He could see how someone might come to that conclusion. He glanced at the stove. “Okay, you’re close, but it’s not as weird as you’re making it out to be. I’ll tell you if you want to know, although I wouldn’t get my hopes up for anything very interesting. Or for any red flags. But first, let me ask, how do you feel about steak?”
“I feel about steak like I feel about all food—I love it and hope it is delicious. Why do you ask?”
“I thought I’d throw a couple on this cool grill.”
Amy folded her arms. “We said no food sharing.”
“Technically, you said that. But I don’t mind sharing.”
“Then I guess that makes you the nice one in this story. But don’t get any ideas—I’m keeping a firm grip on my Lean Cuisines.”
“Trust me, your Lean Cuisines are in no danger of anything but congealing. So, yes to steak?”
She smiled, and he was once again struck with how pretty she was. “I think? Is it weird? Two strangers who are forced to share a holiday house now sharing meals?”
“This is all definitely very weird. But I say we roll with it. I like company when I have a good meal, even if she’s a stranger. Seems less pathetic than eating alone, which I think you will appreciate, since you seem to be concerned about me.”
“Good point,” she said. “But I’m not cleaning up.”
“Nope. It’s a full-service steak offer. I am offering to cook and to clean.”
“Now, that’s just a Christmas miracle.”
“So you’re in for a steak, weirdness and all?”
Her smile turned to a grin. “I’msoin. This is the best offer I’ve had in years. Decades, maybe. I think I might really grow to like weird. Thank you, Harrison Harry.”
And then, as if to punctuate their burgeoning friendship, the rafters began to shake with a blast of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”
7
Amy had become a pro at turning down the random blasts of music, so they didn’t disconnect it. It was amazing that once the volume was controlled, the Christmas music wafted pleasantly around them, making this enormous house feel cozy. Lights twinkled throughout and across the lake, and the scent of steak filled the kitchen.Steak.What a treat. This was the sort of evening Amy always longed for and rarely was afforded. An evening with an actual adult dining companion (Kevin didn’t count), food that was something other than pizza or Hot Pockets, and ambiance.Ambiance!She never had ambiance. She wanted ambiance, every day. She wanted to live like this, like a woman with purpose and a reason to put on nice clothes and makeup.
Lord, what had happened to her in the last fifty years? How had she gone from bohemian artist to a woman who ate Hot Pockets while she surfed TikTok and wore the same T-shirt all week?
Amy found two aprons in a drawer. One of them was painted as a Christmas tree, so that at the top, the head of the person wearing it took the place of the star of Bethlehem. The other apron sported the headless torso of Santa. “Flip a coin?” Amy asked.
Harrison reached for Santa. “This feels right.”
As he put on the Santa body, she took the tree and donned it.
“What are you doing?” Harrison asked. “You were very clear that you would not lift a finger.”
“And I meant it,” she said as she laced the ties in front of her. “But this is different than my real life. You don’t expect me to help. Therefore, I am happy to help. If that makes sense.”
“Not a lick. I appreciate your offer, but I don’t need you,” he assured her. “I’ve done this before.”
“Ah, I get it.”
He began to prepare the steaks. “Get what?”
“You’re the type of guy to invite a girl over for a fancy dinner.”
“No,” he said patiently. “I’m the type of guy who likes to eat.”
She didn’t know if she believed that, but nevertheless, Amy liked watching him. Until her phone pinged. Three times, indicating multiple texts. She picked it up and frowned down at the screen.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
