Running Scared (Letters From Morgantown Book 1)

by Tracie Puckett

“Come here,” Chris said, and his arm fell around my shoulder as he pulled me into his side. “Look at that. We did that.”

  “Yeah,” I said, and my head was tempted to drift down to rest on his shoulder. I felt myself wanting to inch closer him, to turn into him, but I couldn’t do it; I wanted to wrap my arms around his midsection and hug him, hold on to him as if he were the only thing in the world I had left to hold on to. I wanted to feel his arms locked around me, huddling me inside that same warm cocoon that’d calmed me into a slumber last night. I would’ve melted. I would’ve buried my face in his chest, breathed him in, and burned every moment of his touch to memory.

  I would’ve, but I couldn’t. His arm around my shoulder was as far as I could let it go.

  I yawned, and he slowly eased himself away.

  “Why don’t you go to bed, get some rest,” he said. “I’ll clean up out here.”

  “No,” I said, yawning again. “I’ll help. I don’t want Danielle to come back tomorrow and find that we haven’t finished everything.”

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “I have a few places to touch up in the dining room, a little sweeping and dusting. According to pink Post-it #42, she finished everything upstairs, so it’s all little stuff from here. I’ll take care of it.”

  “But—”

  “I won’t hear any arguments.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “I’m sorry I’m tired,” I said. “I haven’t been out in so long, I think the day caught up to me.”

  “No apology necessary,” he said. “I had fun today. Thank you.”

  “Thank you.”

  I peeled myself away and started for the privacy door near the stairs, and Chris rounded the corner into the dining room. I could already hear him rustling with paint cans, and I felt guilty that he’d be up late tonight, finishing all the things he could’ve done during the day if I hadn’t kept him out.

  I tiptoed back through the foyer and peeked around the corner into the dining room, watching as he turned a stick through the creamy liquid in the can. He looked so handsome kneeling there, his eyes on the job, but his mind lost somewhere else. I wondered if he was thinking of me, the way I’d spent the entire day thinking of him.

  “Hey, Chris,” I said, and he jumped, falling back from his squatted position and landing hard on his butt. He closed his eyes, embarrassed that he’d let his guard down. “Whoa, who’s the jumpy one now?”

  He smiled. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “I forgot to say something.”

  “Okay?” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You said that already.”

  “Yes, for today, but I haven’t thanked you for everything else,” I said. “For letting me stay here, for last night, especially. You’ve been so kind, and I want you to know that I’m grateful for everything. So thank you.”

  He smiled wider, his expression turning goofier as his cheeks reddened and his dimples grew. Flustered and overwhelmed, it was the most adorable I’d ever seen him look.

  “Also,” I said, taking a chance to be more like him, to exert the kind of boldness I’d never had, “I’m glad you’re not interested in Danielle.” His expression flattened again, a wave of curiosity sweeping over him, and I lifted a hand to wave. “Goodnight.”

  ***

  “Okay, who’s ready for Secret Santa?”

  My heart smiled every time I heard his voice, and little by little, I felt that smile clawing its way to my lips. It was wrong, because given the situation, nothing could ever come of these feelings I’d developed for him, but I couldn’t convince my heart to agree with my mind.

  He’d changed so much for me . . .

  I went to sleep last night without tears. I didn’t cry into my pillow or long for the things I’d lost. I still thought of Dad, but this time it wasn’t the horrific replay of what happened that night at the park. Instead, my thoughts turned to happier things. I wondered what he would’ve thought of Chris. He would’ve liked him, I decided. A lot. I imagined how happy it would make my father to learn that I’d trusted my instinct, and my instinct had proven itself reliable. He would’ve been proud of me.

  And then I thought of Carrie, my best friend since kindergarten. I would’ve given anything to have a way to get ahold of her. I’d tossed and turned for an hour, wishing I could call home. I wanted to tell her about Chris, about all the things he’d said and done that made my heart turn flip-flops. I wanted to gush to my best friend about how hopeful I was about the connection I felt. And I wanted to ask her about things back home. Did she have a date for the winter formal? What would she wear? The dance was only two nights away, and I would’ve given anything to be there, to help her get ready. I missed her so much . . .

