Tom’s smile was wary, clearly not convinced. “All this to say, when you see people staring—it’s me they’re wondering about, not you. I’m the traitor who left.”
They had reached the truck now, and Tom lifted the tree into the bed without any help. Sameera tried not to stare as his muscles flexed, but it was difficult. He grinned when he caught her, and she schooled her features back to neutral.
“Or maybe they’re wondering how Tom Cooke, Wolf Run’s prodigal son, managed to ensnare all of this,” she said, pointing at herself. She was joking, of course, but his gaze heated as it traveled up her body and came to rest on her lips.
“Me, too,” he said softly.
They stared at each other for a moment, Sameera caught off guard by his admission.Not what I’m here for,she reminded herself. Tom was a flirt, and she was lonely. She couldn’t do anything about the former, but once she had signed Andy as a client and her job was no longer in danger and she had—politely—told HR where to take their passive-aggressive threats, she could do something about the latter. But nothing could happen here, in the middle of all this confusing drama, with her future unknown and shaky.
Wordlessly, they got back in the truck and set off back home. In the cab, Sameera decided it would be in both their interests if she moved the conversation away from dangerous topics and back to Tom’s issues with his family.
“I don’t really buy your story,” she said.
This surprised a laugh out of him. “Excuse me?”
Sameera dropped her end of the tree and put hands on her hips. “Your ‘poor me’ act. I don’t think you believe it, either. Not really.”
“May I remind you that we met a week ago? You don’t know me very well.” Tom’s lips were set in a firm line, and his body language toldher he didn’t want to continue with this conversation. But she was a litigator, used to coaxing testimony from unwilling witnesses.
“I’m not basing my conclusions on any intimate knowledge of your character,” Sameera said calmly. “I’m basing it on facts.” She began to tally her points on her fingers. “You think no one wants you here. Well, Barb is thrilled to see you, and Calvin clearly wants to hang out. Hilda practically offered you a job on the spot, no questions asked. Not to mention Emily seemed excited to have you back,” she couldn’t help but add.
Tom was having trouble meeting her gaze now. “That’s true, I suppose.”
She gave him an extra second to see if he had anything to add about Emily. He didn’t. She continued, “Secondly, there’s an easy solution if you want to stay away from home.” She took a deep breath. “You simplystay away. Ergo, you are exactly where you want to be.” Atlas would have approved of her sharp smile. “Does the defense have anything to add?”
Tom shook his head ruefully. “No, ma’am.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said.
He mulled over her words. “What about you?” he asked. “Alaska is a long way to travel to meet your daughter’s alleged boyfriend’s family. Your mom could have just FaceTimed—I know Tahsin Aunty loves her video calls. What’s really going on there?”
Sameera looked out the window, even as she smiled at the honorific Tom had added to her mother’s name. She wanted to tell Tom the truth about her complicated family relationships but found she couldn’t. “My parents are retired, bored, and have a lot of disposable income,” she said instead.
Tom was a good man; he didn’t call her on her lie. They drove back home in companionable silence, each lost in thought.
Back at Cooke Place, everyone was gathered in the guesthouse. Rob and Barb had picked up on the Malik family’s enthusiasm, and theyhad decided to set the new tree up in the guesthouse sitting room. Barb hurried to the main house to grab extra ornaments from the attic, and they considered their options. Esa held up one made of Popsicle sticks.
“Your handiwork?” he asked Calvin, eyebrows quirking.
Cal laughed and shook his head, nodding at Tom.
“I made it in preschool,” Tom said, reaching for the ornament, which had clearly been glued together by a toddler with more enthusiasm than eye-hand coordination.
Rob stood beside his son. “You were so proud to hang it on our tree that year.” He reached out and turned it over to reveal a framed picture on the other side, featuring toddler Tom, his blond hair a halo of soft curls and an adorable pout on his face, cradled in a younger woman’s arms—his mother, Pamela. Behind them, Cinderella’s castle was visible. He placed the ornament on the tree and stared at it.
Rob cleared his throat. “I’m afraid we don’t have enough decorations for a second tree. Barb went on a bit of a decluttering spree last month.”
“You always need the thing you just threw away.” Barb laughed.
“Do you have any potato chips?” Tom murmured, glancing at Sameera. “How about cheese balls?” Sameera smothered her smile. Despite the strangeness of their interaction in town, she enjoyed Tom’s teasing.
Tahsin jumped up and disappeared into her bedroom. Tom leaned close to Sameera. “She knows I was joking, right?”
“Never joke about food with a desi aunty,” Sameera said. “Mom considers it her personal mission to feed everyone.”
Tahsin returned with an armload of gauzy material and a few jewelry boxes. Catching on, Sameera reached out to hold up one of her mother’s elaborate, colorful dopatta shawls for everyone to admire.
“Good thing I always travel with some of my favorite earrings,” Tahsin said, holding open the boxes to display large jhumka earrings, an elaborate necklace, and a dozen bangles with filigree and crystal work.
