You Had Me At Christmas: A Holiday Anthology (25 page)

The next article was from something called
Information Week.
It had the same general content but with a slightly more techie and less business-related spin, as well as a different picture. The last article was from the
New York Times.
That article was the most detailed, including the sale in a bigger story about mobile security, hacking, and open-source software.

She pushed the two other phones away from her slowly, almost afraid to touch them. “This is a big deal.”

One side of his mouth kicked up in a proud smile. “Yeah.”

“And not just because of the money.”

He shook his head, his smile growing deeper. “The money is nice, but what my buddy and I did was revolutionary. With our competition, you have to have access to a data network to send encrypted texts. Using the actual cell network changes the game completely.” Excitement carried his voice a little louder in the last sentence.

“Why are you running away, then?”

“Running away?” Even though he shook his head, she sensed she’d hit on the truth. “This is my celebratory trip. I’m driving around, seeing the sights, and then I’m going to Snowdance outside of Salt Lake City for a week of skiing. I’ve booked the best condo they had available, private lessons, and a heli-skiing trip. It will be my first vacation in two years. And when I’m done at Snowdance, I’ve got a couple other places booked.”

She shook her head. “People come to northern Idaho to disappear.”

Recognition flickered in his eyes, shuttering the pride on his face. “Maybe that’s what I wanted when I planned the trip. No, not
disappear
. But be out of contact with the world for a while. Not have to see a computer screen or check my phone every five seconds.”

“You’re carrying three phones,” she pointed out with a nod at the electronics on the table. “If you want to sever ties, you need to leave them all behind.”

“No,” he said with a vigorous shake of his head. “I never wanted to sever ties. Put them on hold, maybe, but not sever.”

“You’ve got to leave at least one phone behind if you want to do that,” she said with a raise of her brow.

His chuckle was hollow, more than humor. “Setting my life aside for a couple weeks has been . . .” He paused, and his eyes seemed to search the room for the right word. “It has been strange.”

“What do you keep checking in on?”

Reservations slipped onto his easy, friendly face. “I’ve told you a lot about me. What about you? I want to know about you, too.”

“What about me? I’m a waitress at a diner in a nothing town, taking one course a semester at the local community college until I can get out. For obvious reasons, your life is more exciting.”

“I don’t know about that. What are you studying?”

“This semester? I’m taking an art history class.”

He gestured his head to her. “I mean, in general. What’s your goal?”

The image from her daydream flashed in front of her eyes. She was wearing her fancy black books, a tight black skirt, and black silk top, standing among the colorful artwork of some fabulous new artist that she’d discovered. Then she saw Marc coming in, having passed the gallery and seen her—not the art—in the windows.

She tried to shake the thoughts away. She was too old to have such a silly fantasy, especially since she needed a job that was reliable and paid well. “I’d like to get my nursing degree, but the community college near me doesn’t offer the right classes.” She paused, trying to figure out how to explain it without sounding like an aimless fool. “Right now, I’m taking classes so I can get some core stuff out of the way and electives that will hopefully transfer. One day, I’ll have saved up enough money to be able to move to Spokane and take the rest of the classes I need.”

“That sounds interesting. And makes sense.” His smile was encouraging, and she felt like she was lying to him.

“Not really. I’m kind of treading water. And to be honest, I feel stuck. Spending money on those classes now means I’m not saving up to move and study somewhere I know the credits will help to get me my degree. But I’m afraid that if I don’t take the classes, I’ll lose momentum.”

Sometimes, momentum was the only thing that kept her going forward.

“Are momentum struggles why you were crying?” he asked gently. “I’ve been there before.”

His confidence was as contagious as his smiles, though for different reasons. Not once had Marc looked at her with pity. To Marc, she was the pretty—though sad—waitress he’d picked up in a diner. And man, it was wonderful to be something so simple.

Everyone in town knew that her stepfather was a waste of space and her mother enabled him. Sometimes when Selina walked through the grocery store, the smiles of the people she saw were less friendly and more indulgent. Anger and apprehension would seethe inside her, boiling and growing until she got home where reality would be lying—drunk—on the couch.

