The tree was not on fire, but there was one in the hearth, and apparently, some of the wood was a little green. Amy was sitting cross-legged in front of it, staring into the flames, waving her hand in front of her face. She glanced up. “I hope you don’t mind. The rain started coming down and I felt chilled.”
“You built that fire?”
“I did.”
Harrison looked back at the fire.
“Did you check the flue?”
“I checked the flue. It’s open.”
He stared at the fire again.
“Maybe you could look slightly less shocked? You learn a few things when you have sons in scout programs. Would you like to join me?”
Well, he was surprised, and he couldn’t help it.
“Are you going to stand there looking flummoxed, or are you going to sit?”
“Wow,” he said. “I have not heard the wordflummoxedused in a sentence in a very long time. You’re sure you don’t mind if I invade your space?”
“It’s your space, too. We should declare the living room the neutral zone. And no, I don’t mind at all.” She said it so warmly that he felt a strange little flutter in his belly. He didn’t hesitate—he eased himself down onto the thick rug next to her, hoping he’d be able to get up when the time came, because his knee was stiffening up.
“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, I had some serious navel-gazing scheduled this evening.” He was glad she’d stuck around after dinner because he was enjoying this evening very much. Dinner had felt a little like he was dining with an old friend. Except he didn’t have any friends who looked like Amy. She’d let her hair down since the meal. It was a glossy chestnut color that fell around her shoulders. He had an insane urge to touch it.
“Oh no, I feel so bad now. I don’t want to keep you from something so important.”
“I’ll manage to squeeze it in,” he said, and stretched his legs out and settled back on his elbows. It was nice in here with the fire, the Christmas music on low, the lights of the tree blinking on and off. “So what do you suggest we do in front of this fire?” he asked.
“Drink brandy. And play a game that doesn’t require a board. Something like two truths and a lie.”
That sounded like a plan he could get behind. “Where’s the brandy?”
“I don’t think there is any.”
“Bummer. No brandy, no games…Shall I concoct an after-dinner drink? I overdid it at the liquor store today.”
“I would really like that,” she said.
Harrison leaped up—hiding just how much it hurt to leap rightnow—because he suddenly felt the need to be fit and agile in the presence of this woman. He returned a few minutes later with two cider drinks. He handed one to Amy.
“What’s this?” she asked, looking down at the contents.
“Apple cider and bourbon. I need a fancy name for it. And maybe some apples or cinnamon sticks.” He smiled self-consciously. “I wasn’t thinking with my entertaining hat on this afternoon. Hope you’re okay with bare bones.”
“Are you kidding? My whole life is bare bones.” She sipped. She immediately wrinkled her nose. “Got the bourbon, all right, with a hint of cider.”
He grinned as he eased himself down next to her. “Are you accusing me of a heavy pour?”
“Not accusing—it’s happening in my mouth right now.”
“I could add some sugar. Want me to go—”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I like it. This will either build some awesome character or put hair on my chest.”
“I’m going to hope for the former,” Harrison said. “So how do you play the game?”
