Page 13 of Honkers Under the Holly

Magda studied us, head tilted. “And you’re living...?”

“You know the girls at the flat aren’t exactly goose-friendly,” I blurted out.

“I was just telling Sara Jayne,” April said, appearing beside us with a fancy bottle of water in one hand and several more bacon-wrapped dates in the other. “They have that natural chemistry you can’t fake. Did you know Mac gave up a career in professional football and started his own sports agency just so he could help other players make it to the big time? That’s the kind of stability you’re looking for, Magda.”

I looked at Mac, surprised. He hadn’t told me that was why he’d become an agent. His ears turned pink again, but he held my gaze with a softness that made my chest tight.

“The guest house has a perfect yard for our bright, new celebrity Sir Honksalot,” Jones mused. “You should sign him to your roster, sweetheart.”

“You’re serious?” Magda looked between us. “About house-sitting?”

“Completely,” I said, then rushed ahead before I lost my nerve. “We’re both at turning points in our careers, trying to be taken seriously. The last thing we want is parties or drama. Just a quiet place to build our future together.” I looked up at Mac, silently pleading with him to back my play. “Right, honey?”

He brushed a kiss against my temple, so tenderly it almost felt real. “Nothing would make me happier.”

Magda threw up her hands. “Jones, darling, call my assistant back and tell her we found someone. Sara Jayne, I’ll have her draw up the paperwork tomorrow.” She narrowed her eyes. “But if I come back to find my mother’s vase in pieces...”

“The only parties we’ll be having will involve spreadsheets and color-coding,” Mac promised.

As Magda and Jake moved away to handle the details, I finally dared to look at Mac properly. “I can explain?”

His lips twitched. “So, about that future we’re building together...”

“They needed boring, responsible people, and we’re the most well, we’re kind of responsible people, aren’t we? Plus, you need a place to live, I need a place for Sir Honksalot, and...” I bit my lip. “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” He grinned. “I just got engaged to the most beautiful woman at the party. Though we might need to discuss your definition of boring, because I’m pretty sure spontaneously fake-engaging yourself to someone counts as adventure sports.”

The rest of the party passed in a blur of increasingly elaborate stories about our boring lifestyle. By the time we made it out of the party, I’d convinced half of L.A.’s elite that Mac and I spent our date nights comparing tax software, and he’d somehow worked our mutual passion for proper document filing into every conversation.

“I particularly enjoyed the story about our first kiss happening over a shared label maker,” I said as we slid into the back seat of our the car Magda provided to take us home.

“Hey, that could have happened.” He caught my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “Though I think I prefer the real version.”

The memory of that kiss in his office made my cheeks warm. “Mac, about all this... I know it’s crazy?—”

“Sara Jayne.” He turned to face me, his expression serious but soft. “You just solved both our housing problems, saved Sir Honksalot from eviction, and somehow managed to make my complete inability to be cool work in my favor. You’re either a genius or completely insane, and I’m good with either option.”

“Maybe a little of both?” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “I mean, what kind of person pretends to be engaged to someone they’ve only been dating for two weeks?”

“The kind of person who jumps into the beer-soaked fray at Oktoberfest to rescue a stranger’s goose?”

“Fair point.”

My phone buzzed with a text from Tommy.

Just heard the “news” from three different people. Congrats on the engagement, you crazy kids. Sir Honksalot says it’s about time.

The message was accompanied by a photo of our goose wearing a bowtie that perfectly matched Mac’s.

Mac peered at the screen. “Should we be worried that Tommy’s spending his Saturday night dressing up our goose instead of at the actual party with us?”

“Our goose?” I looked up at him.

His ears turned pink, and he gave me the cutest slightly sheepish smile that made my insides go a little squishy. “Well, we are engaged now. What’s mine is yours, including joint custody of a partially reformed delinquent waterfowl.”

I couldn’t help it, I started giggling. After a moment, Mac joined in, and soon we were both laughing so hard the driver probably thought we were crazy. Maybe we were.

“Six weeks,” I managed finally, wiping tears from my eyes. “In a mansion.”

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