Baby On The Run. Kate LittleЧитать онлайн книгу.
Especially if they’re edible. Anything I can do to help?”
“I don’t think so. There’s coffee in that pot. The pancakes will be done in a minute. How’s Lindsay this morning? Did she have a good sleep?”
“Straight through the night. She slept much later than usual, too.”
So did I, Carey realized, glancing at the clock. She felt embarrassed for coming down so late, while Ben had been up and about, shoveling snow and cooking pancakes.
Carey made Lindsay a bottle of milk and heated it in the microwave, then fed the baby some cereal and a jar of peaches. The baby was finished with her breakfast at just about the same time Ben brought the platters of food to the table.
Carey balanced Lindsay on her knee as she fixed herself a dish and started eating. “Mmm…these are good. How do you get them to come out so thin?”
Carey wasn’t very good in the kitchen and was impressed by anyone who could cook.
“The great chefs never tells their secrets.” He smiled slightly, then sat back and took a sip of coffee. “I owed you for the burned grilled cheese.”
“The grilled cheese was fine.” She shrugged. “But these are…much better.”
She dipped a forkful of pancake in a puddle of syrup on her plate and popped it into her mouth. These really were the best pancakes she’d had in a long time. She glanced around the kitchen and could see he’d gone to some trouble to fix such a nice breakfast. She would insist on cleaning up.
Then she’d insist on leaving.
He’d gone out of his way to make her feel comfortable in his home and she didn’t feel right causing any more work for him. He had his own life, his own obligations and plans for the holiday. Though he’d only mentioned his family, she was sure that there must be a woman in the picture, somewhere.
“I’d better call some hotels this morning and see if I can find a room,” Carey said suddenly. She glanced at him, but he didn’t show any reaction.
“I can take you to the Greenbriar Inn in town.”
“The inn your family runs?”
“That’s right.” He dabbed his mouth with a paper napkin. “I called this morning and told my mother about you. She has plenty of guests checking out today. She’s going to find a nice room for you and Lindsay.”
Carey didn’t know what to say. He thought of everything, didn’t he? “I appreciate your help, Ben. Once again.”
“It wasn’t much. Just a phone call.”
“I hope it’s not out of your way to take us there? Maybe I should call a cab.”
He leaned back in his chair and laughed. “There are only two taxis in this town, Carey, and neither are pulled by reindeer, so I think you’re stuck riding with me. Some of the roads won’t be plowed, but we’ll get through. I’m going to the inn later. It’s not any trouble to take you.”
“I thought you might be working today.”
“I have the day off. No excuse to miss the family Christmas party.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile, but Carey sensed that given half a chance, he would have liked to skip the family party.
“Is it a big group?”
“Big enough. Aunts, uncles, cousins… We have a big family on both sides and they all assume that since my mother runs a hotel with a huge dining room, she should host all the holidays. She complains,” he confessed, “but I don’t think she’d ever give it up, even if someone offered to take over.”
It sounded like a very big party. Carey wasn’t surprised that Ben had mixed feelings about being part of it. He didn’t seem the type who enjoyed big parties. She could already tell that much about him.
“How about you? Does your family have parties on the holidays?”
Carey shook her head. “My folks are both gone. My dad died when I was in high school and my mother, just a few years ago. My parents would entertain a few relatives and friends at Christmastime. But it was usually pretty quiet. I do have some nice memories of those days,” she said wistfully. “Special presents. Baking cookies with my mom. Singing Christmas carols. That sort of thing…”
She’d never told anyone that, Carey realized. Not even Tom. But no one else had ever asked, had they?
Ben’s expression was thoughtful. “You’re pretty much alone in the world right now, aren’t you?”
Carey shrugged, making light of his question. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. There’s Lindsay,” she said, glancing down at the baby. Lindsay was the joy of her heart. She’d do anything for her. “We have each other. We’re independent types,” she added.
“I can see that,” he said quietly.
She felt the conversation growing too serious. “What time do you want to leave for town?” she asked suddenly.
“In about an hour.” He glanced at his watch. “That should be enough time, even with the snow.”
Carey rose and picked up some dirty dishes.
“I can do that,” Ben said.
“Sorry, my turn. You made breakfast,” she reminded him. “This will be my Christmas present.”
She glanced at him and caught a rare smile. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and watched her work.
“It was this…or a tie. You don’t seem the tie type, though.”
His smile grew wider. “You’re right. I’m not.”
He was anything but. You’d have to be blind not to see that, Carey reflected. She worked quickly, focusing on her tasks.
He watched her for a moment more, then started to help her. She didn’t argue with him, though she felt a bit light-headed from his nearness in the small kitchen. She was relieved when they were done and she was able to take Lindsay upstairs again and get ready to leave for the inn.
The short stay at Ben’s cabin had worked an amazing effect. She felt so relaxed, as if she’d been on a weeklong vacation. She’d eaten well, slept well and her pressing worries had suddenly seemed very distant. All the voices in her head were muffled by the snowfall and her mind totally distracted by her handsome, compelling host.
Now as they drove toward town, Carey felt all her cares rushing in again. But it was Christmas, she reminded herself. Even if she wasn’t going to celebrate the day, she could at least give herself a day off from worrying.
She watched the snow-covered scenery pass by. It all looked different in the daylight. Now she could see the road she’d driven down did have a few houses scattered here and there. Or at least, roadside mailboxes and narrow lanes that seemed to indicate life up in the woods. The houses soon became more visible and frequent. She realized they were coming into town.
Greenbriar wasn’t even a full dot on the map. But up close, it was a pretty and surprisingly lively looking place, with shops, restaurants, a post office, movie theater and a town hall. A lot like the town she’d left inVermont—Blue Lake. But a bit bigger, she thought. The village was decorated beautifully, with wreaths on shop windows and garlands strung across Main Street.
Ben pulled up to a huge, Victorian mansion that faced the village green. A wooden sign in front read Greenbriar Inn in gold lettering. The three-story building was painted a muted rose color with burgundy, forest-green and golden-yellow trim.
The first floor was circled by a wide, columned porch and the second floor had a large balcony in front. The porch was draped with pine garlands and wreaths hung in all the windows on the first and second floor, each with long satin bows. A huge pine wreath decorated the front entranceway, double doors arched on top.
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