feel so bad about Liberty not getting to meet her grandpa now that you and I are together.”
“I don’t follow.”
“If Dad had lived, we wouldn’t have needed to hire you. You wouldn’t be living here, which means this—” She gestured around the loft. “Wouldn’t have happened. Chances are we wouldn’t have happened.”
He was stunned.
“See why I didn’t want to tell you?”
“Did you mention we’re not exactly a done deal?” This was why he never should have kissed her. He’d fudging known it could screw up everybody and everything.
“No. I should have, but I?—”
“It’s okay. I wouldn’t have, either.”
“Listen, if it doesn’t work out for us, you’ll still be here. We’ll still be friends. It won’t be the end of the world.”
He gazed at her. She could say that all day long and maybe she believed it. He didn’t. What they’d shared was too intense. Casual friendship wasn’t in the cards.
But it could snow any minute and he had toys to deliver. He sucked in a breath. “Do you have Christmas music on your phone?”
“Doesn’t everybody?” Then she winced. “Sorry. Yes, I do.”
“Then please play it while you’re working on the Santa hats. I didn’t think of it before, but if you turn on Mannheim Steamroller when you make fudge with Claudie, it stands to reason you’d like to do it while you’re sewing those hats.”
“I will, at least while you’re gone.”
“And even when I get back.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’m serious.” Leaning over, he gave her a quick kiss. Then he picked up their empty plates and carried them to the kitchen counter.
“Leave those. I just saw a few flakes.”
“Okay. I’m outta here.” Grabbing his coat and hat, he put them on as he headed out the door.
By the time he was halfway down the steps, a jazzed up version of Joy to the World made it through his soundproofing. She must’ve turned that sucker up to rock concert volume.
The peppy rendition was unlike anything he’d heard before, which meant his visceral reaction was mild. Pausing on the steps, he let himself listen to the energetic sound that Mila loved so much.
He pictured her working on the hat project while she absorbed the dramatic music. Its vibrancy suited her. Could he blend his passion for her into that spirited sound? It was an idea.
The music faded as he reached the bottom of the steps. Fetching the plastic sack of toys, he slung them over his shoulder and set off, lengthening his stride. He could smell the snow.
Flakes drifted down, melting as they landed on his cheeks. He walked faster across the hard-packed yard, passing the mini-hacienda and the steep hill leading up to Rio’s A-frame.
Adam and Tracy’s log cabin sat on a rise, too. The path was a few yards beyond the one leading to Rio’s place. Multicolored lights of a Christmas tree shone through the front window and cedar smoke drifted from the chimney.
The clouds darkened the sky enough for everyone’s Christmas lights to come on, transforming the landscape. A memory surfaced — walking home from a friend’s house in December. He must’ve been around nine.
All the neighbors had lights up and a decorated tree in the front window. Every house but his. He’d considered going back to his buddy’s place and asking if they’d adopt him. But he couldn’t do that to Jordie, so he’d kept going.
He glanced over at the loft. No lights and no tree in the window, but Mila was in there making Santa hats and listening to cranked up Christmas music. Progress?
