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But her heart kept insisting that there was something here worth paying attention to.
She heard the sound of someone shifting on the creaky boards of the bed and breakfast, and she turned to see Christopher standing in the doorway, one shoulder leaning against it, watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.
How long had he been there? Had he heard her conversation with her mother? The thought made her cheeks heat slightly, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. She hadn’t said anything particularly private, but still, there was something vulnerable about it.
“Everything all right?” he asked, his voice warm.
Layla straightened in the chair, suddenly aware of how she must look—wrapped in a blanket, her hair probably a mess, her coffee cold and forgotten. She resisted the urge to smooth her hair or adjust the blanket, forcing herself to meet his eyes instead.
“Just checking in with my parents. Letting them know I’m… detained.”
Amusement flickered across Christopher’s face. “That’s one way to put it.”
“My mother’s word, actually.” Layla found herself smiling despite everything. “She’s convinced I’m suffering terribly, stuck in a small town with nothing to do and nowhere to go.”
“And are you?” Christopher pushed off from the doorframe, taking a few steps into the room. “Suffering terribly?”
The question was light and teasing, but there was concern underneath it. Layla felt her smile widen.
“Absolutely miserable,” she said, matching his tone. “I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee in days.”
Christopher glanced pointedly at the mug in her hands, then back at her face, one eyebrow raised. “That bad, huh?”
“The worst.” Layla took a sip of the cold coffee, making a face. “See? Undrinkable.”
“That might have more to do with the fact that you’ve been letting it get cold than with the quality of the coffee itself.” Christopher’s voice was dry, but his eyes were warm, and Layla felt something flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with caffeine.
They looked at each other for a moment, and Layla was struck again by how comfortable this felt, the easy banter and gentle teasing. With Christopher, it felt as natural as breathing.
“Actually,” Christopher said, his tone becoming more serious, “I came to ask if you might be interested in helping with something today.”
Layla felt her pulse quicken, although she tried to keep her expression neutral. “Oh?”
“We made a lot of soup yesterday at the community center. More than we needed for the people who were there. I’m planning to take it around to some of the families who are still without power and make sure everyone has something hot to eat.” He paused, studying her face. “I thought you might want to come along. If you’re interested.”
Layla was practically vibrating with excitement at the chance to spend more time with Christopher, to be useful and helpful and part of something meaningful. It was exactly what she wanted, even if she hadn’t quite realized it until this moment.
“I’d love to,” she said, unable to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice. “That sounds wonderful.”
Christopher’s face broke into a smile that made her heart do a flip in her chest.
“Great,” he said. “We’ll leave in about an hour, if that works for you? Dress warm—we’ll be in and out of the truck a lot, and some of the houses we’re visiting don’t have heat right now.”
“I’ll be ready,” Layla promised.
Christopher nodded, then turned to leave, but paused in the doorway, looking back at her. “Layla?”
She swallowed hard.
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you’re here.” He said it without elaborating, and then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Layla sat very still for a long moment, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, the cold coffee forgotten on the side table. She wanted to stop overthinking everything and just let herself feel what she was feeling.
She wasn’t stuck. She was exactly where she wanted to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY
