Page 40 of Lighting Up Christmas

She reached in the back of her cab and grabbed her laptop case.

“You look tired,” he said.

“That’s a lovely hello. And just what every woman wants to hear.”

“I have coffee ready.”

“Better. Lead with that next time.” Riley resummoned her spirit—she hated when that snarky demon was late—and strode into the winery.

“Oh.” She stopped at the door. The pendant vine light she’d made was lit and hung down invitingly over the bar, which had two places for lunch set. It looked like something out of a MarthaStewart photo shoot. The china was a pretty blue and white pattern. The napkins were pressed and rolled into a blue ceramic napkin ring that matched the plates. On the wine bar there was a bowl filled with leafy greens and another with cut fruit.

On a rolling butcher block work island sat a plugged-in coffeemaker still percolating and a panini maker with a variety of ungrilled sandwiches on a plate. Her mouth watered and stomach rumbled embarrassingly loud.

“Definitely lead with this next time instead of ‘you look tired.’”

“I noticed you liked to eat.”

“Smooth talker,” Riley murmured, thinking how many women she knew would wince to hear that observation. Did he ever date? Or was brutal honesty trending and she’d missed the meme?

He ran a hand through his hair, an unusual sign of agitation for him. With some men, they would have done it to preen—look at me, my hair is thick and full of body—or maybe they’d want the object of their desire to notice the broad, hard planes of their developed chest and bicep flex with such a flirty maneuver.

Not Zhang.

He had stillness down to an art, so any sudden movements seemed like impulses he couldn’t rein in quickly enough.

Maybe he really was shy?

It seemed absurd looking at him from the outside—his aristocratic handsomeness, height, hard body, brain, accomplishments. But no one could read minds or hearts or know what experiences shaped anyone until they shared.

“This is great.” Riley dug deep to stay in the present and stop worrying. “Thank you so much. It was late when I got home, and I was so caught up surfing winery websites to get a feel for what’s needed, I never ate, and then I couldn’t sleep, so I worked on anew light and finally fell asleep just a few hours before I needed to get up for work, I didn’t want to be late, so no breakfast.”

TMI. As usual. And she added more.

“And I had two jobs this morning, one of them an emergency involving a naughty parrot, who thankfully is okay.” She closed her mouth so she’d stop talking, but she didn’t. “So I’ve been running off of nerves and coffee if it isn’t completely obvious.”

“Should I brew decaf?”

“Never. No. That’s sacrilege.”

“That bad?”

Riley nodded and felt her shoulders relax a little.

“Terrible,” she teased.

“Full strength it is.”

“And keep it coming.”

His lips tilted up, and Riley took that as a sign that today was going to be a good day.

*

Zhang leaned backand watched Riley wash the plates and water glasses in the industrial sink—she’d insisted.

Lunch had been surprisingly easy. She’d talked about growing up in the town and how so many kids left to go to college but ended up coming back to raise their families. They’d start businesses or work in Medford, which, with a population of eighty thousand, had enough jobs for many to build their American dreams.

She was so warm and chatty. He thought she would overwhelm him, but he didn’t have a headache or feel a need to retreat into his office or go on a long run. She made being social easy—not demanding that he carry a full conversational load or being disappointed when he didn’t.

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