“Put your feet up if you like. Your boots can’t hurt the footstool more than my boy has.” His eyes filled with questions, immediately lifting to meet hers. She watched as his gaze cut to a picture of her standing next to Kitt, then back to her.
“Be right back,” she said, ignoring those unspoken questions for now. For now? That implies there’s a later, woman. Her inward scoff was thick with sarcasm and she winced a little. He’s nice, polite, good-looking, a great dancer, eloquent, a good listener, likes vinyl, and rides a motorcycle. Of course there won’t be a later. Man like him? Taken. Always. He simply hasn’t mentioned his woman’s name yet. She stood in the kitchen for a minute, then another, waiting on the flush in her cheeks to subside, the empty ache from earlier in the evening again settling in her chest.
“He’s the new neighbor, and we happen to know people in common. Be nice, Savannah.” He’ll finish eating and then be gone…and why does that thought make me wanna cry?
Back in the living room, she was reaching out to place a bottle of water on a coaster next to his plate when his hand captured hers, holding her in place. “Vanna, relax, honey. If I’m making you nervous, I can go. I’ve been here for hours, darlin’.” He gestured to his plate, “You’ve fed me, entertained me. Kept me company. Interested me, way more than you know. Made me feel more at home than I’ve felt for years. You’ve been more than hospitable, and while I’ve enjoyed our conversation and time together immensely, it would be a poor return if I overstayed my welcome. You say the word, darlin’, I’m outta your hair.”
“No, Truck. You’re fine. I’ve had a wonderful evening as well. Glad I was still awake and able to help out.” Tugging her hand loose, she stepped back, nearly tripping over the ottoman. “Since we’re new neighbors and all.”
His eyes flared, gaze trapping her for a moment and then in a flat tone slowly said, “Yeah, new neighbors.”
She had barely regained her seat when footsteps sounded overhead. A groan escaped her throat before she could suppress it. Crap, Kitt’s up. She whipped her head sideways to see it was nearly three o’clock in the morning—we’ve been talking for four hours?— then whipped just as fast the other direction, grimacing at the still uneaten cookies plated next to the half-glass of milk. Normally nibbling on the cookies was the last thing she did before heading to bed on Christmas Eve, helping feed Kitt’s belief for another year, but she hadn’t gotten to bed yet tonight. Now, Kitt was up and she knew he would be on a mission to see if Santa had come. Crap.
“Hand them to me.” The order was spoken in a low tone, similar to the do-not-ignore-me voice she used with Kitt, and got the same instant reaction from her that it would from Kitt. Barely a second passed before she scooped up the plate and glass, passing them to Truck without argument.
Kitt’s footsteps slowed when he hit the stairs, probably confused by the number of lights still brightly shining on the main floor. “Mom?” The voice sounded more than a little frightened, and the question in the form of her name repeated before she could respond. “Mom?”
“Here, honey,” she called, and then told him, “I’m not alone. It’s okay. I have a friend in the living room with me.” It wouldn’t do for him to be startled at seeing a stranger in their house in the middle of the night. He would still be startled, but at least he had some advance warning this way. “I’m in here.”
Standing between Truck and the entryway, she looked over her shoulder at where he was seated on the couch. Her glance just in time to see him place three pieces of cookie back on the plate, a large bite taken from each one. As she watched he upended the glass of milk which she knew had to be warm by now, chugging down a little more than half. Then he reached out and put the glass and plate on the table next to where he sat, smiling up at her. “You’ve got a little,” she motioned to her upper lip and his smile changed to a broad grin as he reached up to wipe the milk from his mustache. “Got it,” she whispered, turning back to see Kitt standing in the dining room, looking past her at Truck with an expression she couldn’t place.
“MOM!” His shout was loud and both hands lifted shoulder high, elbows bent, tucked tight to his side. “VANNA MOM!” He danced from foot to foot, mouth open in a huge ‘O’, hands flapping madly in the air. This could be either extreme excitement…or fear.
“Right here, honey. I’m right here.” Unsure of what his reaction meant, she stayed focused on him even when the shadows moving in the room indicated Truck had climbed to his feet. Kitt’s gaze tracked up and up over her shoulder, and then his face split in half in what was the absolutely widest smile she had ever seen from him.
“SANTA!”
“Oh, shit,” Truck muttered, and her thoughts echoed his words.
Oh, crap.