It wasn’t enough for Gary to be a drunk. Or to be a letch. Or to be unable to hold a job. But he had to be all three, all at once. Selina had long since stopped trying to figure out why her mom didn’t leave the guy. The
why
didn’t matter as much as the fact that she wouldn’t, and anyway, what did Selina know about long-term relationships and commitment? The only thing she was committed to was getting out of this town and she held tight to that goal, despite the snags life had thrown in her way.
Some day.

“Ya know, it’s a small town, and getting out isn’t easy. Poverty, meth, bad schools—take your pick. There’s a lot to cry about.”

Disappointment darkened his brown eyes. “Come on, now. I mean, it’s your life and you can keep it to yourself if you want. But I did share with you.”

“Is telling you why I was crying my price for dinner?” Thinking about Gary had put her on edge, and it was reflected in the sharpness of her tone. Worry that her instincts had slipped and that Marc was just a nicer, classier version of Gary snaked through her. Maybe with Marc, when he said something didn’t have a price, what he meant was that he hadn’t come up with the price yet.

“God, if you have cause to think that about men, I already know why you were crying.” The disappointment that had been in his eyes colored to anger, though she knew it wasn’t directed at her. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. Tell me what the most interesting thing is that you learned in your art class so far. I want to know that, too.”

For the second time that night, she evaluated how genuine he was. And for the second time that night, he looked her straight in her eyes and let her appraise him. She would have expected a man who built security programs to keep information safe, to be closed off and secretive. And maybe most guys like him were. Maybe Marc normally was, even, but nothing about this interaction was normal.

“My stepfather made a pass at me last night,” she admitted, trying not to let her voice waver. He opened his mouth, and she spoke before he could get any words out. “No, that diminishes me and makes what he did seem smaller. Gary often makes passes at me. He likes my looks and my figure. Sometimes he tests my doorknob to see if it’s locked. What made last night different was that he was the perfect combination of drunk enough to try to knock down my door and not so drunk that he passed out before he could do it. I spent all night driving around town, just so I didn’t have to be at home. And I was crying because I don’t know where to sleep tonight.”

There was the pitying face she’d been hoping to avoid. Though in Marc’s eyes, it was okay. Not great, but bearable. “No friends you can stay with?”

Their conversation paused as the waitress came up to the table and set down their plates. Wood snapped as they both broke their chopsticks apart and the smells of chilies, chicken, and oyster sauce wafted up from the table.

Her belly growled. She’d eaten a small breakfast at Babe’s before the restaurant opened, but otherwise that undrunk cup of coffee was the only thing she’d tried to put in her stomach today.

She poked at her food, picking out a piece of red pepper and setting it on her rice. “I’ve burned through most of my friends’ patience staying with them.” Sauce glistened on the pepper as she examined it and considered her parents. “I think my mom will actually be worried. She ran away when she was young, got pregnant, and here we are.” She dropped the pepper in her mouth.

“You can’t move out?”

“Well, now I
can’t
go back, not after tonight. But—” she shook her head, knowing that she didn’t have any place else to go and so would probably find herself crawling back. Then she swallowed and answered “—Babe barely makes enough to keep that place open, so she can’t pay a lot. Plus, anything I make extra goes to paying for college classes and gas and textbooks. And groceries and rent sometimes, and the electric bill.” She poked at her food. “You didn’t make your escape until you sold your work for millions. I don’t need millions, but I need more than a diner waitress’s salary.”

He looked up from his own plate and met her eyes, his expression serious. “You should come with me.” He blinked in evident surprise. “Yeah,” he went on after a beat. “Come with me.”

A
s soon as
the words were out of Marc’s mouth, he knew it was a good idea. Whatever pleasure he’d gotten driving around the wilds of the Rocky Mountains on his own was long gone now, replaced by nothing but loneliness.

Judging by her narrowed eyes, Selina wasn’t quite as thrilled with the idea. “Come
where
with you?”

