Page 31 of Love, Lies and Mistletoe
“That’s why I enlisted some help today.” She glanced at the street and the empty parking spaces for Kyle’s Rover. “Though he’s not here yet.”
Rick set the red dolly on the ground and stacked boxes onto it. “Not a problem. We’ll get these inside in no time.”
Good on his word, Rick made a dozen trips while Layla carried in some smaller boxes. She couldn’t wait to open them.
After he’d brought in the last load, Layla stopped him. She handed Rick a lidded cup of steaming cocoa she’d just brewed on her Keurig when he turned into the alley. “Here you go. Thanks so much.”
“Aww. You didn’t have to do this,” he said.
“I know, but I want to let you know how much I appreciate you. For all your hard work and smiles.” She had no idea if he was a coffee drinker, but she figured hot chocolate would be a safe bet for anyone.
Rick said goodbye and passed Kyle as he was leaving through the back door.
“Sorry I’m late. I got held up at the office.” Kyle shrugged off his coat. He hung it over a chair and kissed her forehead.
While he studied the pile of boxes, Layla discreetly smoothed the hair he’d mussed with his kiss. “Do you see patients on the weekend?” she asked.
“No, but I go in to catch up sometimes. Paperwork.” Outside, the alarm on Rick’s truck beeped again as he backed out of the alley. “Did you get everything inside already?”
She nodded, noting his frown. There was no sense in reminding him that she’d said to be here by eleven.
He brushed his hands together. “Well, I can help you unpack then.”
Truthfully, she’d rather do this part by herself since she enjoyed it so much. But he was here and ready to work. She opened the box from Heart Hills Farms, her supplier of candles, and slid it toward him as he found a seat on her rolling desk chair. What harm could he do to a box of candles?
She set to unpacking the hand-painted tabletop frames from another box. They were adorable; little wilderness and small town vignettes were painted in acrylics across the bottom of each frame. There was a main street scene with a yellow clapboard storefront that reminded her of Copper Creek Home. Smiling, she set it aside. Maybe she’d ask Kyle to take a photo of her standing on the porch later. The frame would look perfect on her desk. The request was on the tip of her tongue as she glanced at him across the room. But Kyle was stacking candles three high on the shelf, shoving them into their designated spaces carelessly, clinking the glass jars together.
“Are you in a hurry or something?” She needed to stop him before he broke one.
“No, why?”
“You seem rushed.”
He froze, studying the rows of candles he’d already loaded onto the shelf. “Am I not doing this right or something?”
“The jars are fragile.” She bit her tongue. He should really stack them two high, not three.
He nodded slowly and put the next two on the shelves in slow motion, like he was mocking her. Layla took a deep breath and concentrated on pricing the frames as she took them from the box.
“Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” he asked a few minutes later.
It had really snuck up on her this year. With the store so busy, she hadn’t given it much thought. Her parents and sister were getting together in California. She couldn’t get away though. Not on the busiest shopping weekend of the year.
“Not on Thanksgiving Day. My parents are flying in on Saturday though. We’ll probably have a little dinner on Sunday. You?”
She half expected him to invite her to do something. Maybe he arranged a meal with friends or Marybelle or a combination of friends and family, where everyone brought a side dish or a pie. It might be one big, talky group, with football on the television and kids running circles around the adults, and the scent of turkey and sweet potato casserole heavy in the air. It had been a while since she’d had a Thanksgiving like that. It would have been a nice change.
Layla glanced at him in time to see one of the candles slip from the shelf as he stacked it. Kyle caught it with his other hand.
“Close one,” he said, grinning when he caught her watching him. He waggled his eyebrows as if he’d just saved the world from nuclear disaster. Layla was ready to give him another task.
“No dinner plans,” he said, finally acknowledging her question. “I’ve decided to take an extended weekend and get some skiing in in Banff. I’ll leave Wednesday midday and get back Sunday.”
She only realized she was staring at him when he glanced her way with a candle in each hand.
“What’s wrong?”
Whatwaswrong exactly? Maybe that she only learned about his trip now? Or that his interest in her holiday plans only served as a way to segue into his travel itinerary? And it irritated her most of all that shehadexpectations. They hadn’t dated long enough for her to expect anything from him. Or should she?
