Page 45 of A Very Titan Christmas
She nodded.
Bryce wrapped it around her neck. “The green brings out your eyes.”
Her stomach rolled. “I’ll grab my jacket.” She twisted the scarf around her neck and pulled it through, pulling her hair over it as he helped her into her coat.
She locked the door behind them and hustled through the biting wind to his car. Snow blew off the nearby trees and danced over the windshield, not sticking as they rolled away. He pulled away from her cabin and turned toward her parents’ house. She didn’t have to give him directions. He’d driven there so many times before.
He paused at a stop sign. “You want to talk about last night?”
“Nope.”
Bryce laughed. “All right then.”
The air crackled between them. They didn’t have far to drive. Every part of her wished the time on the road would hurry by, but she also wanted to stop time. Thankfully, they finally arrived, and she could escape their close confines.
He took her hand as they walked up the ramp. She didn’t let go as she opened the front door. “Hey, we’re here.”
The buttery, savory scent of dinner rolled over them. Rachel had never been so grateful for food. The distraction was strong enough to break the sizzling tension between her and Bryce.
“In the kitchen,” her dad called.
They stepped in. Dad kissed her on the cheek and shook hands with Bryce.
Eloise set down the bottle of wine she’d been inspecting and beamed. “Perfect timing. I’m putting you to work. Bryce, open that to let it breathe, and—” She removed her apron. “Wow, I love that scarf.”
Rachel took their coats and hung them on the pegs by the kitchen door that opened into the backyard. “Looks good, doesn’t it? Bryce and I went to the co-op, and I took pictures of the weavers’ space, along with some others.”
Dad snorted and said to Bryce, “Bet that was a lot of fun.”
“Saw a lot oftextiles.” He removed the cork and set the bottle on the dinner table. “Not random scraps of fabric.”
They gathered around the table filled with a steamy meal. The roast chicken was perfectly golden alongside the basket of flaky rolls. The green beans topped with almonds brightened the table. The potatoes had been crisped along their edges as though Eloise had personally inspected each one for its delicious, pan-fried texture. The sides were savory, and Rachel knew there would be sweets from the Cozy Cookie after dinner.
Rachel hoped and prayed for apple and cheddar pie with a scoop of ice cream. “I should have brought my camera to take photographs of this.”
Eloise smiled. “Aren’t you sweet?”
Rachel caught Bryce giving Eloise a quick double take when she put on the southern accent. She should have warned him that Eloise did so every so often. Rachel passed the green beans to him with a look that promised they would dish about all this later that night. His fingers brushed hers, and she was transported to the dinners they’d all had together before.
At that time, they’d rush through meals, shoveling food from their plates into their mouths as fast as possible. They were teenagers, and her parents were adults and incredibly uninteresting to be around. Dinners had been forced upon them,while she and Bryce had things they would have rather liked to be doing.
Like each other.
He took a bite of potatoes and fell into conversation with her parents. Years ago, he’d called them Mr. and Mrs. Porter. Tonight, it was Will and Eloise. Bryce was perfectly at ease with dinner, her parents, and the conversation.
She, on the other hand, was not. Mostly because she still hadn’t figured out how to unlive the kiss from last night. A kiss that wasn’t supposed to happen. Not really. Not during their fake dating situation. But that kiss had felt eons from fake dating and more likethis needs to happen again.
“Rachel.” Eloise’s bright and a little-too-cheerful voice cut through her thoughts. “Pass the rolls, sweetheart.”
She blinked. Bryce already had the basket in hand, offering it to her like he didn’t recall pinning her to the door last night. “Uh, thanks.” She handed the rolls to her mother. “Dad?”
“None for me.” He wistfully stared at the basket. “I had one—”
Eloise cleared her throat.
“Two,” he corrected, “before you arrived. And the doc says to trim it all back.”
“So…” Eloise buttered her roll. “This new little thing you two have going on. Still going strong?”
