Page 24 of A Newport Christmess

She gestured to her entire head dramatically. “Like a rodeo clown that’s seen better days!”

I couldn’t restrain my smile a moment longer. “I think it’s a good look on you.”

“Really?” She disappeared from the doorway, and the sink turned on. “I’m glad to know your preference,” she called over the running water. “Now I can replicate the look on our upcoming date.” She reemerged, drying her face with the hand towel and tossing it back toward the sink.

“Perfect.”

She scoffed, pulling her now-dry and slightly disheveled-looking hair into a ponytail. With one hand still holding her hair in place, she neared the dining room table and looked between the trays of gingerbread, her gaze searching for something.

“Are you looking for this?” I asked, grabbing a hair tie off the coffee table and tossing it to her.

To my surprise, she caught it and effortlessly wound it around her hair until a massive pile of waves sat atop her head in a sort of bun. “Thanks.” Her tone was still a little clipped. But in my defense, I’d assumed she’d remember the calamine lotion on her face.

She stilled. “Is that from me?”

I followed her gaze to a few light-pink marks marring the brown leather. “I’m sure it will come off.”

She hurried over to the part of the couch where she’d lain and frantically rubbed at a spot with her bare hand. It didn’t budge. “Great. Now I’ll have to spend the next five years as a receptionist at my dad’s office, trying to pay off some crazy-expensive couch that I don’t even own.” She huffed and kept trying to wipe it. “What’s in this stuff, anyway? Paint?”

I grabbed the slightly damp washcloth I’d given Quinn for her eyes earlier and stepped up next to her. “Here. This should do the trick.” I leaned down and rubbed at one of the spots. With a little pressure and a few swipes, it vanished.

“Thank heavens.” She grabbed the cloth. “I can finish cleaning it. It’s my mess.”

Her fingers grazed mine, and a strange electric pulse traveled up my arm. Had she somehow shocked me? With how motionless she was standing, both our hands still clinging to the cloth, she must have felt it, too. “I’m happy to clean it. I got you into this mess.”

Her gaze slowly lifted to mine. After a moment of standing there, she dropped her hand and took a giant step back, like I was some kind of threat. “Thanks.” She paced near the kitchen with a distant gaze, like a trapped animal in a cage. I must have crossed some sort of unspoken boundary. Or maybe she didn’t like it being just the two of us here.

I quickly cleaned the rest of the marks, eager to be on my way. “Done.”

She looked at me like she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone.

I pointed toward the couch. “The marks came off.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “That’s a relief. I guess I can cross ‘indentured servant’ off my to-do list.” She was acting strange. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but something was wrong.

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah.” Her head bounced up and down. “Just hungry, I think.”

That was my cue. Whatever was bothering her, it was obvious she didn’t want me here. “I need to eat dinner, too, so—”

“You’re welcome to join me.”

I stared at her. Why would she ask me to stay if she wanted me to go? Was this one of those wrong-answer-either-way kind of things? If I left, she’d be upset, and if I stayed, she’d be annoyed? Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t dated in a while. I was forgetting how women behaved. Or maybe it was just Quinn I couldn’t read correctly.

She fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater. “I mean, because you’re here, and it seems like the right thing to do—invite you for dinner. Not because of ... anything else. Obviously. But we’re friends now, so ... if you want to stay, you can, and if you don’t ... well then, don’t.” At the end of her blurted explanation, her whole face scrunched up like she was momentarily in pain, but she quickly recovered, her cheeks now blazing red.

I had zero idea what she wanted, but for some inexplicable reason, I kind of wanted to stay. And now that I’d discovered Nikki hadn’t intended to set me up with her, I didn’t need to be as guarded. “I don’t know how I could pass on an invitation like that,” I said, testing the waters.

Her shoulders relaxed, and she gave a small smile. “Maybe you should wait to decide until I tell you what we’re having—canned-chicken sandwiches with frozen green beans and carrots.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “Ah! And I have tortilla chips still. I think.”

Despite what I originally thought, I was kind of getting the vibe she wanted me to stay. “Wow. If you didn’t sell it before, that certainly did the trick.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. I promise. I had the same thing for dinner last night.”

“If it’s good enough to eat two days in a row, I guess I need to try it.”

She started toward the kitchen. “I mean, don’t set your expectations too high. I’ve eaten through most of my fresh food in the last week and a half, so it’s what I have.”