patted the space next to her. “Have a seat.”
She produced a thermos from the inside of her parka and cups from her coat pockets. She unscrewed the thermos lid, and the smell of hot chocolate tickled his nose.
“That can’t possibly taste as good as it smells,” he said.
“Better.” She handed him a cup.
Sweet, hot and chocolaty, Kyle gulped down the contents of the small cup in a single swallow and stuck it out for a refill.
“You wouldn’t happen to have more of your grandmother’s toffee in your pockets, would you?” he asked, as she poured him a second cup. The candy was addictive, and he’d been wondering since breakfast when she’d ration out more. “I worked up an appetite with all the shoveling.”
Nia smiled, a subtle hot chocolate mustache clinging to her upper lip. Kyle couldn’t remember the last time he’d had hot chocolate or found something as simple as a woman’s smile so endearing.
“I’m saving the toffee, but I have something else.” She pulled two sandwiches from her coat pocket and handed him one. “Hope you like peanut butter and jelly.”
A day ago, Kyle would have called the idea of him eating a peanut butter sandwich ridiculous. However, the storm and a couple hours of working outdoors had made his upscale palate less discriminating, and the wax-paper-wrapped sandwiches currently held the appeal of a Maine lobster with drawn butter.
“Who doesn’t like PB and J?” he asked, unwrapping his sandwich and taking a huge bite.
They ate in companionable silence enjoying the picture-postcard view of the snow from the covered porch as if they were sipping ice-cold lemonade in the sunshine instead of hot chocolate in the middle of a snowstorm.
“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Nia broke the silence.
Kyle didn’t want to talk about work or his cousin. Speculating about what was going on back at Ellison was driving him nuts.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve rehashed it enough in my head,” he said. “I’d rather hear all about you.”
Usually, when he told a woman he wanted to know more about her, he was feeding her a line. However this time it was true. Kyle really did want to know more about the woman behind those big brown eyes and beguiling smile.
“Nothing much to tell.” Nia shrugged.
He looked out at the vast blanket of whiteness. No visible houses or neighbors, just snow as far as the eye could see.
“Staying out here in the boonies must have been quite an adjustment from the Chicago area,” he said, to draw her out.
Nia nodded. “Initially, I just wanted to settle Grandma’s affairs as quickly as possible and get the heck out of here.”
She shivered, and he draped his free arm around her shoulders. The move had been instinctive. He hadn’t planned it, but now that his arm was around her he didn’t want to move it.
“And now?” he asked
“First of all, Grandma left me with a big chunk of unfinished business. It’s taking longer to handle than I expected...” Her voice trailed off.
“And secondly?”
“What started off as obligation has become a personal commitment,” she said.
The wind started to pick up again. She leaned back into the crook of his arm and continued. “Growing up, I longed to leave here and live in a big city. The towering buildings and people seemed to have an energy, an exciting vibe. I wanted to be a part of it,” she said. “Now being back after all these years, I can appreciate the things I used to dislike about living here.”
“Like what?” Kyle asked, enjoying the feel of her soft weight against him.
“The quiet for one. My neighbors at home can be noisy,” she said. “Also, growing up I thought our tight-knit town was a bit too friendly. Everyone has a tendency to stick their noses in everyone else’s business.”
Kyle appreciated the fact Nashville was friendly enough where strangers still greeted each other with a good morning or bob of the head, yet large enough they
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