Page 35 of The Christmas Competition

Nisa.

I picked up my pace as my pulse quickened, changing my mind about not wanting to see anyone today.

“Nisa,” I called as I neared the bend. She spun around, briefly clocked me (and was it me, or did her face fall a little?) but then she was distracted by Dave bounding up to her to show off his stick.

“Well, hello there,” she said to him, bending down to give him a pet.

I caught up to them. “Hey. Nice to bump into you.”

She stood from her doggy petting, her face guarded. The area between my brows tensed. Was this the same woman who had danced around her dining room yesterday, acting out a ridiculous and hilarious tale of Santa sabotage?

“Hey,” she said, not returning my platitude about it being nice to see her.

Thrown, I was silent for a couple of seconds. Then I remembered myself. “What’s up?”

“What do you mean?” Wow. The spiky attitude was back with a vengeance.

I cleared my throat and tried again. “You were waving your phone around just now.”

Her face crumpled, and despite the newly returned spikiness, it made my heart crumple too. “My bloody car has conked out a bit farther down the lane and I can’t get a signal to call the breakdown service.”

My chest twisted. “That sucks. You’re not having the best luck recently, are you?”

“You can say that again.” She lifted her phone, cursing when there were still no bars. She glanced at me. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any signal?”

I knew the answer would be no, because this area was always a dead zone, but I did her the courtesy of getting my phone out to check anyway. “Not a sausage.”

She looked so forlorn, and I hated that. I liked feisty Nisa, or animated Nisa. A sad expression had no place on her beautiful face. “Listen. Dave the dog and I are walking the loop, back to my car. I’ll give you a lift back with us, then you can call the breakdown folks to get your car sorted. Sound like a plan?”

She appeared thrown for a beat, and I could tell she was considering her other options. Of which there seemed none except to walk until she got a signal, and it might be a fair walk at that. Her shoulders sagged a little as if in defeat, and it made me wonder why she was so keen to reject my help when she had seemed grateful for it over the past couple of days. The fire probably didn’t count, being an emergency situation. However, she had accepted my offer to help with the refurb.

“Okay,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “Thank you.”

We fell into step to crunch through the snow, and I threw the stick down the lane for Dave. “Were you also feeling stir-​crazy today?”

That earned me a small smile at least. “Pretty much.”

The circles under her eyes and lack of shine within them made me suspect she had had a sleepless night, but I wasn’t sure if it was the fire or the news regarding her ex having a baby that was troubling her the most. Often in these kinds of situations I kept quiet, figuring people would tell me what they wanted to tell me and asking would be intrusive. Or perhaps it was that I avoided these sorts of conversations for fear of saying the wrong thing. But with Nisa, it felt different. Maybe that stemmed from the fact that she had always hated me and there wasn’t really any room to go down in her estimation. “How are you doing? It’s been a rough couple of days for you.”

Some of the pain melted from her face, as if she hadn’t expected me to ask and was grateful that I had. “Rougher for you. You were in hospital longer than me and it wasn’t even your fire.”

“I’m fine. Can’t say I’ve noticed any aftereffects.”

Another small smile. “I’m glad.”

Ahead, in the lane, Dave had paused to investigate the hedgerow on the way back with his stick.

I cleared my throat, wary about asking, but driven by the need to know what she was thinking. “And what about the message from Drew? How are you feeling about that?”

Her expression closed off. “Oh, well, you know.” She shrugged.

I paused to consider my response. “No, I don’t know.” I gave her shoulder a gentle nudge as we walked. “That’s why I’m asking.”

She glanced over, eyebrows raised, then looked away quickly. “I don’t want to burden you with it.”

“No burden. You seemed upset yesterday so I gave you some space. But I, ah . . .” I went to run a hand through my hair, then realized that I was wearing my woolen hat, so ended up giving myself some sort of awkward pat on the head instead. “I didn’t like seeing you upset,” I finished, voice gruff. And it wasn’t from the smoke the previous evening.

Her mouth was open a little as she looked at me.