Page 24 of A Loser by Christmas
I pull out my phone and give it a wiggle. “Because I was . . .”
“Nosy about me?”
Yes, but I select the word my grand-mère always called me. “I was curious.” I still am. I’m so, so curious about everything Calum-related. About cool eyes I know can turn warm. About bruises fading on someone so gentle with today’s children, or with an egg I still don’t know for sure holds a living duckling. I’m as curious about this decision to revisit somewhere food critics have slated as I am about what motivated him to pull up my blankets to tuck around me.
Big and bad, my arse.
I’m still a sucker for Christmas puzzles. I drift closer to solve his, only Calum speaks first. “Maybe you shouldn’t believe everything you read online.”
“No?”
“No, because most of those bad restaurant reviews are old. And any recent ones—” He winces the same way Dad did each time he watched opponents collide with Calum. “It isn’t Penny’s fault that her husband did a moonlight flit with her head waitress. Or that his leaving left her in the lurch with no chef. The other ones she’s hired haven’t been great either, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how often she fed Pat and Seb when they were students. Or how she found a friend for Jack when he was first in the city and so lonely. Penny’s good people. The best, and that’s all any reviews should say about her, which I thought was your thing, yeah? Chasing the truth until you find it.”
It is. So is catching every moment with my camera to add to my contest entry, which I still need to confirm he agrees to. I yank off my gloves and unzip my jacket a little to set my GoPro running, all while we’re both still in the path of Christmas shoppers.
I could get out of their way. Could step back into the same alley where a surprise kiss started the ball rolling on a fascination that hasn’t slowed down any. Calum takes off his own gloves. He holds a hand out, one quirked eyebrow issuing a silent order.
I’m usually so bad at following those.
If Dad witnessed me following this one, his jaw would drop, I know it. That’s what happens all the same—my camera gets close-up footage of my hand getting swallowed up by a hockey player’s. His fingers curl around mine, and his warmth hits me. So does the smile I like so much on him.
Calum holds my hand for just long enough to draw me across the street with him to the restaurant entrance. He lets go to hold the door open for me in a second silent order, and . . .
Yes, I’m usually the worst at following those.
Tonight, not even traffickers could stop me.
8
Noneof those one-star reviews mentioned this place being a fire hazard. There’s so much tinsel it must be. I guess it’s meant to be a sparkling distraction from the fact that this restaurant is empty, apart from a hostess who turns out to be its namesake.
“Hey, Penny.”
“Calum! I didn’t expect to see you again!” She kisses his cheek and hugs him like he’s family.
“I had to come back.” He isn’t in any hurry to let her go. “Because you were busy when we left the other night. I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“I was so sorry to miss you, love!”
Everything she says is an exclamation. I guess it’s contagious when Calum lifts her off her feet. “Me too!”
She blinks fast after he sets her down. “You must have gone while I was caught up in a kitchen crisis. Just a tiny little fire!” That accounts for the smell. Her laugh tinkles. The damp gleam of her eyes tells a less happy story. “Please, Lord, don’t let there be a repeat tonight. I could do without any more bad publicity.” She presses her palms together, sending a prayer to the God offood reviews maybe. “It’ssogood to see you again. And with a lovely friend too!”
Calum doesn’t correct that friend label. He just says, “Merry Christmas, Pen.”
“And it will be merry now that I’ve got two customers!” Her smile brightens. “Please sit in the window. Maybe that will encourage some evening shoppers to come in.”
“You have time?”
It takes a moment to compute that he means me. “You want me to stay? I thought your evenings were booked solid.” It’s great news if he’s free this evening. I can double-check that he’s fully on board with me using his footage for my entry, then seal the deal by getting horizontal somewhere that doesn’t smell as smoky.
He dashes that dream. “I do have to be somewhere else soon. Eat with me first?”
Penny swoops in to pull out a chair. “Let me take your jacket, love.” She freezes at the sight of my camera, that bright smile dimming until Calum gets explicit.
“Valentin isn’t here to photograph your food. He’s videoing me.”
“Yes,” I cross my heart. “I only have eyes for Calum.”
