“That’s wonderful news,” Aunt Beverly chirped, yanking her back to reality. “Then you have time to do me a quick favor this morning?”
“Uh, sure.”That’s what you get for fibbing, Jules.
“Luke came by this morning to let us know he had Nate’s car towed to the mechanic, and I asked if we could borrow his truck to transport a Christmas tree. Would you two mind picking one out today?”
“Um.” Juliet glanced at Nate, who’d frozen midbite, his eyes wide with a flicker of panic. Why did he seem so perturbed by the proposition? Wasn’t the whole point of his visit to maximize the holiday experience? It didn’t get much more Christmassy than cutting down your own tree. Or was it the idea of doing it withherthat bothered him?
From the moment they met, she’d gotten the sense he didn’t like her all that much. To be fair, shehadleft him stranded on the side of the road in a rainstorm. But not without a valid reason. Once she had an opportunity to explain and apologize, she could clear the air.
She wasn’t sure why his disapproval sat so heavy on her heart. Perhaps because, even in a short amount of time, he seemed like a stand-up guy. Before breakfast, Aunt Beverly had waxed poetic about all the helpful things he’d done last night, from restocking firewood to fixing her wobbly table. According to her aunt, he deserved some sort of sainthood. While Juliet wouldn’t pin a medal on the guy just yet, he did strike her as someone sincere and likable. And, for whatever reason, she was determined to change his poor opinion of her. Maybe they’d have a chance to talk on their Christmas tree errand? That is,ifhe agreed to go with her.
“It would be a huge help,” Aunt Beverly continued, laying it on thicker than her pancakes. “Frank won’t admit it, but he’s no spring chicken anymore. I don’t want him lugging around a seven-foot tree with his bad back.”
Frank grunted but didn’t disagree.
“I’d be happy to help, Mrs.—er, Beverly,” Nate offered without looking in Juliet’s direction. “I can manage on my own, if your niece would like to stay here so she can write.”
Juliet glowered.Your niece?She was sitting two feet across from him. There were few things more annoying than when someone spoke about her as if she wasn’t in the room. Irked, she sat a little straighter and announced, “I don’t mind coming along. I could use the break.” Break? Who was she kidding? The day had just started, and she hadn’t even written two words yet. It was quite possible she’d cut off her nose to spite her face, but she couldn’t backpedal now.
She forced a smile as Nate shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Wonderful!” Aunt Beverly beamed with delight as if she couldn’t be happier. She must be really excited about the Christmas tree. “Then it’s all settled. You two can leave right after breakfast.”
“I’m ready now,” Nate said a little too hastily. Was he trying to ditch her already?
“So am I,” she countered, chugging her coffee even though the hot liquid burned her throat.
“Before you go,” Frank interjected. “There’s one more thing I need you to do. I’d like you to deliver a pound of coffee to the Calendar Café. I have a new blend I want Cassie to try. The café’s on the way to the Christmas tree farm, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble.” If it wouldn’t be any trouble, why did Frank look so guilty?
Juliet caught Frank and her aunt exchanging a strange look—the type of surreptitious glance shared by coconspirators. But what exactly were they conspiring about?
“Not a problem,” Nate told Frank, with an expression that hinted it was definitely a problem.
He politely cleared his plate and avoided her gaze as they climbed into Luke’s truck moments later. Staring straight ahead, he turned on the radio and fiddled with the stations until staticky Christmas carols emanated from the ancient speakers.
They drove in silence for several minutes, following the directions Frank had scribbled on a slip of paper, until Juliet couldn’t take it anymore.
“So, Nate,” she said as casually as possible, while her heart beat a nervous rhythm, “I’ve been meaning to apologize about last night. I’m sorry I didn’t offer you a ride. I can be a little leery of strangers.”
He stole a sideways glance, surprise reflected in his striking blue eyes. His features softened, morphing into the faintest of smiles. “Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing. For all you know, I could be a psychopath.”
“Couldbe?” She raised both eyebrows. “Present tense?”
He flashed a grin—a genuine and ridiculously adorable grin. “You never know.”
“In that case, I could be crazy, too.”
“The cute ones usually are,” he teased, then instantly flushed, strangling the steering wheel as if mortified by what he’d said.
Had Mr. Cold Shoulder just called her cute? And why had the compliment conjured an odd fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach?
She didn’t have time for romantic entanglements. Especially not with a guy she knew nothing about, other than his connection to a homeless shelter.
Okay, Jules. You apologized and cleared the air. Your people-pleaser impulse can relax now.
She shifted in her seat, and Nate cleared his throat.
Cue the awkward silence again.
