Christmas in His Bed: Talking in Your Sleep... / Unwrapped / Kiss & Tell. Carrie Alexander

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СКАЧАТЬ tilted his head toward the house across the street. “Bessie? The older lady who lives there, in the white house—just lost her husband?”

      “Oh, yes. Right.”

      “I caught her trying to hang some Christmas lights and almost killing herself up on a ladder, so I’m helping her out. Wondered if you might want to come over and give us a hand? I could use someone on the ground to feed me the extension cord while I’m up on the roof. She makes a mean chicken soup.”

      “Sorry, I have to get going. I need to replace those groceries.” She didn’t bother hiding the stiff accusation in her tone. “And run some errands.”

      “Don’t you ever relax?”

      She was clearly taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

      “You’re always so tense, so tight. You’ll give yourself high blood pressure.”

      She arched an eyebrow. “I guess you’re an expert, seeing as you’re an EMT?”

      He smiled. “You remembered.”

      “Impossible to forget conversations with men who storm in my door in the middle of the night.”

      “I hardly stormed your door. Though I probably would have if you hadn’t answered.”

      “That’s not comforting.”

      “I thought you were in trouble. I didn’t know you were talking in your sleep,” he added, his normally easygoing personality giving way to the urge to taunt her.

      “I do not—never mind. I have to get going.”

      She stepped around him, and he let her go, shaking his head, but thanking her silently for the reminder that he still needed to go to the store to pick up that tape.

      “I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’D DO without you, Joy—you’re a total lifesaver.”

      “I had fun. The guys did most of the heavy lifting, and I can’t wait to get back and get those chairs and dressers cleaned up—they’re really gorgeous. You might want to consider selling them rather than using them—I think at least one is an antique.”

      They’d been moving some furniture donated by an estate sale into the Second Chance shelter that Pam ran, and were taking time out for a late lunch. It had been a busy afternoon.

      “Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like the idea of replacing some of the crappier stuff, make the rooms nicer.”

      Joy grinned, relaxed for the first time in days as she sat with Pam Reynolds at the cheery sidewalk café, munching panini sandwiches and talking. Pam was the first friend she’d made in San Diego after she’d moved. The people who had owned Joy’s house had left some old furniture, and Joy had been looking for a place to donate the stuff. She’d discovered a shelter a half mile away and when she’d called Pam, she’d not only taken Joy’s donations, but had ended up talking her into doing some volunteer time at the shelter.

      It was a great place. Second Chance did more than give people a meal or a cot for the night; Pam was really trying to change people’s lives. The shelter housed up to twelve residents at a time. The men came from all walks of life, but they all wanted a second chance, and that was what she gave them. Pam had arrangements with local colleges, employers, businesses, high schools, doctors…. Whatever it took to give a break to those who were willing to work for it.

      Joy had been so inspired by the project that she’d become a regular volunteer and supporter. Even when she was involved in the most menial tasks, Joy was doing something real, something worthwhile. She was contributing to people’s lives. She spent a lot of her weekend and weeknight time at the shelter, helping out how she could, but also visiting with Pam. They’d become close friends over the years. Though Pam was about ten years older than Joy, the age difference meant nothing to their friendship.

      A San Diego native, Pam hardly looked her age either; her curly hair, almost black, framed skin kissed by the California sun. Pam’s family lived in an exclusive neighborhood northeast of the city, and she’d been born into privilege that no one would imagine given her no-nonsense clothes, almost always jeans and T-shirts. She was pretty, but didn’t bother with makeup; she almost didn’t need to. Joy envied her strong features and flawless skin.

      “Any chance you can cover me tonight for a few hours?” Pam asked tentatively and then waved her hand. “Never mind. You’ve been working all day, and it’s Saturday night.”

      “You have a hot date?” Joy teased.

      Then the most amazing thing happened: Pam’s beautiful skin turned beet-red. Joy’s jaw dropped.

      “You do! You’re seeing him again, aren’t you, this mystery man you’ve been stealing away with….”

      “Oh stop that—we’re not ‘stealing away’ anywhere. It’s simply a Saturday night out.”

      “With the same guy?”

      Pam seemed very tense, and Joy didn’t get it. They usually talked about everything, including men, but on the topic of her love life, Pam was unusually silent. Joy didn’t push, but it was the single snag in their friendship that she worried about; why wouldn’t Pam confide in her? Wasn’t that what best friends did? Joy told Pam everything, not that there was much to tell—she’d dated some guys from work, but nothing much ever came of it.

      “Sorry, I didn’t mean to push. I just want you to know you can talk to me if you need to.”

      Pam smiled. “I know that. I will tell you about him, once I know how it’s all going to work out.”

      “It’s been going on for a while—you guys getting serious? Wait—sorry—I didn’t ask that,” Joy said, holding her hand up, and they laughed. “If you want a night off, I can cover for you. I don’t have any plans tonight,” Joy offered.

      “I wish you did.” Pam made the comment offhandedly as she polished off the last of her salad.

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      Pam sighed, pushing her plate back. “Joy, you’re a jewel and I’m so thankful we met I can’t tell you. It just seems like you don’t do anything but work and volunteer at the shelter. It’s not healthy.”

      “I do plenty of other things.”

      “Like what? I think you’ve only been out on a dozen dates in the entire six years I’ve known you.”

      “I date now and then, but I can’t seem to meet anyone who catches my interest. They’re all so … I don’t know, they’re just not guys I want to go out with more than once or twice.”

      “Maybe because you worked with most of them and you ended up talking shop most of the time. You should be fishing in different oceans. Find someone new, with a different job, different interests?”

      “Maybe. I don’t know, Pam. I’ve tried the whole dating thing, but I don’t seem to have the same wiring as other women.”

      “Meaning?”

      “You know. I’ve told you.” Joy lowered СКАЧАТЬ