Or just a pretty blonde?
“Um, okay, sorry about that,” Jason said.
“Does she know about me? I mean, how we’re … whatever we are.”
“She knows everything that happens in my life. So yeah.”
Mauve didn’t know how she felt about that. On one hand, it was nice that he’d obviously talked about her. On the other, their closeness brought up all kinds of issues for her. Trust issues. Insecurity issues. All the issues.
“How nice for her,” Mauve said.
“Whoa, we’re just friends,” Jason said. “We grew close working on the show together. But totally platonic, despite the tabloid fodder.”
“Yes, I know. I met her, remember?”
“She loved you,” Jason said.
They were just friends for now. But once he went back to his real life, who knew what might develop? People who spent a lot of time together at work often turned into something else. Just look at Chris and the woman he’d cheated on her with. They’d worked together too.
“Why did she ask if you’d kissed a cow?” Mauve asked, keeping her voice light.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s a running joke on set that I grew up kissing cows in Vermont instead of girls. I don’t even know how it started. They’re all a bunch of idiots.”
“It’s cute, actually,” Mauve said.
The headlights swept past a stretch of dark fields and a stand of bare trees. A minute later he turned down the long drive that led to the Hayes farmhouse. Lanterns with small lights inside were set in the snow along both sides of the drive, running all the way to the farmhouse. Beyond, in the distance, the windows of Grace and Walter’s house glowed amber in the dark.
“What is this?” Mauve asked, sitting forward, so delighted she forgot to be anxious and insecure.
“My uncle and aunt are trying something new to get people out to the farm during the off-season. Sleigh rides out to a gourmet picnic at the sugar shack. We’re their guinea pigs.”
“Oh my goodness, this is amazing,” Mauve said.
He parked near the porch. Grace was standing in the open doorway with a quilted shawl wrapped around her shoulders and her hands clasped in front of her, beaming at them. She lifted one hand in a little wave.
“Aunt Grace is super excited about this,” Jason said, chuckling. “Which is adorable.”
He came around to her side, opened her door, and helped her down. Grace was already moving toward them, arms out, and pulled Mauve into a hug that smelled like cinnamon.
“I’m so glad you’re here to give us feedback on the experience,” Grace said. “I can’t think of a better couple to try out our new offering.”
Couple. If only that were true.
“And my generous nephew offered to post about it on his social,” Grace said. “I’m expecting a lot more guests afterwards.”
“I’m happy to help, Aunt Grace. Think of it as thanks for always taking such good care of us when we were kids.”
“It was my pleasure to help raise you two hooligans,” Grace said. “Your mother and I had such fun with all of you when you were little. I miss her every day.”
“Thanks for telling me that,” Jason said, his voice gruff. “It’s nice to hear you talk about her.”
“Anytime you want to talk about her or anything else, I’m here,” Grace said. “But for now, take your beautiful date out to the sleigh. Dinners waiting in the hut. We have Hank to drive the sleigh,” Grace said. “They’re round behind the barn. Everything’s ready out there.”
They walked together past the farmhouse and down the cleared path that led toward the barn, their boots crunching on packed snow. The light from the lanterns showing them the way. Somewhere a dog barked once and then went quiet.
“Don’t forget to take photos,” Grace called to them from the porch.
They came around the corner of the bar and there it was. A sleigh. A real, proper, two-horse sleigh, painted dark green with red trim, its runners gleaming in the snow. Two enormous draft horses stood placidly in the harness, their breath rising in white plumes, bells stitched along the reins making soft jingles whenever one of them shifted. An older man in a heavy canvas coat and a wool cap stood by the lead horse’s head, one gloved hand on the bridle. He tipped his cap to Mauve.
