Page 24 of Lighting Up Christmas

“These are better than the muffins in town at Jas’s Running Fox Bakery, but don’t tell her that, because I’ll be cut off forever and then you’ll be stuck with me driving up here, tongue hanging out, begging for a daily muffin handout.”

She was kidding. Probably. But the image was disturbingly real, and he almost said something he shouldn’t, like he’d have a bag ready for her. Because he wouldn’t. That would be weird. She was definitely teasing. Right? He’d always been bad at this. Maybe because he’d been trying to master so many languages but hadn’t wanted to speak. Or maybe it was organic. He just missed context clues or the intent that crouched in the tangle of words.

“Why are they better?” he asked.

“Your flavors are subtle. Unexpected. The muffin is much lighter, fluffy, and I like the smaller size. I don’t feel guilty, like I’ve got to run five miles.”

“Are you a runner?” Why did he ask her that? They weren’t friends. They weren’t going to go running along the river trail or along his property line.

“I love to trail run,” Riley said. “But not in the late fall and winter months. It’s too dark by the time I finish work, and too dark to go before.”

“What do you do to keep in shape?” That was a good follow-up question, since he was practicing. Or too personal?

“My job is pretty physical,” she said. “But I have an area in my house where I have some weights and resistance bands. I do it more for strength and flexibility so that I don’t get injured on the job. Besides, I feel guilty if I just sit and watch TV, so if I’m working out or repairing something or building a light fixture, then I can indulge in two passions.”

“What do you watch on TV?” Jackson would give him a gold star for his conversational efforts.

He imagined romances or rom-coms on Netflix. Didn’t all women love those? Or maybe she’d be into the home improvement shows, considering her profession.

“News. Politics. A few crime dramas.”

He blinked.

“Not what you were expecting, huh?” She laughed. “Not romances.” She stuck her tongue out at him and then carefully folded up the muffin wrapper. “And while Sophia often makes me watch home remodeling shows with her for ideas, they make me mental, because so much of the work is shoddy and wrong and a lot of people are stuck with huge bills repairing everything the crew messed up as they zoomed through, focusing more on storyline and camera angles than the work. Or sometimes the people have to sell their homes due to the jack in their property taxes.”

“Really?”

“Reality television is not reality.” Riley stood. “Now let’s walk. I want to pick your brain.”

“That sounds as appealing as a trip to the dentist.”

“I know, right? A walk with me is like a trip to the dentist.” She spread out her hands and looked up at the space between them like she was reading. “I should post that quote on every dating site. My inbox would flow over like hot lava. Men would be lined up around the block to date me.”

She poured more coffee into her thermos cup and then filled his without asking.

“You’re on a lot of dating sites?” He couldn’t stop the question. It was out before he thought of the consequences of voicing it. He was just so surprised. She seemed so…so…comfortable in her skin and talked to people so easily. And with her job, she would meet a lot of people and likely worked with a lot of men. Getting dates should be easy.

“None.”

But she’d said she was. “You speak in riddles, like the Sphinx.”

“It’s my superpower,” she said earnestly and then intoned, “And you wish to divine the answer so that you, too, may pass.”

Another clue. She had some familiarity with Western mythology.

“Ready.” She turned to him as he wiped down the tasting bar with a clean cloth from a drawer full of them even though Riley just had. “Let’s talk.” She nearly vibrated with energy, like a rocket on the launch pad, in countdown mode.

“Not my superpower,” he murmured, dropping the cloth in the basket he kept under the bar along with the one Riley had used. But he wasn’t going to allow his natural reticence to define him. Or defeat him. Not anymore.

*

“This view nevergets old,” Riley said, arms flung wide as they stood on the top of the ridge at the highest point of the property.They had nearly a three-hundred-degree view of the valley while Mount Ashland loomed behind them, snowy and dominant. “Tell me it never gets old to you,” she whispered, eyes wide because she didn’t want to miss anything.

“The view is why I bought this property,” he said quietly.

“Really?” Riley turned and looked at him.

“The elevation is on the higher side for a vineyard,” he said. “It’s high enough to determine the type of grapes and farming practices, but I guess you could say that about any site,” he said ruefully. “I liked the challenge of being the steward of one of the highest elevation vineyards in the state. The size and location were exactly what I was looking for, but this view…this view,” he repeated quietly.

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