A piece of hot pepper sailed through the air as his hands opened up in offering, drawing an arc in the air with his chopsticks. “On my adventures!” He was bouncing up and down on the cushion and couldn’t stop himself. “If you want, I’ll bring you back here after my week skiing at Snowdance is over. Until the first of the year, I don’t have anywhere else I have to be.”

That was a sad truth.

“Even better,” he went on, “maybe you can spend the week I’m skiing looking for a job in Salt Lake. Maybe something that pays better. Maybe a roommate. They have to have a community college there and you could sign up for classes.”

A strand of her pale hair fell in front of her eyes, breaking up the suspicion on her face. “How do you know I’m not crazy?”

“How do you know
I’m
not crazy?” he countered, putting his chopsticks down.

“That was going to be my next question.”

He laughed. “That’s part of the adventure.”

Her head shook quickly, her hair bouncing about her chin. “No. Crazy men in my life are no adventure. One’s enough, thank you.”

“Do you really wonder if I’m crazy?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning on the table, leaning in toward her.

“I guess not.”

“You guess not?” He chuckled, but her words sliced through him. For all that he sympathized with her distrust, being lumped in with any group that included her stepfather felt like being shoved into a tiny closet filled with people who smell like cat piss.

“Who but a crazy person asks a complete stranger to come with them on a road trip?” she asked.

True, but . . .

“Driving around the country on my own isn’t as fun as I hoped it would be.”

She blinked. God, when she decided to take a man’s measure, that man—at least Marc—felt the need to put his shoulders back and stand as tall as possible. He never wanted Selina to look at him and find him wanting.

“I’ll believe that, especially for you. But what if I’m crazy?” She raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t answered that yet.”

“If you were crazy, I think you would’ve jumped at the chance.”

She actually harrumphed. “What about money? I just said that I don’t have any.”

“I’m twenty-five and just sold an app for millions of dollars. I’m not asking you for money. I’ll already be paying for gas and hotels. You’ll be an extra mouth to feed. If you want to pay for your own dinners, you can. But I’m happy to pay for those, too.” Her company would be worth the minor additional cost.

“Because you’re lonely?” With her brow furrowed, she was the cutest mystified person he’d ever seen.

But
lonely
sounded scarier when she said it. “Well, yes. I’m lonely and need the company. You’re trapped and need the escape. We’re both getting something from the other.”

She narrowed her eyes at him again. “What’s the catch?”

“Does there have to be a catch?”

“You just sold your app for millions of dollars and are now wandering around the mountains alone. Sounds to me like there’s a catch to everything, even winning the lottery.”

Her words felt like someone swatting his nose with a small switch. Sure, it hurt, but more than the pain, what she’d said made his eyes water and he had to refocus on the world around him. “I guess that’s true. So then the catch is that you don’t know me and I don’t know you. If you say yes and we make horrible traveling companions, then we’ve both learned a lesson. If that happens, I’ll probably be willing to pay to get you away from me. And you’ll have to go. That seems like catch enough.”

“What about the last of my classes?” She was still protesting, but he could hear how halfhearted they were.

The great idea rushed out of him like a balloon releasing air. “Right. Tests.” He’d forgotten about those terrible things, blocked them out of his mind, really, because he’d never been good at taking tests.

“No tests this semester. Just a final paper.”

“You can e-mail that, then. I’m sure the professor will take it.”

Her mouth twitched. “You seem mighty sure for never having met this professor.”

“Do you have good grades already? I mean, if he’s pissed that you didn’t go to the last couple classes and e-mailed in the final paper, how bad off will you be?”

“Not too bad, I guess. I’m getting an A in the class right now. I probably couldn’t get the job, though,” she said, more to herself than to Marc.

“What job?” he asked, genuinely curious. It was a good sign for him if she already had a job in mind in Salt Lake.

All the stagnation she felt in her life seemed to come out with her sigh. “My professor has a friend who owns an art gallery. It’s silly, but it seems like the coolest job in the world. Not practical and I’d probably starve and be homeless on the salary, but I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to work among pretty things.”