  But as much as I’d wanted to confide in her last night, I couldn’t sneak away to call without being noticed—not on the B&B landline. Chris was still hard at work in the dining room by the time I fell asleep.

  I woke up this morning feeling refreshed and buzzing with energy, and that was something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “Hello, anybody? Secret Santa?” Chris said.

  Danielle, Theo, and I turned from our spots in the common room, watching as Chris entered from the kitchen with a small bowl clutched in his hands.

  “I’ve put our names in the bowl.”

  “The whole whopping four of us?” Danielle asked.

  “Yes, all four,” he said. “I had to settle for these tiny scraps of paper, though. We ran out of Post-its last night.” His eyes flickered to the tree, and Danielle scoffed. “Okay, the rules are simple: draw a name. If you get your own, put it back. Keep the contents of your slip to yourself, because that’s the person you’re focusing on this Christmas.”

  “What’s the price cap for the gifts?” Theo asked.

  “That’s the fun part,” he said. “We’re making the gifts. It’s gotta come from the heart.”

  “What do you mean we’re making the gifts?” Danielle asked. “Shopping, spending money, wrapping presents . . . isn’t that the whole point of Christmas?”

  “No, I’m pretty sure it’s not,” Chris said. “Gifts from the heart, guys.”

  “I like the idea,” I said.

  “Me too,” Theo echoed.

  “Okay, let’s draw.” Chris hopped over the back of the couch and landed on the cushion next to mine. He nudged me with his shoulder.

  “Syd, do the honors.”

  “All right,” I said, reaching into the bowl and scrambling up the four tiny pieces of paper. I pulled one out, unfolded the crease, and read the name. “Okay.”

  “Who’d you get?” Danielle asked.

  “Don’t answer that,” Chris said. “It’s called Secret Santa.”

  “Well, if we don’t tell each other who we got, then how do we know you didn’t put your name in there four times?” Danielle asked. “That way you’re banking and we get nothing. Nada. Zip.”

  “Oh, come on, look at this face,” he said, pouting his lip. “Does this look like the face of a man who would deceive you?”

  “Yes,” she and Theo said in unison, and there was shared laughter among the three of them.

  “Danielle, your pick.”

  The bowl went to Danielle, Theo, and then Chris took the last remaining name.

  “Everyone have someone who isn’t themselves?” he asked. We all looked at our papers again and nodded. “Good. What do you say we exchange gifts on Christmas Eve? We’ll have the place to ourselves. We can do a nice breakfast—”

  “I’ll handle that,” Theo said.

  “And then we’ll exchange presents around the tree,” Chris concluded. “How’s that sound?”

  Everyone chimed in with agreements except for me, and then all the eyes in the room turned for my response.

  “Little Bird?” Theo asked.

  “I can’t,” I said quietly.

  “Why not?” Danielle asked.<
br />
  “I don’t know if I’ll be here,” I said, feeling an odd tug in my chest. Going home was the only thing I’d wanted since I’d left, but the thought of not being here to exchange gifts hurt my heart in a way I hadn’t expected.

  Theo shifted in his seat, uncomfortable about my statement.

  “Well, if you go home for the holidays, we can always do the exchange before you leave,” Chris said. “We’ll keep it flexible.”

  Theo nodded. “Yeah, it’s not likely you’ll be out of here without warning,” he said, assuring me that my departure from Morgantown wouldn’t be anything like my quick and unexpected exit from Ohio. “But I think you’ll still be here. I don’t see a reason why you wouldn’t be.”

  “Really?” I asked, and Theo’s eyes softened, a clear sign that he hadn’t heard anything to indicate that I would be leaving Morgantown anytime soon.

  “Listen,” Danielle chimed in. “I don’t mean to be the Christmas Grinch, but we need to wrap this up and discuss the reason we’re here. We’re opening tomorrow. We have guests arriving at approximately three p.m., and no one else seems concerned that we’re not ready.”

