Page 6 of The Christmas Extra

He pressed his lips together, nodded, and wiped his fingers on his pant leg. I exhaled sharply, hit the turn signal, and melded back into the light traffic, leaving Williamsport to head for home. The silence lasted an entire five minutes.

“Still listening to Neil Young, I hear,” he commented, not the least bit wary or even a touch ashamed. I pretended not to hear him. Wished I could block off my nose so that spicy cologne of his wasn’t tickling my senses. Holding my breath wasn’t a sound option as I was driving. “It’s good to know some things don’t change. I have a ton of playlists from our halcyon days.”

“Mostly packed with Hall & Oates,” I said before I could stop myself. Now he knew that I remembered his adoration for the famed musical duo. Damn it.

“Guilty as charged.” I heard the humor in his voice. “I did get to see them perform live. It was May ?83 at the Civic Auditorium in San Francisco. They’d played in LA before they moved to San Diego and San Fran, but I’d been working those nights at a comedy club so I had to miss the closer gigs.”

“Comedy club?”

“Yes, Stillman, a comedy club. You didn’t think that I arrived in LA fresh from the Drexel University theater program and fell right into a starring role on television, did you?”

Yeah, I kind of did. “Of course not.”

“Good, because there were several really lean years. I couch surfed forever it seemed. Worked at diners and clubs, pumped gas, and cleaned toilets. Several times I was halfway to the bus terminal ready to head back east.”

That I also did not know. I chanced a glance at him. He was so damn good-looking, even if his nose looked a bit larger than Hollywood probably liked. It said something about him that he had not given in to the pressure to have it “fixed” with a scalpel. The fact that he let his gray hairs show as well as his laugh lines also made him a little more appealing in my book.

I thought we weren’t saying he was hot or commendable. Did that change?

“Why didn’t you come home?” I asked with as much nonchalance as I could muster. If he had returned, how different my life would have been...

“Quitters never win,” he flung out as if by rote. “Someone once told me that when I was ready to quit the senior production ofHamletbecause I couldn’t nail the lines.”

Fuck. That someone had been me. Why was I so fucking wise?

“You were trying too hard to be Laurence Olivier instead of being Tony Gugliotti.”

He chuckled. I stared at the bumper ahead of me. “True, very true. And I have since learned that I am not a Shakespearean actor. I’m more suited to roles that showcase my wit, looks, and rakish swagger.”

I nearly laughed. The fucker was far too charming. I’d have to build thicker walls to keep him from whittling through to my tender heart.

Chapter Three

We pulled up in frontof my place around eight at night.

We’d have been home sooner, but a certain spoiled actor justhadto have a milkshake from Sheetz. I wanted to go in and order it for him to expedite things. My ass was dragging and my mental walls had been under attack from his charisma forces for an hour. I was beginning to worry that my defenses might weaken from the steady onslaught of allure boulders he kept hurtling at them. I should have never binged theLord of the Ringsmovies last night. Sleep would have been much better, but since I’d not been able to rest, it had been talking trees and wizards.

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