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“Oh no.” Abigail dropped her head to the steering wheel. The vehicle was moody under the best of circumstances, but this was the worst possible time for it to break down.
As she tried again, Hayes opened her door.
But of course, nothing changed.
“Let me give you a ride.”
“I could call an Uber.”
“You could.” Without arguing, he waited for her to sort through her options.
Raven would reimburse the cost of the ride. On the other hand, Abigail really wanted to go home now.
With a sigh, she yanked out the useless key and accepted the hand he offered.
In less than a minute, he’d transferred her items to his vehicle, helped her back inside the passenger compartment, and pulled onto the road.
“Where to?”
She gave him the address, and he gave the SUV instruction to drive there.
“Not too far.”
“It’s small, but something I can afford on my salary.”
Hayes selected a jazz station from a streaming service and turned the volume on low.
“No more Christmas music?”
In the darkness, illuminated only by streetlamps, he looked at her. “My ears are still ringing from the club.”
“Same.” She tipped her head back and relaxed. Such a different experience from making the trip in the van.
Which reminded her… She sent Raven a quick update, and reassured her everything was fine.
When Hayes turned into Abigail’s apartment complex, she instructed him where to go. “You can just drop me in front.” She worried her lower lip before exhaling. “Unless you would like to come up? I have Mexican hot chocolate. And a selection of things to spike it with. Tequila, rum, brandy, bourbon, depending on your choice.”
“You had me at bourbon. Where should I park?”
Unable to believe he’d accepted the offer, her heart stopped. Was it too late to rescind the invitation?
Her home was tiny, and he would dwarf it. “You know, my place won’t be what you’re accustomed to.”
“Are you calling me a snob?”
“No!”Just a million- or bazillionaire.
“I appreciate the invitation.”
After climbing the stairs to the third floor, she unlocked the door and saw the space through his eyes.
The kitchen island was stacked with cards and gifts from her preschool students. Her small tree had branches that dipped beneath the weight of far too many ornaments. A dozen pillows, all with holiday scenes, adorned the couch and chair. Her snuggly throw had a picture of a snowman.
The scent of balsam and fir lingered in the air from her wax melts.
He closed the door behind him and followed her inside to place her belongings on her table. But first he had to move aside wrapping paper and scissors along with the pile of presents she’d purchased for her friends.
“I love it.”