  “Okay, I guess the fun’s over. Down to work,” Chris said, setting the Secret Santa bowl aside. He slid a clipboard off the coffee table and read. “The annual Morgantown Lighting Display kicks off at sunset tomorrow with the tree lighting in the square. We’re booked to capacity as guests come in for the event. We have the Carlsons joining us from Desden for the weekend, coming in tomorrow at three.”

  Danielle perked up, proud of herself for already knowing that.

  “Mr. Kingsley from Sugar Creek is making his yearly trip into town for the celebration,” Chris continued. “He’ll be armed with his camera, photographing the event, so expect a lot of flashes. He’s expected to arrive tomorrow evening, weather permitting. For the third and final room . . . ” Chris turned to Theo and Danielle, “Amy’s coming home.”

  “Amy?” Danielle asked. “Are you serious? It wasn’t in the books. Why are you now telling me this?”

  “Because it’s a surprise,” Chris said. “She doesn’t even know yet, and we need to keep it that way.”

  “What do you mean she doesn’t know?” Danielle asked.

  “Eli’s surprising her with a trip home during their winter break,” he said. “He doesn’t want to stay with her parents in Desden, so he called last week to book a room.”

  “Oh, my God, this is fantastic,” she said, clapping her hands.

  “And we’re putting them in the Rose Room,” Chris said.

  “That’s our most romantic room,” Danielle cooed. “I’ll play up the theme—big time. I’ll get more flowers.”

  “Do that,” he said. “He’s proposing this weekend, and we have to make everything about this trip perfect for them.” Chris scanned the list in his hand. “Theo, is the menu ready for the weekend?”

  “About that . . . ”

  “You didn’t finish the menu?” Danielle asked.

  “I’m working on it,” Theo said. “I’m trying out some new things, wanna see what works before I make any decisions.”

  Chris closed his eyes. “I hate to sound like Danielle on this one, but we need to have that done as soon as possible.”

  “Food allergies? Likes? Dislikes?” Theo asked.

  “Nothing we know of,” Chris said.

  Theo gave Chris a nod and scribbled some notes in the book on his lap.

  The morning went on that way, Chris, Danielle, and Theo discussing the plans for the weekend. There were three drastically different personalities running the B&B, and yet when they started talking about the operations, all of their differences were set aside and everything felt cohesive. They were synching up—working as an amazing team, throwing suggestions around, and taking charge of their own stations.

  Each of them agreed to spend their day focused on fulfilling their list of duties, and that meant Theo had a lot of cooking on his hands. I offered to step in and do the taste testing, and Theo was all for accepting my help. After an hour of discussion and delegation, Chris called the meeting to an end.

  “I’m ready to get guests back in this place,” Danielle said. “It’s seems like it’s been forever.”

  “Personally, I’ve enjoyed the quiet time,” Chris said. “But tomorrow should be fun. We’ll have a full house. Everyone ready?”

  The three of them looked to each other, ready and smiling, but I felt my chest growing heavier. We’ll have a full house.

  I’d gotten so used to these three faces. And even though Danielle wasn’t someone I trusted or even cared for, I wasn’t in any danger around her. Chris and Theo trusted her enough, and that’s all the assurance I needed. But by my calculation, we had two couples and a single man coming into the B&B tomorrow, and that meant five new faces. Five new strangers. Five new potential threats. They weren’t townspeople in the diner who I’d meet and then say goodbye to. The guests were staying in the B&B, under the same roof. In my safe haven. Suddenly all the fear and anxiety I’d felt when first arriving in Morgantown swept over me again.

  I wasn’t ready. Not even a little.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The day buzzed by with little talk of the impending arrivals. Since finishing up the bathrooms and bedrooms upstairs, Danielle had completed her end of the bargain for the reopening, and she set about downstairs to finish the Christmas decorations.

  Theo was off in the kitchen, prepping his menu and trying out new recipes. Chris stayed busy—zipping around from room to room, making calls, and pitching in wherever needed.

