Page 57 of Lighting Up Christmas

“Sit out the storm at the house.”

“But?” Her eyes clouded with worry.

They were both drenched, but he wore a top-of-the-line coat. And she didn’t. “Please.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I insist.”

Riley jumped into her truck and followed him up to the house. He opened the bay of his garage for his truck and for hers. A four-car garage had seemed like overkill at the time, but he’d wanted to build for the future. And he already had a tractor in one oversize bay along with a snowmobile and a Gator in another.

He turned off his truck and sat for a moment. Why did he feel like he needed to gather strength and enforce his defenses just because Riley was coming into his house?

Jackson was right. He did need to make an effort and socialize more. He’d had it on his list to start practicing, but he’d never fully wanted to until this afternoon.

Well, here goes something.Zhang hit the remote, and both doors rolled shut, closing him in with Riley.

Chapter Eleven

“You’re sure youdon’t mind, Zhang?” Riley asked for the second or third or fourth time as she settled in front of his gas fire, legs stretched out in his soft sweats, socks, and T-shirt. Whatever his clothing brands, they were sky-high luxurious, and she loved the muted colors, but this would be the one and only time she had a chance to feel this blend of materials against her skin. She didn’t have the bank to spend money on much that wasn’t practical. She had a business to build and employees to pay.

“Better than you bruised and bloody in a ditch.”

“There’s a compliment not many women get to hear on a Tuesday afternoon.”

“I am not suited for compliments,” he said stiffly. “But I didn’t want you to risk injury on the way home.”

“Thank you. That’s better,” she said softly, wondering again if she should tease him. It was tempting. She wanted to create comradery between them, but she didn’t want to push too far if he was intent on remaining her client and she his contracted employee.

Riley liked to imagine that her mother, who had always seemed like the center of the family, the laughter, the light, and the negotiator, would have kind and helpful advice for her. Because she’d died when Riley was so young, Riley had been thrust into solving her own problems and making her own way fairly early on.

“Thank you.”

“You’ve said that.”

She was nervous. She swallowed and smiled. She’d warmed up after her hot shower in the most beautifully gleaming white glass tiled guest shower, and Zhang had left her something of his to wear while he’d put her clothes in his dryer. Now he’d made a creamy latte before he started baking what looked to be muffins.

Pretty much the perfect man.

Luckily, she kept that thought to herself. No need to scare him since he was going to be stuck with her for a few hours.

“I keep thinking of that Bob Dylan song about shelter from the storm. I’m just hoping that this one is as fast moving as the meteorologists say so that there is a break before the bigger storm’s arrival.” She didn’t imagine his hospitality would happily extend to having an overnight guest. She already felt like she was pushing both of their comfort zones. She was independent. Not used to relying on anyone, and she definitely never wanted to be a burden.

“Looking at the Doppler, this one hit a little early, but the other is stalled out slightly and slowing down. Good for you getting home in the break after I plow the higher elevation part of the road down to the main road, but bad for us later because the storm is gathering more energy over the ocean.”

She nodded. “Can I help?”

“I thought you don’t like to cook.”

Riley huffed. “I’m not really skilled at it,” she said, cautiously, hating to admit she was lacking in a fundamental. “I can, but it’s no fun to cook for one.”

He nodded and cracked the eggs one-handed into the mix he’d concocted from scratch. He added a few more spices—she wasn’t even sure what they were—before he began whisking them.

“You get used to it.”

Such a simple statement, but so much behind it—at least for Riley, because, yes, one could get used to almost anythingbut still not find the joy in it. But maybe she was reading too much into Zhang’s words. Maybe it was just Christmas that made her feel lonely. It was dumb. She had a lot to look forward to. Friends and plans. She didn’t want to re-examine her mini-meltdown at Sophia’s shop.

After a moment of hesitation, she left the fire even though he’d suggested that she sit there and walked toward his spacious kitchen. It was how she’d imagined it. A lot of white. Some grays. But there were splashes of color on the walls—a few large landscape paintings in brilliant oranges and yellows and featuring old barns or old cars. They were beautiful. He also had several olive-shaped pillows tucked onto his couch and an oversize chair. She wasn’t sure if it was Zhang’s character or an expensive designer’s touch.

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