“How did you meet?”
“He’s staying at the Dupont while his apartment is being renovated.”
She cups my cheek in her hand, her gaze warm. “You’re not just a hotel maid, sweetie. You’re Miranda Carr, a beautiful, smart and talented woman.”
“You sound like him.”
She arches her brows. “He tells you you’re beautiful, smart and talented?”
“And tenacious. And stubborn. Oh, and funny.”
“All true. I like him.”
I sigh softly. “Me, too. But he doesn’t speak to his parents. He’s alone at the Dupont today, and he didn’t want to come here with me when I invited him.”
“Maybe it’s too soon.”
“Maybe.”
She leans a hip against the kitchen counter. “Why doesn’t he speak to his parents?”
“I don’t know. But it has something to do with the death of his younger brother four years ago.”
“Oh no. How sad.”
“I know.”
She pats my upper arm. “Give it time, Miranda. And let him know you’re there when he’s ready.”
“But what happens when he moves out of the Dupont? We hardly have any free time to spend together.”
“Does he prioritize you with the free time he does have?”
I look down at the floor. “Yes. He studies with me if that’s the reason I can’t go out.”
“That’s a man who’s really interested in you.” At the sound of a voice approaching the kitchen, she says, “I’ll send a plate of food with you for him. Then he’ll at least know he was thought about today.”
“I need pie,” Paige says as she walks into the kitchen.
Grandma Maryanne isn’t far behind her. Soon the kitchen is full of relatives laughing, scraping plates into the trash and eating pie.
After the cleanup is done, we have our annual Pictionary tournament, followed by the decorating of my parents’ Christmas tree. This is the kind of family gathering I always imagined hosting myself one day. Cozy and casual. With a steady, good-hearted man by my side.
But those aren’t the words that come to mind when I think of Jake. He’s sexy, mysterious and sweet but sometimes angry and unapproachable.
It’s crazy for me to be considering any sort of family life with Jake Birch. I’ve only known him for six weeks. And seriously, like Chicago’s star hockey player is going to have a committed relationship with his hotel maid?
I take the plate my mom offers me and sit down at the kitchen table to mull my situation over a piece of pecan pie. Homemade pie is my alcohol—it makes all my problems fade to the background.
By evening, I’m still feeling unsettled. Even though I’m busy with my family, Jake is still on my mind. I know I’ll feel this way until we resolve things. I put on my coat and hat and go out to the front porch to sit on the swing. It was always my favorite spot to be alone when I lived at home.
I sit down and hear the familiar creak of the chains the swing is hanging from. My exhale makes a cloud in front of my face and as it clears, I see a man standing on the sidewalk facing the house. Squinting in the moonlight, I see that he’s well-built and his hands are buried in the pockets of a long, dark wool coat. My heart pounds furiously.
“Jake?”
I get up from the swing and as I walk toward him, he comes toward me, too.
“Hey,” he says when we’re just a few feet apart on the sidewalk leading to my parents’ front door. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
He shrugs. “It was kind of an impulse thing.”
His boyish smile warms my heart.
“You drove four hours on impulse?”
“Not exactly. My agent Cal’s husband is a pilot. I asked him to take me for a spin.”
“A spin, huh?”
He takes his hands out of his pocket and wraps his arms around me. “I thought I’d come by and meet your family. If you still want me to.”
“I do.”
He looks at my parents’ modest home, his brow furrowed nervously. “I have to be back at the airport in an hour. I don’t want anyone to think I’m an asshole for coming late and leaving so fast.”
“Stop it. My family’s not like that.” I hook my arm through his and we walk toward the house.
As soon as we walk through the front door, the crowded living room falls silent and everyone turns to look at us.
“Jake came by for a bit,” I say.
“Jake Birch!” my uncle Jerry cries. “That right there is the best center in the NHL! How do you know him, Miranda?”
He bounds over to shake Jake’s hand.
“We’re, uh…sort of dating,” I say.
Grandma Sandy gasps dramatically. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I just did.”
She gives me an admonishing look. “This is a big improvement, Miranda. He’s so much more handsome than that Randy fellow with the…hair.” She winces and waves her hands around her own hair.
“Grandma, that was in high school.”
“Jake, we’re so glad you’re here,” my mom says, hugging him.
He stiffens uncomfortably and I immediately feel protective of him. Mom doesn’t seem to notice.
“Can I take your coat?” she asks him.
“Yes, ma’am.” He takes off his overcoat and I smile as I see he’s wearing khakis, a dress shirt and a tie. “Guess I’m a bit overdressed.”
“Not at all,” my mom says. “Have you eaten? Can I make you a plate?”
“Thanks, but I already ate.”
“Did you eat at Cal’s?” I ask, leading him toward the kitchen, where I hope we can have a little more privacy.
“Yeah. He’s kind of a gourmet. And he wants to meet you.”
We sit down at the kitchen table to talk. The food has all been moved in here, though, and my family members keep sneaking in to snoop under the pretense of eating.
“So you grew up here?” Jake asks me, looking around.
I nod, wondering what our home looks like to him. Does it seem shabby? I don’t know how he grew up, and I’m curious.
“What were you like as a kid?” he asks.
“She was a handful,” my grandma answers. “Had an opinion on everything, our little Miranda. And she always wore her hair in those cute little pigtails.”