Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [47]
“Heather, listen,” Elijah said as he unfolded his arms and slowly straightened. “I’m not the kind of guy who decorates palm trees with paper stars or sings about melting snowmen.”
“But I thought—”
“What?” He slapped his hand against the side of his head in frustration. “What were you thinking?”
“I like to party, too, but a steady diet of it grows old after a while.”
“Says who?”
“Me,” she cried. She’d never asked Elijah where he got his money, but she was beginning to think she should. “You didn’t even consult me about having all these other people along.”
“Hey,” Elijah snapped, thrusting up both palms in a gesture of surrender. “You didn’t consult me about all this Christmas junk you’re so keen on, either.”
He was right, but his sarcasm didn’t make her feel any better. “I thought it would be just the two of us.”
“Well, it isn’t. I’ve got friends, and I’m not letting any woman get between me and my people.”
“Your…people?”
“You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, Heather was beginning to understand all too well.
“Peaches warned me about college girls,” he muttered.
“Ben warned me about you,” she returned.
“Who the hell is Ben?”
“A friend.” Heather wanted to kick herself for not listening, but it was too late for that.
“College girls are nothing but trouble.”
“You didn’t used to think that,” Heather reminded him. “Not about me.” From the moment they met, he’d said he didn’t want to get involved with a college girl, and she’d taken that as a challenge to change his mind. She’d wanted to prove…what? She didn’t know. Possibly how incredibly foolish she could be.
“I didn’t used to think about a lot of things,” Elijah said emphatically. “I’ve got a weakness for good girls, but the first thing they want to do is change me. Thing is, I’m content just the way I am. I’m not ever going to sit under any Christmas tree and sing silly songs. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
Heather looked down the road and nodded. “I’m never going to be happy living like this.” Her wide gesture took in the bar, the motorcycles, a group of hysterically laughing people clambering out of a cab. “Like what?”
“Like this,” she said. “Life is more than one big party, you know?”
“No, I don’t,” he countered.
“Fine.” It wouldn’t do any good to argue. “I’m leaving.”
“You won’t get any argument from me, but I’m not taking you to Boston, if that’s what you want.”
“No.” She’d never ask that of him. “I’ll catch a bus to Miami in the morning and fly back.”
“What about money?” he asked, and the way he said it made it clear she was on her own.
“I’ll be fine.”
Elijah snorted. “Mommy’s credit card to the rescue, right?”
Heather did have an emergency credit card her mother had given her, and she’d be forced to use it. In three years, she’d never had reason to do so, but she did now. Still, she was determined to pay back every last penny.
“Yes, Mommy’s credit card. I’m fortunate to have a mother.”
Elijah considered that for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “That’s probably the reason you’re in college. You had parents who gave a damn about you.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out for us,” she told Elijah, sad now.
He shrugged casually. “Don’t worry about it. We had a few good times.”
“No hard feelings?”
Elijah shook his head. “You’ll be all right, and so will I.”
Heather knew that what he said was true. She should also have known, when she left Boston, that this arrangement would never work. Now she had two days to get back there and find her mother. Her poor, desperate mother in a strange town, without any friends…
TWENTY-ONE
The phone rang as Ray and Emily sat by the Christmas tree, both cross-legged, sipping wine and listening to a Christmas concert on the radio.
“Don’t answer that,” he warned. “It might be my mother.”
Emily smiled and hopped up to check caller ID. “It’s my phone number back in Washington,” she said, picking up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Emily? It