Home for the Holidays by Rochelle Alers Read Free Book Online Page B

Collier’s face. When he left Iris’s apartment, he wasn’t certain if he would run into her again. Now he was assured of at least three consecutive days with her.
    â€œI need you to get the card table out of the storeroom and put it in Iris’s truck,” Tracy told him.
    â€œMy dining room table seats six; I’ll need the card table for Layla and my niece,” Iris explained when he gave her a questioning look.
    â€œWhere do you live?” Collier asked.
    Â Â 
    Iris had to give it to Collier. He was giving an award-winning performance. “I have an apartment above the sweetgrass shop.”
    His gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth, lingered on her chest, and then back to her eyes. “Will you be able to carry the table up the stairs by yourself?”
    Iris met the bold stare with one of her own. “It can’t be that heavy.”
    Collier’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “You’re going to carry a table and chairs?”
    She gave him a smile usually reserved for placating young children. “I don’t need the chairs.” When she’d moved to the island, she’d used a tray table, two folding chairs, and a sleeping bag for two weeks until a moving company delivered the furniture she’d stored with a Baltimore storage company.
    Tracy looked at her brother, then Iris. “Collier can follow you in his car and carry it up for you.”
    â€œHe can bring it tomorrow,” Iris said in a quiet voice she didn’t recognize as her own after a noticeable silence. The notion of being alone with Collier would prove much too tempting, given her prolonged period of celibacy, much too easy for her to get caught up in sex and not the man.
    Growing up on the base left Iris behind her civilian counterparts socially when it came to dating. The boys of the noncommissioned officers adopted a hands-off approach when it came to dating an officer’s daughter, while the sons of the officers were as appealing to Iris as a case of poison ivy. It wasn’t until she enrolled in college that she had her first serious boyfriend. Sleeping with the second-year medical student wasn’t as exciting as it was satisfying. Then there had been Derrick—her loving, moralistic ex-husband who’d refused to sleep with her until their wedding night. He called it rough sex. She called it rape.
    Collier angled his head, a grin parting his lips. “What time do you want me to come by tomorrow?”
    â€œI’ve planned for everyone to sit down around three, so can you drop by anytime between two and two thirty.” Pushing back her chair, she picked up her plate and stood.
    â€œNah, nah, nah,” intoned Tracy, waving a hand. “Put that plate down. You’ve done enough. I’ll clear the table.”
    Iris hesitated. “I don’t mind.”
    Tracy stood. “But I do. You’re on your feet all day baking at the Muffin Corner; then you come here and cook some more. I’m sorry, girlfriend, beginning now you’re banned from the premises until Monday.”
    Tears welled up in Layla’s eyes. “Why can’t Miss Iris come here, Mama?”
    â€œWrong choice of words, sis,” Collier said under his breath.
    Iris tugged gently on one of Layla’s braids. “Your mother’s joking, sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow when you come to my place. I have a niece who’s eight, so you’ll have someone to play with.”
    â€œWhat’s her name? Is she going to sleep over?”
    Iris hadn’t thought about her niece spending the weekend. After all she didn’t have to go back to the Muffin Corner until Tuesday. She didn’t work the weekends and the bakeshop closed on Sundays and Mondays. “Her name is Allison, but we call her Allie.”
    Layla gave her mother a pitiful look. “Can I sleep over at Miss Iris’s, Mama? Pul-lease.”
    Tracy and Layla spent a week at Iris’s