Page 14 of Can She Get Home for Christmas?

“You mean where people helped slaves escape before the Civil War?”

“Yeah.” He pushed the bed back into place. “We should eat, and you should get some sleep.”

“What about you?”

“I have to stand guard.”

“I can do that.”

He looked doubtful.

“All I have to do is wake you up if there’s trouble.”

“Let me think about it.”

She took the rest of the food out of the bags and put it on the counter. The Jell-O mold and ham salad were supposed to be served cold, but the potatoes were a problem. He decided to wrap a couple of them in aluminum foil, and put them in a skillet on the hot plate—and turn them frequently so they wouldn’t burn.

He gave her that job while he got out the plastic cutlery and paper plates he’d been using, then set out the cold dishes.

“How are the potatoes coming?” he asked.

She pulled the foil aside. “They’re a little warm. I think they need another ten minutes.”

“Okay,” he answered, thinking this was a pretty strange domestic scene. Frank Decorah had apologized for keeping him on assignment on Christmas, but he’d been afraid to give up watching the road. Now here he was with Samantha. That would be a dream come true if he weren’t still worried about her.

Chapter 6

Jax shifted in his chair.Don’t get too excited, he warned himself.You may be all wound up with her, but she still thinks you’re a voyeuristic creep.

When the potatoes were heated, she brought them to the table. His first bite was beyond his expectations.

“This is amazing.”

“I make them for family get-togethers.”

“The guy who marries you is going to be very lucky.”

The observation had simply popped out, and it hung in the air between them. He quickly took a bite of the ham salad. It was also outstanding. He kept from gushing over it, but he couldn’t help thinking again that she was quite a cook.

“You know a lot about me,” she said as they ate, and he was afraid the conversation was going south again. Instead she said, “What about you?”

Relief flooded through him that she’d made an effort at a normal “get to know you” approach. Still he said, “Not much to tell.”

“Of course there is. Do you have a good relationship with your parents?”

“I did. They were killed in a car crash a couple of years ago.”

She reached across the table and pressed her hand to his. For a moment he felt the warmth of her touch before she pulled away. “Oh, I’m so sorry. And here I was . . .”

“It’s okay. It was a bad shock, but I learned to cope with it.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“I’ve got a sister, but she and I have a rocky relationship. She doesn’t like my profession.”

“Why not?”

“She says I’m putting myself at risk, and she doesn’t want to lose me, too. I guess she copes with that by distancing herself.”

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