Page 23 of Emma and the Elf Next Door

“Yes.” My answer is immediate, and I feel another blush creeping up my cheeks.Way to play it cool, man.

“OK.” She blinks and smiles widely. “Then, I guess I’ll see you then. 1p.m.?”

I nod. “I’ll bring dessert.”

Emma stands, brushing at the wrinkles on her dress before locking eyes with me. Eyes that are twinkling with delight.

“Dessert sounds perfect. I’ll see you then. Goodnight, Noah.”

I stand and watch her walk back into her house without a backwards glance, before flopping back into my camping chair with a thump when she’s out of sight.

Well, that was something. And now I have a date to spend Christmas lunch with the most beautiful girl in the world.

This may turn into the merriest Christmas I’ve ever had, and it’s all because of the girl—the Grinch—next door.

CHAPTER 11

Emma

“He’s coming over for Christmas lunch,” I tell my best friend instead of a ‘hello’ or you know, ‘Merry Christmas’, when she answers my face call.

“He’s what?!” Carly screeches through the screen, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. I think I’ve woken her up.

“Shhh!” I point the phone camera to where the wall is lurking, as thin and porous as paper, apparently.

“If you don’t want him hearing this, then take me somewhere else.”

I hurry out of the kitchen, close my bedroom door behind me, and walk into my wardrobe, shut that door behind me, then slump to the ground.

Better.

“Tell me everything,” Carly demands, awake and on high alert now, her eyes shining with excitement.

“He’s British.” I don’t know why that’s where I’ve chosen to start, after everything that happened during our impromptu picnic—he made me a picnic!—but I’m stuck on it. When Noahspeaks in that accent, it’s all I can do to hold myself back from just launching at him.

“Shut your mouth!”

I giggle and nod. “He sounds like Prince Harry.”

“Marry him.”

I laugh louder at her antics, knowing she’s only half joking. We’re both obsessed with Prince Harry.

“I know, right? Prince Harry is the best…”

“The way he loves Meghan Markle…”

“He’s so protective…”

We go off on a tangent for several more minutes before Carly collects her thoughts, pulling us back to the here and now.

“OK, so we’ve established he’s British. What else?”

My cheeks hurt from smiling as I detail everything that happened after I dropped off the bottle of wine.

“I can’t believe this,” she sighs when I’m done. “The last I heard from you was that all men suck and you were becoming a nun.”

I wince at my dramatics. “Well, he took an entire hour to respond to my invitation. I thought he was rejecting me.”

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