Page 12 of Honkers Under the Holly

I thought about my perfectly color-coded sock drawer. About Sir Honksalot, who needed a real home with a real yard. But I wasn’t part of some boring settled couple. Unless...

Sometimes the craziest ideas are the ones that make the most sense.

“Excuse me,” I said to April, already moving toward Mac. He looked up as I approached, his face lighting up in a way that made my impulsive plan feel a little less insane.

“Sara Jayne,” one of the other players called out. “Jerry here was just telling us about the goose rescue. Man’s got game—on and off the field.”

Mac’s ears turned pink. “I was just explaining how Sir Honksalot’s social media presence could help shift public perception of Tommy’s... enthusiasm for fun.”

He looked so adorably professional, and smart, and not at all boring. Before I could overthink it, I grabbed his hand.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow my fiancé for a moment.”

Mac’s eyebrows shot up, but bless him, he didn’t miss a beat. Just squeezed my hand and smiled that smile that made my knees wobble.

“Of course, honey.”

As I pulled him away, I whispered, “I need you to trust me and play along, okay? I’ll explain everything later.”

Because if we could sell this, in the next two minutes before Magda’s assistant could come up with a solution, I think I could just solve both our housing slash pet goose problems.

“Does it involve a goose house? Because Tommy keeps sending me listings...”

“Even better.” I took a deep breath.

I practically dragged Mac toward where Magda and Jake stood on the terrace, my heart pounding louder than the jazz quartet playing inside. This was either brilliant or career suicide. Possibly both.

“Magda,” my voice came out an octave higher than intended. “I couldn’t help but overhear?—”

“Darling, eavesdropping is so gauche,” Magda said, but she was smiling. She knew she’d been freaking out in front of a lot of her guests.

“—and I just, well, Mac and I are exactly what you’re looking for.”

Mac’s hand tightened on mine. I could practically feel him trying to figure out what he was supposedly perfect for.

“You are?” Magda’s perfectly groomed eyebrows arched.

“We’re literally the most boring couple in L.A.,” I babbled. “Last Saturday night we spent three hours organizing his sports memorabilia by team, year, and player stats.”

I hoped that made sense, because I had no idea if what I’d said even made sense, or that he wouldn’t mind that I made that up right out of my butt.

“After alphabetizing her portfolio by clothing type,” Mac added smoothly, catching on that whatever this was, it involved proving our boringness. God, I could kiss him. Later. After he forgave me for whatever this was about to become.

“And the weekend before that?” I squeezed his hand.

“Comparison shopping for goose-safe cleaning products,” he said, not missing a beat. “Had to make spreadsheets.”

Jones laughed. “Sounds like you two are either perfect for each other or sharing a single personality.”

“How long have you been engaged?” Magda asked. She was probably wondering why I hadn’t mentioned it to her or had a ring on my finger. I needed to think fast.

I felt Mac’s tiny jerk of surprise, but he covered it by pulling me closer.

“Not long,” he said, which was technically true, since it had been approximately forty-five seconds. “I know I should have waited to get my grandmother’s ring to ask, but I didn’t want to wait.”

Whoa, he’d even covered why I wasn’t wearing a ring. He was anything but boring. In fact, his fast thinking was quite the turn on.

“It feels like we’ve known each other forever,” I added, which was also true, even if we’d only met at Oktoberfest.

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