Matt sipped his cider to avoid blurting out On Christmas? She knew what day it was as well as he did. “Can I help?”
Hope rocked back on her heels where she was kneeling beside the couch. “More help? Do you have a spinning wheel that whenever the hand stops on certain squares you go into the community and do random acts of helpfulness?”
“Good idea, but no. I was just…”
Just what? He stared down, at a loss for words. She rested on the floor with an expression of complete calm on her face. Her skintight leggings of bright red fabric and a patchwork-quilt sweater that hung nearly to her knees made her look vibrant and alive.
Hope sighed softly, placing her cup to the side and wiggling until she had her arms wrapped around her knees. She rested her chin on them and stared back. “Matt, why are you here? I mean, I’m not going to kick you out, but it’s strange. You got anything more than ‘I was in the neighborhood’ to say?”
He opened his mouth then shut it quickly. How could he tell her anything when he still wasn’t sure what had brought him in her direction, yet again. Matt raised his cup. “I honestly have no idea.”
Something between mischief and sympathy flashed in her eyes. “Very descriptive. I understand completely. Make yourself at home.”
She got on her knees and picked up squares of fabric one at a time, laying them on top of each other carefully.
“You’re not going to call the men in white to throw me into the funny farm?”
She didn’t stop working. “Nope, since I don’t feel like occupying the padded cell next to you. It’s not benevolence, Matt, it’s self-preservation.”
Matt watched her for a while longer. The sensation of loneliness blasted in harder than the icy-cold wind still sweeping the prairie fields to the west of them.
“Can I help you?” he asked again. “That looks interesting.”
Hope checked him over carefully for a moment before her smile lit her face. “If you want. Pick a solid, drop on a square of batting, then layer on any patterned fabric you like. Keep repeating until you have twenty sets in the pile. We’ll stack them on the table for now. Later I’ll chain-stitch them together for the start of the top.”
Matt put aside his cup and joined her on the floor. It was awkward at first, bumping her with his elbows as he reached for different colours. Music played quietly in the background, something with bagpipes, and he smiled, but didn’t say anything.
The silence stretched out, but it was comfortable, not awkward. Matt stood to carry his fourth pile to the table when the buzzer on the stove went off. “You want me to take care of that?”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “There’s nothing in the oven. It’s a timer to remind me to stop what I’m doing and have some supper. I tend to forget otherwise.”
Matt nodded. “Can I help make something?”
Hope shook her head. “Freezer meal, ready to nuke. You want one?”
“Actually? I’m still full from lunch. Jaxi and Beth were trying to outdo my mom in the kitchen.” He stopped. It hit him. “My God, Hope. I’m sorry. It’s Christmas. You could have come over…”
He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. Suggesting she should have joined them was completely wrong, and yet completely right.
She saved him, patting his cheek almost playfully as she passed him en route to the fridge.
“You can stop being embarrassed by my lack of family, okay? Mom left years ago, Dad is gone. I have no idea where my sister is…but it’s okay. I’m living here because I like Rocky. And the shop is doing well.” She paused then wrinkled her nose. “Well enough, at least.”
He nodded in sympathy. “First years are the hardest, I hear.”
The microwave was warming her food before she turned back to face him. “So really, it’s okay. Now, you want another drink? Or do you want to get back to the family? It’s been nice to have your company, but I don’t think you want to watch me eat.”
Matt glanced at the table, covered with piles of organized material. “You eating in the living room?”
“Planned on it, and watching The Sound of Music. Tradition, you know.”
The microwave pinged, but he caught her wrist before she could open it. “Hope, why did you let me help you with the quilt without arguing with me?”
She leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her as she looked him up and down. A slow smile snuck out and she laughed. “Because you were honestly interested. And I’m never going to say no if you really want to do something. I don’t like charity, Matt, but I have no problem with a friend giving me a hand because they want to.”
Something in her logic hit him hard enough his knees nearly buckled. His heart pounded as if he’d just run a gold-medal sprint, and the satisfaction filling him reminded him of the sheer excitement of Christmas morning when he was young.
Delight, unexpected but fresh and new in how it arrived.
Heading back to the house was impossible. Not because there was anything there he wanted to avoid, but because there was something here he didn’t want to leave.
Even if he wasn’t sure what it was, other than a…friend.
He cleared his throat. “Then, if I ask if I can stay and watch the movie with you, because I’d really like to just hang out with you for a while longer, what would you say?”
Hope didn’t hesitate. She pointed to the fridge. “If that’s what you’d like to do, and why you’d like to do it, then I’d say, ‘Could you pour me a glass of iced tea and bring it with you when you come to the living room?’ Because my hands are full.”
Hope kept her eyes glued to the television, snuggled into the couch a little deeper and fought an epic battle. Hypocrisy didn’t feel good, no matter who delivered it. She’d promised herself Matt was off the serving shelf. But the sensation stealing over her as she sat next to him and watched singing goatherds for what had to be the millionth time in her life—well, she liked Christopher Plummer plenty, but it wasn’t the sight of him on the screen making her heart race.
And she was not going to muck this up. Hurting Matt? God, she’d cut off her own arm before letting that happen. He obviously wanted to spend time with her. Wasn’t his fault he couldn’t possibly want it to be for the same reason that teased her on a daily basis.
Not to mention during the nights.
Matt stretched and yawned, his left arm slipping farther into the space she’d mentally tagged “hers”. The safe-zone line had been crossed—that was her cue to bounce up and go for more drinks. Or popcorn, or…or something.
“Okay if I pause it?” Matt waved the remote control.
She grinned as she hit her feet. “No problem.”
He smiled back suspiciously. “What’s that look for?”
“I just want to point out you took all of fifteen minutes to assume ownership of that thing.”
“I’m a guy, it’s genetically built into us to cling to the controls.”
Hope laughed as she grabbed their empty glasses. “I’ve heard that. I’ve also heard shock therapy can help deal with it.”
Matt headed down the hall toward the washroom. She watched, enjoying seeing his ass flex before mentally slapping some sense into herself.
It wasn’t going to work, but maybe if she kept telling the lies they’d become true.
She had both hands full when the phone rang a couple minutes later.
“You want me to get that?” Matt called.
“Please.” It was probably her friend Donna making a post-eggnog holiday shout-out.
Hope finished topping up their glasses and turned, nearly tipping both full loads over his broad chest, he stood so close behind her. “Shit, warn a girl, will you?”
“It’s for you.” He held out the phone like it was a snake. “I gotta go.”