He leaned against the railing, testing his weight against it. “You need to eat. I need to eat.” He glanced at her basketball-size belly. “The baby needs for you to eat. And there’s something else you can keep me from.”
She rested her hand on top of her stomach. “What’s that?”
“You can keep me from another Friday night of eating alone.” He grinned at her. “Dinner will give us a chance to catch up.”
“Long time no see?”
“Our Christmas reunion. A lot has happened since we last saw each other.”
“No kidding.” Her gaze fell to the wooden steps. “I’m sorry about your dad, Ryan.” She dropped her hand to her side. “Mateo was going through chemo and...”
“We lost touch. No problem. Dinner?”
Her lashes feathered her skin. “I never could say no to you.”
Which wasn’t how he remembered high school. Though more often than not, he hadn’t given her a chance to say no. He’d been too scared to ask Anna to prom. He reckoned it best to be content being best friends.
He made sure she locked the door. Another item on his To-Do list. Wouldn’t take much effort to break the lock on the wobbly doorknob. He’d feel better knowing Anna was safe at night out here alone. Ryan offered his arm as she descended the steps.
Instead, she gripped the bannister. “I got it. Thanks for making the railing sturdier.”
He stationed himself at ground level in case she needed him. Not that Anna Pruitt had ever needed him. He’d been the one who foolishly hoped their friendship might blossom into something more. “How ’bout Tammy and Johnny’s for burgers and fries?”
“Boot?” Her lips curved. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard me some Shore talk.”
He rolled his tongue in his cheek. “Which simply means it’s been too long since you’ve been graced by our unique Tidewater dialect.”
She smiled as she crossed the oyster-shelled driveway to his car. “Dutch treat.”
He opened the passenger door. “I’m not going to argue with you about dinner. It’s my treat.”
“That doesn’t seem fair considering how much you’ve already helped me.”
He kept the door between them. “I insist. For old times’ sake.”
“Old times.” She backed into the seat. “Just let me stuff my beached whale self inside your car.” She swung her legs inside last.
He tucked her red wool coat out of the way of the door. “You look beautiful.”
It was true. She’d been a lovely girl. Pregnant, she glowed with a womanly luminescence.
She twisted at an awkward angle, reaching for the seat belt. “You’re being kind.”
“Let me.” Leaning over her, he clicked the seat belt in position. Unconsciously, he inhaled her scent. A delicious blend of vanilla, cloves and cinnamon. Like Christmas. So like the Anna he remembered.
The air suddenly felt close. Rising abruptly, he banged his head on the roof. “Ow.”
She took a ragged breath. “Are you okay?”
Grunting, he extricated himself and rubbed the top of his scalp. Rounding the hood, he slipped into the driver seat and concentrated on pulling out of her badly rutted driveway. He planned to give Charlie a call tonight. Between the two of them, they’d soon sort a few issues with her landlord.
She shifted in the seat. “How long was your father sick?”
“Mom called us home after his stroke four years ago. At rehab, Dad suffered another stroke two months later and died.”
“Why did you stay?”
He negotiated a bend in the road. “The bills had piled up. The business was in danger of going under. With Mom working at the high school, someone had to keep the business afloat. We all helped with the garden center and farm.”
She placed her palm atop her abdomen. “The Savage siblings rallied.” Her eyes flitted to his. “I’ve always loved how supportive y’all are to each other.”
“Y’all.” His lips twitched. “Glad to see you can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl.” He bypassed the turnoff for Kiptohanock.
She swatted his arm. Like old times.
He grinned. “Luke does the actual horticultural work. Justine gave up her art gallery to run the garden center. But Ethan had to finish his enlistment first. Once Tess completed her degree, she came home, too.”
“My mother tells me you gave up your career.”
He swallowed, touched that she’d gone to the trouble of keeping track of him over the years. “Once a science geek, always a science geek.”
“You were never a geek, Mr. Track Star. In fact, you were always too cool for school.” She patted the dashboard. “You’re still rocking the laid-back vibe.” A smile played across her lips.
He arched his eyebrow. “’Cause it doesn’t get cooler than a Saab?”
She laughed and pointed at the radio. “Harry Connick or Sinatra?”
Ryan smiled. “Probably their holiday CDs. As I recall, you start celebrating in October.”
“Not anymore.” She sighed. “Since Mateo died, Christmas is something to just get through.”
Pulling off the highway, he steered into the crowded roadside hangout. It pained him to hear her talk like that. “You have so much to look forward to. And next year will be the baby’s first Christmas.”
Her expression closed. “Did you see Oscar’s face when he mentioned Christmas?”
Ryan took the hint. Talk of the future made Anna uneasy. “Until Zander shot him down like an eight-year-old Grinch.”
“When I think back to the wonderful childhood memories I have, it hurts my heart to imagine what Christmas has been like for those kids.”
He turned off the engine. “After we eat, I could use your help on making this Christmas a happy one for them. But we’ll have to hurry to implement Phase One of Operation Christmas.”
* * *
Operation Christmas?
Perhaps Ryan was on to something. She could think of no one she’d rather see happy than those children. Spending time with the handsome teacher would be a plus.
Inside, he wouldn’t allow her to pay for her meal. “Pick a seat.” He motioned. “I’ll wait for the food.”
Not drifting far, she’d no sooner chosen a seat than two children ran over to him. Max and Izzie, two of his fifth graders.
“Are you coming tonight, Mr. Savage?”
“You gotta come, Mr. Savage.”
He grinned at them. “Since you’ve known me, have I ever missed the flotilla parade?”
Was that tonight? Anna would eat fast so as not to keep him from other commitments. The children rejoined a group of adults and younger children. Caroline and Amelia Duer. Their mother and Ryan’s father had been siblings. The sisters and Ryan were first cousins.
She was less pleased by the other women, who, one by one, sidled over to the bachelor teacher. With his lanky build and the swimming-pool eyes behind the frames, he was not merely popular with children.
No surprise, he remained a chick magnet. There was something irresistible about a man so not interested in becoming attached.
On