Page 10 of Honkers Under the Holly

Sir Honksalot chose that moment to snatch Tommy’s phone again and made a break for it.

Tommy bolted after him, his voice echoing down the hallway. “Come back here, you feathered menace!”

Suddenly alone with Sara Jayne, I noticed how the late afternoon sun caught the gold highlights in her hair. She fiddled with her phone, not quite meeting my eyes.

“You hesitated,” she said softly. “When I mentioned the party. If you don’t want to go?—”

“No,” the word came out too quickly, too eagerly. Real smooth, Jerry. I took a breath and tried again. “I mean, I definitely want to go. With you. I just...” I ran a hand through my hair. “You’re this amazing model who gets invited to fancy parties, and I’m just a guy who spent his morning reorganizing baseball cards in his parents’ shop and making business plans on a color-coded spreadsheets.”

She looked up then, and something in her expression made my heart skip. “You know what I was thinking about during that whole photoshoot with Tommy and Sir Honksalot?”

“How my office needs redecorating?”

“How you didn’t hesitate at all at Oktoberfest, or to help me find a home for Sir Honksalot, or... anything else that needs to be helped or fixed.” She took a step closer. “When I went off acting before thinking, trying to catch a runaway goose, you just... jumped right in.”

“To be fair, you’re pretty impossible to say no to.”

“And now?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Instead of answering, I closed the distance between us and kissed her like I’d been wanting to for the past hour. Her lips were soft, tasting faintly of sweet lip gloss, and when I cupped her face in my hands, she made this tiny sound that nearly undid me completely. She wound her arms around my neck, pressing closer, and for a moment I forgot about everything—my housing crisis, the party, my struggling agency—everything except how perfectly she fit against me.

A loud honk and Tommy’s yelped “Ouch,” from the hallway broke the spell. Sara Jayne pulled back slightly, her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t unwrap her arms from my neck.

“So,” she said, a smile playing at her lips, “that’s a definite yes to being my date?”

“That’s a definite yes to everything,” I murmured, stealing one more quick kiss before Tommy returned, rubbing his ass, with a smirking goose trailing behind. Did geese smirk? This one did.

“Great.” Sara Jayne’s smile did funny things to my chest. “It’s at Magda’s estate in Beverly Hills. Very fancy, lots of important people.” She gathered up her things, then paused. “I can’t believe April de la Reine will be there. Magda said they met when April was about to give up on modeling. She took some kindof vacation to Colorado, and the rest is history, I guess. Well, history and seven kids.”

“A football player and a super-model,” I repeated, my mind spinning with possibilities. “That’s quite a power couple.”

“Magda says April’s been looking for fresh faces for her new clothing line’s campaign.” Sara Jayne bit her lip. “And Coach Kingman’s youth development camps are renowned for finding amazing up-and-coming talent.”

“Dude!” Tommy interrupted, finally retrieving his cap from Sir Honksalot. “This is perfect! You can pitch yourself as Chris’s future agent while Sara Jayne networks with April. It’s like... destiny, or whatever.”

“When did you become such a smarty smartpants?” I asked.

“Since Sir Honksalot taught me the power of the sneak attack strategy.” Tommy cradled the goose, who looked suspiciously smug. “And speaking of strategy, you better figure out what you’re wearing because Magda’s parties are legendary fashion fiestas. Last year’s theme was ‘Winter Wonderland’ and someone showed up riding a real reindeer.”

I made a face at him like I he was some kind of circus clown who’d just popped out of a car the size of his ass. “Wait, you’ve been to these?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Jones is my godfather.”

I gaped at him. Why did I not know he was related to the most legendary tight end in Bandit history? All I knew about was how cruddy his parents were.

Sara Jayne nodded. “This year it’s ‘Hollywood Holiday.’ Very glamorous, very festive.” She gave me a quick once-over that made my ears burn. “Need help shopping?”

“He needs help everything-ing,” Tommy muttered. “You should see his closet. Oh wait, you can’t, because he’s losing it.”

“What?” Sara Jayne turned to me, frowning.

I shot Tommy a look that promised revenge, possibly involving Sir Honksalot and his favorite shoes. “It’s nothing. Just... my parents are selling the shop. And the apartment above it. Before Christmas.”

“Before Christmas?” Sara Jayne’s eyes widened. “But that’s less than six weeks away. Where will you go?”

“There’s always Sir Honksalot’s luxury doghouse,” Tommy offered. “He’s got that heating lamp and everything.”

“I’m not living in a goose house,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time.

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