“He doesn’t have any close family. Leastwise, not blood kin. He’s basically my great uncle, in a complicated Southern sort of way.”
“Family you adopted?”
He picked up the next tree and nodded. “He and my grandfather were tight from the time they were knee-high. They stayed close, even after each of them married. Percy and Janie—that’d be his late wife—never had kids, so they sort of adopted my mom and her brothers. The two of them were always in and out of our lives.”
Hannah shook her head at the tree, and he put it back. “It’s nice of you to come visit him. It’s awful when people are alone for the holidays.”
“My visit isn’t entirely altruistic. His health has been declining and my mom’s worried about him. I got sent to check on him because he’s rejected everybody else. Not that I can blame him. At the first mention of assisted living, a guy as independent as Percy digs in his heels. He’s been in that house for forty-five years.”
“So you’re—what?—supposed to talk him into it?”
“I’m supposed to assess whether he really needs it or not.”
“And if he does?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
Throughout the exchange, she stayed way more focused on the task of finding the perfect tree than seemed necessary. He pulled out and put back almost every one in the size category and other than that one, brief glance, she didn’t seem to be able to meet his gaze. After her directness at the diner, the shift in behavior seemed out of character.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“What?” Her voice had that high, bright quality again.
“We’re supposed to be working together on this thing. That means sometime you’re going to have to actually look at me.”
The pink in her cheeks deepened and she sucked in a breath. “Okay, I deserved that.” Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her gaze to his. The earnestness there was almost painful. “I want to apologize for how I treated you at the diner the other day.”
He frowned. Was she remembering something different than he was? “Why? For treating me like a human being with dignity and value?”
She winced. “I thought you were homeless.”
Okay, yeah, he’d gotten that. And he’d been impressed with how she’d handled the situation. “In your defense, I totally looked it that day.”
“Still. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“You assumed I was cold and hungry, and you fed me out of your own pocket. That was a kind thing, and my mama always says you should never apologize for a kindness. Even if you jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
The corner of her mouth twitched in a self-deprecating smile. “Your mom sounds like a wise woman.”
He tried not to fixate on that mouth, but he really wanted to see those dimples again. “She is. She’d also tell me I owe you a thank you for the meal.”
“You thanked me at the diner. And left an exorbitant tip. So thank you.” She gestured to the tree in his hand. “That one’s perfect.”
“I’d like to take you to dinner.” Wait, what were these words falling out of his mouth? He hadn’t planned on asking her out. But how else was he going to get the time to coax out those dimples?
Hannah angled her head and there went the smile. Her dimples winked on like stars. One. Two. “How do you feel about pizza?”
“How do you feel about tonight?”
Chapter 5
“If there is a more perfect food than pizza, I don’t know what it is.” Ryan leaned back in his chair, more relaxed than Hannah had ever seen him, though he still had that watchfulness that told her he’d noticed every single patron and employee of Speakeasy Pizzeria and cataloged their position.
“I would like to submit tacos to that category. But it would be a pretty close race.” She eyed the last slice of pizza. Would eating it make her look like a glutton?
“It’s all yours. I inhaled more than my fair share.”
Taking him at his word, she grabbed it up, wondering if this was supposed to be a date.
He’d come to the house to pick her up, but both Percy and Carolanne lived so close to downtown, they’d walked. It was a work night, and while Hannah didn’t keep quite the God-awful baker’s hours her sister did, she was still on morning shift and had to be up at the butt crack of dawn. She ought to be pajamaficated and getting ready for bed. Instead, she found herself wishing they could draw the evening out just a little longer. Conversation had been surprisingly easy, if not particularly personal. They’d talked movies and books, music and food. When he unbent from that stoicism she’d observed, Ryan Malone was actually pretty charming. She couldn’t decide which one was his natural inclination.
“So how exactly does a waitress get into decorating?”
Oh, so now they were going to actually get to know each other? “It’s more like how does an interior decorator get into waitressing.”
He inclined his head. “Okay. How does an interior decorator get into waitressing?”
To buy herself some time, she bit into the pizza. This wasn’t something she talked about. She’d been in Wishful for more than a year now, and other than Carolanne and Mama Pearl, nobody really knew why she was here. But she wanted to know more about Ryan, and that was probably going to take a little quid pro quo.
“I graduated with my degree in interior design five years ago and ended up taking an internship at one of the best design firms in Atlanta. It was cutthroat and absolutely insane. Imagine The Devil Wears Prada, except not fashion.”
His lips twitched. “I’ll have to take your word on that one.”
“Ruthless, long-hours, no-excuses.”
“I’m familiar with that sort of environment.” Something in his expression told her his version of those things was very, very different.
“Anyway, after a year, I managed to get my foot in the door with the firm, and I spent the next three years, working my way through the ranks, shooting for junior partner.” She flashed a wry smile. “Having no life.”
Ryan shifted forward, leaning toward her. “Something happened.”
She nibbled on more of the pizza, though the memory of what came next killed the last of her appetite. “Fourteen months ago, while I was on my way to work, I had a seizure and lost control of my car. I didn’t actually know that’s what was happening at the time, and I don’t actually remember the accident. It was a miracle I didn’t kill anybody, including myself.”
“Were you injured?”
“Whiplash, a concussion, a broken arm. I had some complications with the arm that could have been so much worse, but I happened to crash right near my office. There was this group of homeless veterans that hung out near the parking garage I used, and I’d see them most days. We were friendly. I’d bring them stuff from time to time, so they knew me, knew my car. When I crashed, they came running. One of them had been a medic in the army and was able to stabilize me until the ambulance arrived. He saved my life.”
Something flickered in his gaze. “So the soup was paying it forward?”