“Do you make your own maple syrup?” I asked.
Jack beamed at me. “We used to, but it became too hard to keep up when we expanded. We buy most of what we use here from Morse Farm down the road. Has Miles taken you there yet? You can walk all through their trees and see the whole process. ‘Course now, everything is covered in snow, but you can still tour the place and try some samples. Make sure Miles buys you a maple creme.”
I smiled. Growing up in New Hampshire, I wasn’t ignorant of the process of making maple syrup, but for some reason, I had always found the maple farms fascinating. “It sounds amazing.”
Miles looked over at me, eyebrows raised. “It’s a date.”
I swallowed and looked down at my now dwindling bowl. Miles reached across the table, his arm brushing mine for a second while he added more crushed cookies to his ice cream. Tentatively, I waited for him to put the spoon back before adding a few to my own bowl.
“So, Miles told us a little about how you two met, but how did it officially happen?” Sandy asked me, beaming.
The smile on my face froze as I glanced at Miles. He raised his eyebrows at me and nodded toward his parents as if to say, Go right ahead and tell the story, Celery Stick.
Crazy how well I seemed to know his smirks and pointed smiles.
“Well, he finally just wore me down,” I said with a shrug, giving him a teasing smile. “He kept asking and asking.”
Miles’s eyes narrowed at me, though he smiled good naturedly. “Can you blame me?” he said to his parents.
“What do you like about Miles?”
I stared at Sandy, trying to keep the horror off my face. Who asks a question like that?
As if she could sense my discomfort, she smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry if that’s a weird question, but I love hearing the good stuff. The stuff that pulls two people together.”
“We’re only dating, Mom. It’s pretty new,” Miles said, adjusting in his seat.
She blanched a bit, and her face began to turn red. “I know. I’m sorry, don’t answer that question if I’m pushing you too far. I just…it’s so fun to have Miles bring a girl home.”
Bringing me home was a bit of a stretch, being that I was the one who created the whole mess. I laughed softly and took another bite of ice cream, expecting the conversation to move on, but when I looked up, I met Sandy’s hopeful eyes again, and my heart dropped. I couldn’t bear to not answer this question for her.
I swallowed my bite, made even more delicious with the addition of cookie pieces, and said generously, “There are lots of things to love about Miles.”
The man in question reared back in his chair slightly before turning to look at me. Probably surprised by my statement. Heck, I was surprised by my statement.
“Really?” Miles said, leaning in close and putting an arm around the back of my chair. “Do tell.”
There were warring emotions inside of me as I looked into the earnest and sweet face of Sandy Taylor. I should play this straight. Search deep into the creativity of my brain and come up with something I could say about her son. But the amused anticipation vibrating from the man at my left also triggered my snarky side. The side that desperately wanted nothing more than to put him in his place. My mouth opened…
“Well, he’s an…author. And I love books, so…”
Sandy’s face fell before good manners schooled her lips back into a smile.
“Yes, we love that about him, too. He was always so creative, even as a child. He used to get all his friends in the neighborhood, and they’d play in the treehouse for hours, making up plays and having pretend sword fights. It’s no wonder he writes such fun adventure books.”
I stole a glance at Miles, satisfied to see a ruddiness on his cheeks. He looked at me and glared slightly, as though he were embarrassed.
A satisfied smile lit my face. My kind words caused him to be embarrassed. That might be better than snarky.
“He’s also loved by all the staff and kids at the high school. He even won an award for being the coolest teacher. The kids really adore him.” I started off strong, bent on rubbing the ridiculousness of his award in his face, but by the time I got to the last statement, my voice took on a softer tone. Truth rang from my lips. The kids really did love him and…I’m not sure why that just barely hit me. Of course they loved him. He was cool and fun and taught them things in interesting ways. My mind was racing, and my mouth would not stop. “He brings donuts after school every Friday and I always hear him talking with the kids in the hallway. He has a way of making them feel special and he remembers personal things about each of them. The Friday donuts have been really…good…for some of our students.”
I trailed off, meeting his eyes with a furrowed brow as a small puzzle began to be put into place.
Jack smiled proudly. “He’s always had a soft heart. We used to find him feeding all kinds of stray animals. He’d bring them home and try to take care of them. Can’t stand the thought of anybody going hungry.”
I blinked. Why had I never put those two ideas together? I hadn’t realized they correlated until I began speaking. I just thought he’d been trying to buy the students’ love so they’d want to be in his classroom rather than mine. But…sudden memories of a faculty meeting where we had been discussing the kids we knew weren’t getting enough to eat on the weekends came to mind. There had been several ideas thrown out to help, but to my knowledge, nothing concrete had ever been done. Was this Miles’s way of helping to feed the kids who might not have enough food? And why hadn’t I ever thought of it like that?
I looked at him again, but this time, he was staring down at the table, brushing away a crumb. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. Looking toward his parents, he said, “That’s enough. Should we play a game? Rummy? Thirteen?”
“First, I want to hear what you like about Olive. It’s only fair,” Sandy said, her blue eyes twinkling.
Honestly, I was starting to feel a bit sick, probably due to the half gallon of ice cream swimming down there, but still, we had to put a stop to this.
“There are too many things to name,” Miles said, smiling easier now that the attention was off him. I relaxed when it seemed like he was going to play it off with a general statement. That is, until I felt his hand clamor up the back of my neck, giving it a light squeeze. Then, he kept massaging—slow, torturous touching that broke my body out into chills. Was there some sort of fake dating class Miles had taken? The touching and sweet glances, they came so naturally to him. It was disconcerting.
“She’s hilarious,” he said.
I huffed out a snort. Surely he wasn’t serious. He found it hilarious to make fun of me, but that didn’t mean that I was funny.