Chapter 29
Lauren could not believe she’d been suckered into this errand. Tammy had sent the address last night, and only then did Lauren
realize the town was way up north and practically in Vermont—three hours away. Darn that Tammy!
She got into the driver’s seat of the old GMC and fastened her seat belt while Jonah slid silently into the passenger side
and buckled in. They’d barely said hello, which was just fine by her. The less said, the better, to her way of thinking. It
would be a long three hours. Six, really, when you counted the return trip. She sighed.
“Sure you don’t want to take my truck?”
“Yep.” She turned the key and the vehicle rumbled to life. Sure, Jonah’s truck was newer and nicer. But she’d had enough of
sitting in the passenger seat. Moments later she pulled from the resort lot and onto the main road, his presence filling the
vehicle like noxious fumes.
That probably wasn’t fair—and not quite accurate. But clinging to her righteous indignation felt good. Safe. Especially when
his presence seemed to fill the cab, his masculine scent tickling her nose.
Minutes later they exited town and the quiet swelled until she feared the whole truck would combust from the vacuum. She turned on the radio and the sounds of Christmas music filled the air. She wasn’t a big fan of the holiday—it had largely disappointed. As a child she’d believed in Santa for about two seconds. Her first Christmas with a foster family quickly dispelled any belief in a benevolent stranger who bestowed gifts on every child.
She found another station—Taylor Swift crooned “Midnight Rain.” Anything was better than Christmas music. Lauren’s feelings
about that particular holiday were eclipsed only by her disillusionment about birthdays.
Case in point.
Because, yes, today was her birthday and she was trapped in a rattly, old truck with the man who threatened her peace of mind.
Typical.
“Are we gonna talk about this?”
He speaks. She supposed a nice, quiet drive was too much to hope for. “About what?”
“Lauren. You can’t stay mad at me forever.”
“Are you sure?”
His sigh rose over the chorus’s crescendo. “Well, you can’t be mad at me on your birthday.”
He remembered. A small bubble of joy swelled inside. She took a mental pin and popped it, then aimed a scowl his way. “This isn’t exactly
the way I wanted to spend it.”
“Why not? You don’t even celebrate your birthday, so what does it matter?”
She kept forgetting he knew so much about her. She squirmed in her seat, then jabbed a button, turning off the heat. “Then
I guess it doesn’t matter that I’m mad at you today after all.”
“You’re not really angry anyway, are you? You’re just scared.”
She snorted, though his words hit a little too close to the mark.
“You like having a nice little wedge between us, don’t you? It’s a lot less scary than a friendship that might morph into
more.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You gave up that job for me. For us .”
“Which you lied to me about.”
“Only by omission. And I’ve already apologized for that—numerous times.”
“Whatever. The only way I would’ve given up that job is if you’d manipulated me into it.”
He turned wide eyes on her. “Is that what you think happened?”
His surprise made her waver. But no. She must’ve been backed into a corner to have given up that job. “It’s what I know,”
she said with far more certainty than she felt.
He gave a wry laugh. “You go on kidding yourself. Maybe one of these days you’ll get up the courage to ask me how it all went
down.”
“You’re really ticking me off.”
“Thought you were already mad. And just so you know, we had the kind of love people die for, Lauren. We were happy. You lit
up like the sun when I kissed you and squirmed with want when I touched you. It was pure magic.”
Her knuckles blanched on the steering wheel as her internal temperature rose ten degrees. “Shut up, Jonah.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You don’t want to hear the truth because you’re scared to death of giving us another chance.
Scared it’ll lead you right back to the same place.”
“Not happening. I don’t know how you tricked me into it before, but it won’t happen again. You hear me?”
“There was no trick, sweetheart. It was just love, pure and simple.”
“I’m done with this conversation.” She turned up the radio and let the intro of “Cry Me a River” fill the cab.
***
This trip wasn’t going the way Jonah had hoped. Confronting Lauren had been a miscalculation—not that it was actually a decision.
The anxiety of the past few weeks had swelled into irritation and he just snapped.
Bad idea. Lauren wouldn’t be pushed into anything, certainly not a relationship. She had to do everything herself—the decisions, the driving, even the navigation apparently.
