Page 47 of A Match Made at Christmas

“Just be ready, okay?” Hayes stood. “I’ve got a plan. But send flowers anyway—and don’t be cheap about it.” He’d started out the door when Howie stopped him. He turned back and found the older man still sitting at the table, looking slightly pathetic.

“I meant what I said, kid,” he admonished. “Don’t wait. She’s worth the risk.”

The words hung there—a warning if he’d ever heard one—and finally, after several seconds, Hayes nodded, then walked away, replaying the highlights of the conversation in his mind.

That kiss still had his head spinning in circles—he wasn’t thinking clearly. Or maybe, for the first time, he was. Maybe Pru was right, and there really was one person for everyone. And Pru was that person for him. It’s why every other relationship he attempted felt so empty. Because he compared every other woman to her.

And none of them even came close.

He skipped the car in favor of a walk—the fresh, crisp air would do him good—and his path was illuminated by the dozens of lit Christmas trees lining the street. He turned a corner and strode toward her house, a place of comfort and peace—not because of the four walls, but because of who was inside.

She’d calmed the anxiety inside him, and he’d been carrying it around with him for months. Pru had captivated him the moment he saw her emerge from the waves all those years ago.

He had to tell her. He didn’t want to end up like Howie.

Down the block, he saw her pull up in front of her house and park her SUV on the street. The headlights turned off, and she got out. He stood back—watching her like a crazy stalker—or like a man who’d had a revelation.

He loved her. He’d loved kissing her. He wanted to do it again and for a very long time.

A niggle of a reminder played at the back of his mind. He knew he wasn’t good enough for Pru. He knew that she wasn’t the kind of woman he could just casually date. He knew if he took this step, it would likely lead to another trip—straight down the aisle.

Was he really ready for that? Was he really the kind of guy who could commit to that? How would she handle his vagabond lifestyle? Or would being with her mean he had to give that up?

He watched as she opened the door to her house and went inside.

There was a lot more to this than a simple proclamation of love. He had to be sure. This was too important to get wrong. She was too important to lose.

Maybe they both needed to sleep on it. Because if he was going to lose her, he didn’t want to do it tonight.

So, like a chicken, Hayes went back to the restaurant, got in the McGuire family island car, and drove home, where he spent a very long, very sleepless night. And it had nothing to do with what he’d seen in the Middle East.

* * *

Pru had seenthe regret on Hayes’s face the second he pulled from her arms. It was a look she’d been dreading, a look she’d never forget.

His words echoed at the back of her mind—he said he’d screwed everything up. Obviously, he regretted that kiss.

Never mind that she could still taste him on her lips. Never mind she loved that she could.

She’d run out onto the street and found Peggy walking gingerly on the icy sidewalk. She linked arms with the woman, practically a stranger, and they walked all the way to Peggy’s house, barely talking. It was almost as if a quiet understanding existed in their silence.

Now, in the quiet comfort of her little cottage, she checked her phone and saw that Hayes had texted.

I’m so sorry, Pru. We need to talk.

But she wouldn’t text him back tonight. Tomorrow, she knew she’d have to pretend the kiss meant nothing. That she agreed with him it was a mistake. But tonight, she wanted to imagine—even for a little while—that the Nantucket Christmas magic might’ve actually been at work on her behalf.

Tonight, she’d fall asleep dreaming that the kiss had changed everything between them, the way she’d been hoping of for a whole lot longer than she cared to admit.

Chapter 15

A Roof With a View

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Hayes’s voice turned her around. She was standing in the entryway of the Nantucket Whaling Museum, waiting for him to escort her into the preview party. She’d told him not to pick her up at her house because this way it seemed less like a date. This way, her fantasies might stay rooted in realism. This way, she might be able to go forward with her plan to let him off the hook for what had happened in the office the night before.

Shehadbeen avoiding him. She’d left her house early that morning and hadn’t returned until late. She’d gone to the surf shop to work on one of the custom boards she needed to get finished, and took far too long sanding and glassing it because she was so distracted.

Typically, working on a board calmed her nerves, but not today. Today, she felt like a person who’d been existing on caffeine—jittery and unable to concentrate.

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