Faking Christmas(48)

I gave the best smile I could muster. Their words were causing me to fidget and rendered me unable to meet Miles’s eyes.

“How did you hear about us, if not from Miles?” Sandy asked, scooping a carton of ice cream.

I chuckled lightly. “A scheming mutual friend.”

“Remind me to give Millie a hug when we get back,” Miles said, looking over at me with an expression that could only be described as sweet, which reminded me that we were now acting.

“How’s the blackout going?” Jack asked while his wife filled my bowl with four large scoops of vanilla ice cream. I mean, I loved ice cream as much as the next girl, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had that much. I was a polite, one-scoop-only type of girl in a public setting.

Once finished, she passed me the bowl. “Help yourself with whatever toppings you’d like. Don’t be shy now.”

“So far, we’re right on track,” Miles said, accepting his bowl—five large scoops in his. “Olive was begging to do the polar plunge last night, so everything else should be easy.” I smiled and poked him hard in the leg as I contemplated between slathering my ice cream with caramel sauce or maple syrup. “And she’s excited to drink fresh chocolate milk straight from the barn.”

“No, I’m not!” I announced boldly, making them all laugh.

“You’re not excited? It’s our special chocolate milk for guests,” Jack said. Though his words sounded hurt, he had a delighted twinkle in his gaze that reminded me of his rascally son.

I tentatively poured a tiny bit of maple syrup on my ice cream. Another nudge from Miles made my arm pour about three times the amount I had anticipated into my bowl.

At my withering stare, he only grinned boyishly, whispering, “Trust me.”

We settled in to enjoy our dessert. Miles and I sat on one side of the table with his parents lounging across from us. He had removed his arm from my chair so he could eat, and it felt like something was missing. Which was crazy. I also hated to admit it, but the extra maple syrup really took the ice cream to a whole new level. I eyed the extra candy bar toppings and whipped cream sitting in the middle of the table with fondness but refrained.

“Do you make your own maple syrup?” I asked.

Jack beamed at me. “We used to, but it became too hard to keep up when we expanded. We buy most of what we use here from Morse Farm down the road. Has Miles taken you there yet? You can walk all through their trees and see the whole process. ‘Course now, everything is covered in snow, but you can still tour the place and try some samples. Make sure Miles buys you a maple creme.”

I smiled. Growing up in New Hampshire, I wasn’t ignorant of the process of making maple syrup, but for some reason, I had always found the maple farms fascinating. “It sounds amazing.”

Miles looked over at me, eyebrows raised. “It’s a date.”

I swallowed and looked down at my now dwindling bowl. Miles reached across the table, his arm brushing mine for a second while he added more crushed cookies to his ice cream. Tentatively, I waited for him to put the spoon back before adding a few to my own bowl.

“So, Miles told us a little about how you two met, but how did it officially happen?” Sandy asked me, beaming.

The smile on my face froze as I glanced at Miles. He raised his eyebrows at me and nodded toward his parents as if to say, Go right ahead and tell the story, Celery Stick.

Crazy how well I seemed to know his smirks and pointed smiles.

“Well, he finally just wore me down,” I said with a shrug, giving him a teasing smile. “He kept asking and asking.”

Miles’s eyes narrowed at me, though he smiled good naturedly. “Can you blame me?” he said to his parents.

“What do you like about Miles?”

I stared at Sandy, trying to keep the horror off my face. Who asks a question like that?

As if she could sense my discomfort, she smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry if that’s a weird question, but I love hearing the good stuff. The stuff that pulls two people together.”

“We’re only dating, Mom. It’s pretty new,” Miles said, adjusting in his seat.

She blanched a bit, and her face began to turn red. “I know. I’m sorry, don’t answer that question if I’m pushing you too far. I just…it’s so fun to have Miles bring a girl home.”

Bringing me home was a bit of a stretch, being that I was the one who created the whole mess. I laughed softly and took another bite of ice cream, expecting the conversation to move on, but when I looked up, I met Sandy’s hopeful eyes again, and my heart dropped. I couldn’t bear to not answer this question for her.

I swallowed my bite, made even more delicious with the addition of cookie pieces, and said generously, “There are lots of things to love about Miles.”

The man in question reared back in his chair slightly before turning to look at me. Probably surprised by my statement. Heck, I was surprised by my statement.

“Really?” Miles said, leaning in close and putting an arm around the back of my chair. “Do tell.”

There were warring emotions inside of me as I looked into the earnest and sweet face of Sandy Taylor. I should play this straight. Search deep into the creativity of my brain and come up with something I could say about her son. But the amused anticipation vibrating from the man at my left also triggered my snarky side. The side that desperately wanted nothing more than to put him in his place. My mouth opened…