Fine, he’d just sit here like an idiot. Just as he had for the past two hours and fifty-seven minutes of this trip. Thank
God they were almost to their destination located in a residential area outside a tiny town he’d never been to. The area’s
amenities included only an old-time gas station, an antique shop, and a pizza place.
Lauren slowed in front of a two-story, white-sided home and backed into the driveway. Once past the house, a big outbuilding
came into view. Above the door a beautifully painted sign read Santa’s Workshop .
After she parked they exited the truck, and when they approached the door Jonah ushered her in first. A bell tinkled upon
their entry.
He stepped onto the pristine cement floor and took in the space, which was filled with unpainted wooden cutouts: Frosty the
Snowman, sleighs, Santa, nativities, snowflakes. The smells of sawdust and paint mingled in the air.
A gray-haired woman, clothing splotched with paint, emerged from a room in the back. She looked all of five feet and a hundred
pounds. Crow’s-feet gathered at the corners of her eyes as she smiled. “Hello! I’m Clara. How can I help you?”
“Hello, I’m Lauren and this is Jonah. We’re here to pick up Tammy Landry’s order for the Pinehaven Resort.”
The woman’s face fell. “Oh dear. I’m just finishing those up now.”
“We don’t mind waiting,” Jonah said.
“Well, I’m afraid they won’t be fit for travel till tomorrow. They have to dry, you know, or they’ll get all messed up in
transit. I could’ve sworn I told Tammy tomorrow.”
Jonah glanced at Lauren, taking in her wilted smile. “There must’ve been a misunderstanding.”
“We’ve driven three hours,” Lauren said. “Maybe you have a rack or something we could use to protect them?”
“I’m afraid not. You wouldn’t want road dust and whatnot settling into the finish anyway. I’m so sorry for the trouble.”
He could see Lauren’s wheels spinning for ideas and coming up blank. See her shoulders going rigid at the thought of more
time with him.
“Thank you, Clara,” he said. “We’ll come back tomorrow. Will morning be suitable?”
“Yes, of course. Come by any time after nine. Again, I’m so sorry about the mix-up, but I think you’ll be very happy with
the pieces.”
“I’m sure we will. We’ll see you in the morning.” He ushered Lauren outside.
As soon as the door closed, she turned a glare on him. “Are you gonna tell me this was a mistake? Because I’m not buying it.”
“I have no idea, but if it wasn’t, I had nothing to do with it.”
She crossed her arms, steam practically rolling off her flesh. “I’m not doing this all over again in the morning.”
“Of course not. We’ll find a hotel and stay the night.”
She snorted. “I didn’t exactly spot a Holiday Inn on the way into town.”
“We’ll find something nearby. We’re not making that drive again.” He was already tapping away on his phone. There was service,
but it was very slow.
Lauren strode toward the truck and got in, shutting the door with more force than necessary, because, yes, his mom was no
doubt up to her tricks. Sometimes she interfered, but her heart was in the right place. At the moment he wasn’t sure whether
to be thankful or resentful for the extra time with Lauren—he was leaning toward resentful.
The map finally opened, showing nothing in a twenty-mile radius except for a place called the Timber Ridge Motel. He clicked on the lone photo as he headed toward the truck and grimaced. Beggars and choosers...
He put on a good face as he got in the truck. “Good news. There’s a place four miles away. It appears they have vacancies.”
Mainly because, who’d want to stay there?
Scowl in place, she started the truck.
“Go north out of the drive.”
She stopped at the end of the drive and gave him a withering look.
Right—she didn’t do north and south. “I mean left. Then right at the stop sign. And that’ll take us into the next town.”
He glanced at his phone. There were no reviews of the motel. But that was good, right? People usually left them only when
they had something negative to say.
Minutes later Lauren slowed in front of a one-story motel that squatted on a slab of concrete. It boasted—and he used the
verb lightly—about a dozen exterior rooms. The sign protruding from a rusted pole appeared to be from the seventies and advertised
color TVs. A fenced-in pool sat in the middle of the paved lot, but it was dry and seemed to be sprouting a garden.
Lauren pulled into the lot and parked in front of the office. “Well. Happy birthday to me.”