“I’m amazed Travis is in such good spirits,” she said as they headed downtown.
“He’s a tough guy,” Conner said. “Did you know he was once a highway patrolman?”
“No, but I’m not surprised. He’s got that way about him.”
“Not many people know this, but he served three years in prison for manslaughter. He stopped a car that matched the description of a kidnapper’s vehicle. When Travis told the driver to open the trunk, the guy took off. Travis shot him through the rear windshield. He thought he was saving a young girl, but there was nothing in the trunk except some weed. It turned out, the kidnapping was a hoax—just a couple of fool girls making up a story.”
“That’s awful!”
“It gets worse. The college kid who was killed had rich parents with connections to the court. Three years in prison for a cop. Can you imagine how rough on Travis that must’ve been?”
“What I can’t imagine is why he doesn’t seem bitter,” Megan said.
“He was. But then he met Maggie.”
They were getting into the downtown area. Megan had been in Cottonwood Springs before and was somewhat familiar with the place. “The mall has a store that sells gourmet chocolates,” she said. “What do you say we stop before lunch so I can buy Travis and Maggie a nice assortment.”
“Fine. But only if you’ll let me split the cost. That way, the chocolates will be from both of us.”
* * *
They bought a two-pound box of handmade chocolates at the mall, then ate a leisurely lunch at a Chinese restaurant a few blocks away. Laughing as he fumbled with chopsticks, Conner basked in the glow of being right where he wanted to be, with the woman he wouldn’t mind facing across the table for the rest of his life. It was too soon to be falling head over heels in love, he told himself. But today everything felt so good, so right. It was hard not to give in to the sheer giddiness of it. It was all he could do to keep from jumping out of his chair and dancing.
Maybe today, Megan would finally confess that she was the sexy singer who’d knocked his socks off at last year’s Christmas Ball. Then he would tell her that he’d already figured it out. They would share a good laugh, put the whole silly secret behind them, and move on.
But first, she needed to fess up and tell him the truth. And it would have to be her idea. If she couldn’t be honest with him, he might be smart to rethink their relationship.
“We can do whatever sounds fun to you,” he said as they left the restaurant. “But here’s one possibility. When we were in the mall, I noticed an oldies-style movie theater. This week, they’re showing Christmas classics. We could check it out.”
“That sounds like good, relaxing fun,” Megan said.
“If we don’t hit the start times right, we can just stroll around the mall. You can even sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what you want for Christmas,” he teased.
“Only if you’ll do it first.” She gave him a playful punch.
Conner laughed. “I know what I want, but I’m not sure he could get my present down the chimney. Come on, let’s catch a movie.”
They made it to the theater in time for a choice of two movies: It’s a Wonderful Life and How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
“Your choice,” Conner said. “Name it.”
“I’ve seen It’s a Wonderful Life more times than I can count. Every time I see it, I love it more. I vote for that one.”
Conner secretly hated the sentiment
al classic, but he was out to please his lady. “Sounds like a winner,” he said. “And there’s not even a line at the box office.”
They picked up sodas at the concession stand. At this early hour, the small, dark theater was empty.
“If you don’t mind, I like to sit near the back.”
“How’s this?” Conner chose two center seats, a few rows from the rear of the theater. They sat, putting their sodas in the cup holders as the feature started. No one else had come in.
“Hey, we’ve got a private showing.” Conner raised the armrests between their seats before he leaned back, laying an arm behind her shoulders.
Megan laughed. “I feel like I’m in high school again.”
His hand cupped her shoulder, pulling her closer against him. “If we were really in high school, you know what I’d do, don’t you?”