Chapter Twelve
TEAGAN
Teagan’s stomach tightened as Noah took the exit ramp toward bright lights.
The truck stop was like an oasis in the middle of a black desert, bustling and welcoming.
Flashy signs advertised gas, food, bathrooms, and even a budget motel offering soft beds and hot showers for road-weary travelers.
Teagan had used similar places over the years.
They were cheap, quick, accepted cash, and didn’t ask a lot of questions.
The place was surprisingly busy, given the late hour. Big rigs dominated the parking lot, but the car area held its share of vehicles as well.
“Must be a good place if this many truckers stop here,” Noah commented as he scanned the packed lot.
“Or the only place for a hundred miles,” Teagan muttered.
She scanned the periphery as they made their way to the chrome-and-neon diner. Beyond the halogen lot lights, dark, leafless trees reached toward a moonless sky, sentinels in a landscape worthy of the winter solstice. Slipping away would be easy.
Her stomach cramped again.
In a gentlemanly move, Noah held the door open for a couple exiting the diner, returned their cheerful, “Happy holidays,” then swept his hand in front of him. “Ladies first.”
Teagan snorted. She was no lady. But it was nice that he was treating her like one.
Scanning the interior, Teagan cataloged the space. The eatery was dated but clean, with chrome-edged, laminated-top booths and bench seats in red vinyl. Green plastic garland and twinkle lights gave the space a holiday vibe, as did the classic Christmas carols playing over the speakers.
Her gaze swept the patrons next. Truckers, with their flannel shirts, down vests, and caps. Bleary-eyed drivers with shadowed jaws and messy I’ve been in the car for hours hair. College students with tired but happy faces, wearing oversized hoodies sporting state university logos.
Nothing that set off her internal alarms.
Noah’s fingers touched her arm, guiding her toward the booth the server had indicated. It was a light touch, one meant to subtly suggest direction, yet it zapped through her just the same.
The contact ended as soon as they reached the table, its absence more noticeable than the touch itself. Teagan gave herself a mental shake. Clearly, she was worse off than she’d thought if she was waxing poetic about such an innocuous touch.
“How are you folks this evening?” the woman asked as she reset the table with fresh placemats and silverware.
“Good, thanks,” Noah replied.
“Coffee?”
“Please.”
The server handed them each a menu, ran down the specials, and then left to grab a fresh carafe.
Teagan spared a cursory glance, then set the laminated sheet face down.
“You’re not hungry?” Noah asked.
“No.”
He frowned. “How can that be? You barely ate anything for dinner.”
“I ate,” she countered. Granted, not a lot, but as much as she could. Pain and anxiety were effective appetite suppressants.
“How’s your pain level?”
“Manageable.”
His frown deepened, as if he could sense the lie.
“I can give you something stronger.”
The over-the-counter meds were barely scratching the surface, but she dared not take anything stronger. She needed to stay awake and alert.
She shook her head. “I’m good.”
The server returned with coffee and ice water. Noah ordered two slices of pie.
“I told you, I’m not hungry,” she grumbled.
“Who says one’s for you?”
She couldn’t help it. Her lips quirked. Something that seemed to happen frequently in Noah’s presence.
The waitress brought two plates, each with a slice of warm apple pie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and placed one in front of each of them.
Noah wasted no time digging into his. With his other hand, he discreetly nudged Teagan’s plate closer to her until it threatened to fall off the table and into her lap.
“Seriously?”
His answer was a half smile that sent butterflies fluttering behind her rib cage. It was a good thing he didn’t do it often.
Partly to appease him and partly because the pie smelled delicious, she took her spoon and carved out a small bite. Noah’s head remained fixed on his plate, but his triumphant smile was easily visible.
The first bite went down easy. The second and third, even more so. Before she knew it, she was scraping the last bits of flaky crust and melted ice cream onto her spoon. Wisely, Noah didn’t comment.
“So,” he said once the waitress cleared their plates away.
“So,” she echoed.
“What’s your plan?”
She blinked. “My plan?”
“Yeah, your plan. Unless you’re thinking of just sticking with the transient thing.”
“Works for Jack Reacher.”
He smiled at that. “Seriously though, what are you doing for the holidays?”
Possibly signing my own death warrant. Going public with the truth was going to be ugly and messy. The real challenge was going to be getting anyone to believe her. But she had to try.
Aloud, she said, “Holidays aren’t a big thing for me.”
“Hmm,” Noah hummed.
Expecting to find pity or sympathy in his eyes, she reluctantly lifted her gaze to his—and found neither. He looked contemplative, like he was working through something in his head.
“My folks always make a big deal out of Christmas,” he said finally, a nostalgic smile curving his lips.
“My dad goes all out on lights. I swear you can see the house from across the valley, it’s so bright.
I can’t even tell you how many cookies my mom makes, but it’s a lot.
We each have our favorites, and she likes everyone to be happy. ”
“Sounds nice.”
“It is.” He paused. “I’m guessing your experience is different.”
Different didn’t even begin to cover it. There were no lights at her house. No festive decorations. No baking, no gifts, no carols or a tree. Most of her Christmases had been spent hiding from her alcoholic, abusive stepfather.
What she said was both brilliant and eloquent. “Yeah. A little.”
He cleared his throat. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you spend the holidays with me this year?”
Teagan choked on the water she’d been in the process of swallowing. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Spend the holidays with me.”
Yep, she’d heard him right the first time, and it didn’t make any more sense the second time around.
“Why?”
Noah’s long arm reached across the table with a napkin, wiping up the splatter. “Why not?”
She scowled at him. “I neither need nor want your pity.”
He reared back, as if slapped. “Pity has nothing to do with it.”
“No?”
“No,” he said emphatically. “I was thinking that, since you don’t seem to be on a strict timetable, you could use the extra time to recover before you go do whatever it is you’re going to do.”
Her mouth opened to tell him she didn’t need more time, but the words died before they passed her lips. She was tired and sore, and despite her earlier convictions, slipping away didn’t seem like the smartest thing to do. She could do it, but should she?
The idea of experiencing a real Christmas was tempting.
She shook her head, dispelling images she had no business conjuring. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Because…” he prompted.
“It’s a family thing.”
“That’s the beauty of it. Big family, remember?
There will be so many people around, you’ll blend right in.
Near-total anonymity. That’s what you’re shooting for, right?
” He paused and sipped his coffee. “Did I mention, I have my own cabin, apart from the main house? It’s not as big as the one at Hopewell, but it’s more than adequate. You’ll be safe there.”
It sounded too good to be true. “What’s the catch?”
Noah hesitated. Long, skilled fingers tapped against his mug. “No catch. Not really. But in the interest of full disclosure, having you around will benefit me as well.”
“How so?”
He exhaled. “I haven’t been home much since I got out of the service. If you’re there, I’ll have a reasonable excuse to spend less time at the house, as well as minimize the probability of an intervention.” At her questioning look, he shrugged.
“My family worries about me.”
“Is there a reason they should be worried?”
“No.” His reply was immediate and firm, even as he averted his eyes.
She wasn’t fooled. On the outside, Noah said and did all the right things, but tortured souls tended to recognize each other. This quiet, capable, kind man had demons too.
Silence stretched for long moments until he blew out a breath and said, “You know what? I’m sorry. Forget I—”
“Okay.”
His eyes snapped up to hers, then narrowed. “Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll spend the holidays with you. You’ve been there for me. The least I can do is be there for you, though I’m not sure how my presence is going to help.”
The relief on his face was palpable, and his smile? It was genuine and did funny things to her insides. “It will. Trust me.”
Amazingly, she did.