Home > Books > A Cross-Country Christmas(59)

A Cross-Country Christmas(59)

Author:Courtney Walsh

He reached across the table and put a hand on hers. She froze. “You’re going to be amazing at this, you know that right? We need to celebrate.”

“No. It’s fine. Let’s just get going.” She stood.

“Lo, you gotta take time to celebrate this. These kinds of wins only come along so many times in your life.”

“Maybe I’ll celebrate when the job is finished and everyone is happy with what I’ve done.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “But right now, I just want to get home.”

And with that, she walked away. Whatever bridge had been built between them seemed to have been blown up overnight, and Will had no idea why.

He ordered his coffee to go and found her waiting outside near the sidewalk. Even in her fleece pajama pants and ratty old sweatshirt she looked sort of incredible. It was something about the way the morning light hit her. Or the messy ponytail. Or the sunglasses that hid half of her face.

Or maybe, it was simply something about Lauren.

He’d fallen for her, and he had no idea how to proceed. With caution, he assumed. He felt like a sacrificial rat sniffing out live mines in a field.

They walked to the repair shop where—thankfully—the Grand Cherokee was waiting for them. He paid for the new tire and found Lauren in the parking lot.

“You okay?” He unlocked the car.

“Yeah,” she said absently. “Just have a lot on my mind.” She stuffed her bags into the back, then opened the passenger side door. He put a hand on her arm, and again, her muscles tensed.

“I’m really excited for you, Lauren. You’ve been working hard for this, and it’s a huge deal. Don’t pretend like it’s not.”

She held his gaze, and he could see thoughts tumbling around in her mind, but in response, she simply put on a clearly fake smile and said, “Thanks.” Then got in the car.

Square one.

They were back where they’d started. As if they’d never shared a single moment on common ground.

And he had no idea how to fix it.

Chapter 25

Lauren’s reinstated resolve was wavering with every touch, every kind word Will said to her. She knew he didn’t stay downstairs and hook up with that leggy blonde because she heard his knock on her door about twenty minutes after she texted. She knew he couldn’t sleep because she’d laid there, awake, listening to the sound of his television through the wall.

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he was watching Die Hard. The first one.

And she saw his last text—a heart emoji—come in when her phone lit up on the nightstand.

She also knew she had no right to be mad at him. And yet, she couldn’t be nice to him. She had no idea what had stopped her from answering his knock last night. Only that she’d let herself think about him—dream about him—in a way she swore she would never do again.

This is stupid. What am I doing? Why am I like this?

Will had a magnetic charm that women were drawn to. There would always be a leggy blonde or a stunning brunette or a flirty redhead to compete with. And she knew she’d never come out ahead.

Still, the silence made her even sadder. She missed their banter. She even missed Will singing off-key.

She missed Will, and he was sitting right next to her.

She didn’t know how to be friends with him without falling for him.

Will didn’t stop nearly as many times as he had on their previous travel days; Lauren guessed it was because of her bad attitude. But around noon, he pulled off for gas and food at a little café next to a fudge factory.

The air between them was superficially cordial. He was acting like he was invited to a wedding and didn’t know anyone at his table. The walk to the door was tense and she hated that it was her fault.

She pretended to engross herself in her phone, hyper-aware that he was watching her. Their food came, and she preceded to push it around her plate without really eating.

And still he watched her. Finally, she met his gaze.

“You’re staring at me.”

He nodded. “I am.”

She looked around, avoiding his eyes. “Why?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with you.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she brushed off. “I told you, I’m just stressed out.”

“No. This is different. You’re being all closed off and rude again, like you were at the beginning of this trip.”

She shrugged. “What makes you think anything’s changed since then?”

Lauren, good grief, that was mean.

 59/82   Home Previous 57 58 59 60 61 62 Next End