The Heart of Christmas. Brenda Novak

little else all evening.

      Her phone pinged, signaling an incoming text message.

      

      

      So much for your big birthday bash.

      

      

      It was from Baxter. She’d texted him to thank him for the earrings he’d given her.

      It’s fine, she wrote. We’re all getting older. Our lives are changing.

      Screw that! The others can get old without us, he responded. Come stay with me next weekend. I’ll show you a good time.

      He said that as if his life hadn’t changed, too, but he had a partner these days, and Eve got the impression that Scott wasn’t particularly interested in Baxter’s “old” friends. Bax had built a separate life in the city. But as sad as Eve was to lose so much of his time and focus, she was happy for him. He’d struggled to get over Noah, who didn’t have the slightest gay tendency and was now married to Addy. Eve hoped that with Scott, Baxter had found someone who could return his interest on all levels.

      Weekends are hard during the holidays, she wrote. The B and B gets busy. But I’ll see you when you’re home for Christmas. I like Scott, by the way. You did well.

      

      

      Scott likes you, too.

      

      

      “Sure he does,” she grumbled. He’d barely acknowledged any of them....

      A second text came immediately, and it sounded as if Bax was signing off, so she didn’t text him back. Happy birthday! it read. And call me if you need anything, even if it’s just to bitch about life.

      She smiled at her phone. He’d clued in to how she was feeling, but she was pretty sure she’d fooled everyone else.

      The limo driver put the transmission in Park and came around to open her door.

      Her friends had tipped him when they got out—they said they didn’t want her paying for anything—so she merely thanked him and sighed as she watched him pull away. She was about to remove her high heels so she wouldn’t twist an ankle on the gravel drive when she noticed a Land Rover parked beside her parents’ RV.

      “Whose is that?” No one she knew owned a Land Rover.

      She’d worn only a light sweater to the Bay Area because it looked better with her dress than her big wool coat. She regretted that decision now that it was wet and cold, but she was too curious to let the weather drive her inside quite so soon. This Land Rover didn’t belong at her house....

      She was making her way over when the driver’s-side door opened. Brent Taylor got out, but he didn’t come toward her. He didn’t even step away from the vehicle so he could close the door. He simply stood there, waiting to see if he’d be welcomed.

      “What...what are you doing here?” she asked in surprise.

      “I wish I knew exactly,” he replied.

      “You must have some idea.”

      He didn’t respond; he just gave her a look that said it should be obvious.

      “You’re back for more....”

      “Why not? We both enjoyed last night.”

      “You were drunk. We both were. And I thought you didn’t want to see me again, that you wanted what happened between us to be over. You grabbed your clothes and ran out of my house this morning as if I might try to tie you to the bed.”

      “I know. I did want it to be over.”

      She thought he should be a little more contrite and embarrassed after making it so clear that he didn’t want her contacting him. This guy didn’t do contrite or embarrassed, though. He was far too bold for that. “But...” she prompted.

      He rested one arm on the door and the other on the top of his vehicle. “I can’t quit thinking about you.”

      She took off her shoes. The rocks cut into the bottoms of her feet, but at least she wouldn’t trip and fall. “We’re already worried about a possible pregnancy.”

      “I’m prepared this time.”

      “So...you want to be with me. You just don’t want it to mean anything.”

      He glanced away and rubbed his forehead. “I won’t be around for long.”

      No strings attached. He’d said that earlier. Would she never meet a man who was willing to fall in love?

      The same old disappointment welled up, making her want to tell him what she thought of the meaningless encounters he seemed to prefer. But she didn’t have any right to judge him. She was the one who’d started this by bringing him home last night. They were different people who wanted different things. In any event, she was determined to continue to be polite. “Thanks for going to the trouble of coming all the way out here. I can see why you would. I probably sounded like a desperate fool last night when I was telling you about my birthday and...all of that. But there are other women who can give you what you’re looking for, and I think you’ll have a much better time.”