Page 33 of Take Me Home for Christmas

“Tell her whatever you want,” he replied.

She fingered one of the notebooks before West slapped his hand down on top of it. “At least you’re working on it, right?” she asked.

Please say yes!

Something about West’s expression made her suspicious. She reached for his laptop and turned the screen to see it.

“Oh. My. God! You’re designing gingerbread houses?”

“I told you I intend to make a good showing.”

Elle dropped her forehead to the table. “Do you realize that if you stopped dilly-dallying and put more effort into writing, you’d be finished by now?”

“Do you realize my dilly-dallying gets you more time in Chances Inlet with your family?”

“Maybe I don’t want to spend the entire season stuck here!”

She quickly glanced around the kitchen making sure no one witnessed her outburst. The last thing she wanted was to hurt anyone’s feelings. They’d never understood her need to keep up with the Fab Four.

West contemplated her over his steepled fingers. “Maybe you just want to avoid a certain deputy sheriff?”

Elle could actually feel the blood draining from her face. What did this man know about her and Hayden? More importantly, how did he know?

Damn Bernice.

It didn’t matter. She was tired of West and his insolent attitude. The only thing that mattered was him meeting his deadline and her getting the career opportunity she needed to hold her head up among this family.

“Helen didn’t send you here to psychoanalyze me any more than she expects you to build gingerbread houses. Or wear ugly sweaters. Or to swipe right,” she told him. “You’re here to finish the book you’ve already been paid a crap-ton of money to write. So please, do us both a favor and open that file and make the magic happen.”

His patented arrogant look remained in place. “‘Make the magic happen.’ As in, wave my magic wand and the words will appear?”

She took a sip of her tea to keep from screaming.

“Have you written a book before, Gidget?”

Why must he call her that?

“No, I have not. But it can’t be that difficult when you already know how the story goes. You lived that ending. Just write it.”

Something shifted in his expression. It grew darker. His lips formed a grim line. West gathered his notebooks and shoved them into his backpack before slamming his laptop closed.

“You’re exactly right. I do know how it goes.” He slung the backpack over his shoulder and stood with such force that the table teetered. “In fact, I get to relive it every night. In vivid detail.”

Guilt washed over her as he stormed out the back door. What was it Kate had said the other day?

You both have the same telltale battle scars.

No telling what the correspondent had experienced during his months embedded with troops. Or simply witnessing conflict. None of it could have been pretty. Was that what was keeping him from finishing the book? Trauma?

She dropped her forehead to the table again. Badgering a man who was wracked with pain wouldn’t get them anywhere, especially since Elle was now consumed with guilt. West could be annoying, sure. And she would only get the job she coveted if he finished his memoir on time. But did the end justify the means? The last thing she ever wanted to do was cause anyone more discomfort when they were already hurting.

“That bad, huh?”

Lamar’s voice had her snapping her head back up. She sighed.

“Why does life have to be so complicated?” she asked.

The irony wasn’t lost on her that she’d asked her father the very same question the other day. Hopefully, her stepfather would be a little more forthcoming than a dead man.

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