Over breakfast the next morning, Lauren drank twice as much coffee twice as fast as usual.
She’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, holding her breath, listening to Will sleep. He, of course, fell asleep in about ten minutes.
His breathing fell into a predictable rhythm, and still, it did nothing to lull her to sleep. Instead, she found herself replaying the events of the evening, wondering about his relationship with his players, wondering if he was as wonderful as Rosa said.
Jackson’s sweet mom had recommended this little restaurant for breakfast, assuring them its modest décor was deceiving. “The food is the best in town!” she’d told them.
The sign above the door simply read “Café,” which Lauren supposed was about the most straightforward marketing she had ever seen.
Like the rest of the town, the café had been decked out in Christmas decorations. Gaudy tinsel hung from the ceiling in swaths, creating a sparkly overhang, and there were signs taped to the window and the back wall advertising the many, many holiday events in El Muérdago.
Their waitress, a heavy-set woman whose thick, smudged eyeliner seemed to suggest she was wearing last night’s makeup, sported elf ears and a little piece of greenery pinned underneath her name tag, which said Dot.
“You two just passing through?” she asked after she took their order.
“We are,” Will grinned. “Thought we’d spend the day seeing the sights.”
There were sights?
“Oh, you should!” Dot gushed. She ran through a list of Christmas events happening in El Muérdago, and Will listened to her like she was the most interesting person in the world.
Lauren noticed that he was every bit as charming and attentive to this woman as he had been with the young, pretty waitress he’d flirted with at their first stop, and it occurred to her that maybe this wasn’t flirting to him at all. Maybe he genuinely enjoyed talking to people.
She was having trouble reconciling this revelation, which seemed to be something of a pattern.
“You have to go to the torchlight parade tonight,” Dot said. “That’s one event I never, ever miss. I take my Logan every year. He’s nine now, and he loves it even more than the festival and the concerts. There’s just something about it.”
“What’s a torchlight parade?” Lauren asked dumbly.
Dot’s eyes widened with all the surprise of a woman who couldn’t believe the question had been asked. “You’ve never been to a torchlight parade?”
Lauren shook her head.
“Lauren doesn’t really do Christmas,” Will balled up his straw wrapper and tossed it on the table. “She’s the cutest little Scrooge El Muérdago will ever see.” He winked at her, and despite the playful insult, Lauren found herself working to conceal a smile.
Dot laughed. “I can’t describe it. Couldn’t possibly do it justice. You’re just going to have to come see it for yourself. Be right back with your drinks.”
After she left, Will gave Lauren a once-over. “You look tired.”
“Gee, thanks,” she said.
“No, I just mean—” he paused. “Yeah, I just mean you look tired.”
She laughed. “I am tired. I don’t sleep well when I travel.”
Or when there’s a hot guy in my room.
“Didn’t get your full four hours, huh?” His lopsided smile was like a warm dose of sunshine.
She silently chastised herself for thinking so, forcing herself to become engrossed in the tinsel hanging overhead.
Dot appeared with coffee, or as Lauren called it “nectar of the gods.”
She took a sip, savoring the hot, slightly bitter goodness. She closed her eyes as the liquid traveled down her throat all the way to her empty stomach. “Mmmm.”
“Ooh, that’s a good sign, Dot,” he said. “You’re getting a big tip.”
The older woman giggled and walked away. Lauren shook her head. “You’re shameless.”
He sipped his coffee. “Am I?”
“I’m almost offended,” she said. “I mean, you’ve flirted with every woman we’ve encountered on this trip except me. Even Rosa, who fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”
Surprise skittered across his face. “Do you want me to flirt with you?”
Her face flushed. “No! I mean, of course not. I don’t want. . .I’m just saying.” She retreated back to her coffee, hoping it would help shut her mouth.
He took a drink. “Good. Because I can’t flirt with you.”