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“No need to do it on my account,” he quipped before he thought.
“I still think I should get dressed.” Laurel returned to the bathroom. She came out wearing a silky-looking shirt that wouldn’t keep her warm, her jeans, and his socks. She went to the fire and picked up one of her boots and examined it. “Well, these are ruined.”
He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, she sounded so sad. “I’m not surprised having worn them in the snow.”
“I know I got what I deserved. They weren’t appropriate for the weather, I get that. But you have to take some blame. If I had slowed down long enough to buy other boots, you would’ve disappeared on me.”
He chuckled. A rusty sound since it had been so long since he’d done it. “Interesting way of looking at it. I’m really sorry about your boots.”
“Me too. They were my favorites.” She dropped the boot to the floor.
He turned back to his cooking. “Maybe you can buy another pair.”
“I doubt that. Remember I’m out of a job.”
“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding a job.” He looked over his shoulder.
Her gaze met his. “I think there was a compliment in there somewhere.”
He grinned. “Maybe a small one.”
She started toward him. “Can I help with something?”
“No. I’m almost done. Take a seat at the table.”
Laurel did as she was told. “Will you be staying here for Christmas?”
“Yes. Why?”
She fingered a scar on the table. “You’re not going to see your family?”
“No.”
“You shouldn’t be alone on a holiday. I think it’s sad that you wanna be by yourself at Christmas.” She watched him long enough to make him uneasy.
“Doesn’t matter if you do or not.” His tone sounded hard. His mother had begged him to come home for Christmas. He’d refused. All that attention he cared nothing about. Having people look at him with sad faces was better left not experienced. Some of that old toughness that had been eased with last night’s conversation had returned. He sat a plate of food in front of her with a thump. “Breakfast is served.”
Brandon went after the other chair. Moving it, he saw a small green book on the floor. He picked it up. “We missed something last night.” He handed it to Laurel then took his seat at the table.
“I’m glad you found this. It’s not mine. I picked it up at the Inn. It’s a funny little book. It’s a love story with notes in the margins from readers who had the book at Christmas and found their own true love. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
He huffed. “That’s the book. I have heard of it. It’s a local legend. I heard of women coming to town just to see if they can get a hold of it. I’m not a believer in that sort of stuff.”
Laurel took the book from him. “I’m not surprised.”
His brows rose.
“I don’t put any stock in it either. So, you’re safe.”
“Good to know.”
She held up the book. “It does make for interesting reading.”
He scoffed.
“So you came here to hide out.” Laurel filled her fork with eggs.
“Something like that.” He refused to look at her for fear of her seeing more than she should.