  I gave Theo some space to start working out his recipes, and it was only after I was certain he’d found a rhythm that I stuck my head into the kitchen.

  “Hey,” I said, keeping a safe distance from Theo as he moved around, utilizing the stove, oven, and counter space in their entirety. Propping myself against the door frame, I tried to meet his sightline. “Still need a taste-tester?”

  “Are you still offering to taste-test?” he asked, never stopping for a minute to look in my direction.

  “Yeah,” I said. “As long as I’m not in the way.”

  “You’d have to actually come in the kitchen to be in my way, Little Bird,” he said, finally looking up at me. “You holdin’ up the wall or what?”

  “Oh,” I said, pushing myself off the door. “No, I was . . . ”

  I wanted to tell him that it was completely out of habit that I stayed out of his way. Back home, Rosa had one rule: stay out of the kitchen while she worked. When she had meals to plan, food in the oven, or time-sensitive prep work to do, conversation was the last thing she had time for. She could do about anything, I was certain, but multi-tasking in the kitchen wasn’t something she did well. Years of habit taught me to never disturb a chef at work.

  But I couldn’t tell him that. He’d already stopped me once before for mentioning life back home, and he’d even made it clear that he had little faith in Rosa in connection with my father’s death. Any mention of her now, no matter how innocent, wouldn’t be appreciated.

  “I won’t bother you?” I asked.

  “Why would you be a bother? I thought we agreed you were going to help.”

  “When you were done,” I said. “I don’t want to interrupt your timing or anything. I know you need to concentrate.”

  “Right,” he said, nodding to the seats behind us. “But I also enjoy the company. Pull up a chair.”

  I took a few hesitant steps into the kitchen, feeling his eyes on me until I finally reached the small table at the back of the room. I sank into the nearest seat.

  Theo turned back to the caramelized pears he’d plated on the counter, drizzling a thin layer of honey over the top of the fruit. He worked quietly, and I didn’t say anything to interrupt the silence. Again, habit. Never disturb a chef at work.

  “What’s on your mind, Little Bird?” he asked, his hands still busy. I shook my head, though he hadn’t turned around to see my reaction. Whe
n I didn’t vocalize a response, he opted for another direction. “How’d you like Morgantown?”

  “It was nice.”

  He nodded, as if agreeing, but still waited for an elaboration—one he wouldn’t get. There was little to add. The town was nice, the people were nice, the whole experience was . . . nice. Pleasant. But he’d been around long enough to know those things already, so it wouldn’t do me any good to waste breath telling him what he already knew.

  I turned my attention to my hands and twirled my thumbs, wishing I hadn’t offered my help. He wasn’t at all like Rosa. While he cooked, he wanted to make conversation, and Theo and I didn’t have much to talk about. He had strict limitations about what was acceptable, and I had little desire to talk about anything other than the life I knew, loved, and missed. It made for an entirely awkward situation.

  How could I back out now and dash for my room without being rude?

  “It looks like you’re getting along well with Chris,” Theo said.

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “Yeah, he’s great.”

  “He is great,” he said. “I was hoping the two of you would hit it off.”

  “Yeah?” I asked, wondering why Theo would care. Other than the fact that we were living under the same roof, it shouldn’t have mattered one way or another if Chris and I got along. I wasn’t sticking around forever. With as temporary as my stay in Morgantown was, whether or not I liked Chris should’ve been the least of Theo’s concerns. “Why’s that?”

  “It never hurts to make a new friend, right?”

  “Well, no, I guess not,” I said. “But I’m sure he has plenty of friends without needing another.”

  “Less than you’d think,” he said. “The kid keeps to himself a lot these days.”

  I nodded. It made sense that Chris would keep people at arm’s length. He’d lost someone he loved, and he’d already admitted how severely that loss had impacted him. To keep people at a distance, to keep to yourself . . . it’s about the only guaranteed way of making sure you don’t end up hurt again. Other people could let you down without even trying, but you could always count on yourself. Maybe Chris was happily self-reliant.