Page 18 of Presley's Christmas Catch
I point a finger at her. “Careful what you wish for, Tatum.”
She lets out an amused scoff about the same time Lincoln opens his front door, steps out onto his porch, and calls, “Are you coming in?”
“Just a minute.” I wave him away. He notes that I’m on the phone and then goes back into his house, scooping up hisdaughter on the way in since she followed him out. Bells on a green Christmas wreath jingle as the door closes.
Presley’s cheeks have turned red when I look back at her. “I forgot. You’re doing dinner with Lincoln and Layla and their families. I’ll let you go.”
I don’t want our conversation to be over, but she’s right that I need to get inside. Especially because Lincoln’s going to read into this more than there is. He, Eli, and his cousin-in-law, Landon, think that every good relationship starts off with a friendship and so, naturally, my relationship with Presley must be something more.
“Enjoy your turkey and pie,” I say as a goodbye.
“You too.” She waves and hangs up quickly.
Sighing, I shove my phone in my pocket and climb up the steps to the front door. Since Lincoln was just out here and they’re expecting me, I tap on it and let myself in. The house smells like turkey and pie, and my stomach rumbles with anticipation. A big band version of “White Christmas” plays in the background. According to Lincoln, Layla starts with Christmas as soon as Halloween is over and Thanksgiving is just part of the Christmas season.
“Hey, Brock!” Layla greets me first as I walk into the decorated living room. As expected, the Christmas tree is up, sparking with blue and yellow lights, and all the ornaments football themed, which makes me grin. Layla sets down a bowl full of mashed potatoes on the long table in the dining area and then comes toward me, taking me by the shoulders to pull me down and kiss my cheek. “I’m so glad you could come,” she says when she steps away. “Great sweater,” she adds with a soft laugh.
“Thanks for having me.”
Lincoln invited me before he knew that my mom’s boyfriend, Kurtis, was taking her away for the weekend. Having the invitation helped Mom feel less guilty for going. She was so excited when she told me about Kurtis’s surprise. She’s texted twicesince the game, offering to meet me in Denver with dinner tonight, and I’ve assured her Lincoln will take good care of me.
Lincoln comes in with Margot still on his hip and pulls me into a one-armed hug. “Nice,” he says with a smirk at my sweater, and then adds, “Great game.”
I scoff.
“No, seriously.” He keeps a grip on me “Youhad a good game. You did everything you could.” He pats my shoulder reassuringly before dropping his hand.
“Except keep my mouth shut.”
Lincoln rolls his eyes. “Everyone’s thinking it. So you said it out loud.”
“That’s what Presley said.” Basically.
I can tell Lincoln likes the subject change by the way his smile spreads. “Oh, was that Presley on the phone?” He sounds so innocent, but he’s just waiting to share his opinions.
I reach for Margot to see if the one-year-old will come to me. I don’t see her often, and Lincoln says she’s going through a phase where she only wants Layla and Lincoln and sometimes her grandparents.
Like I expected, she snuggles into Lincoln’s side, and he kisses the top of her head. She does reach out to touch the still blinking lights of my sweater, small fingers brushing over them in curiosity before she pulls them back with a cautious look at me.
“No hard feelings,” I assure her, holding out a fist toward her with one hand and using my other to gently lift her fist to bump it. At least I get a smile out of her.
“What did Presley have to say about it?” Lincoln asks too casually, heading into the kitchen and picking up some plates with his free hand. I follow as well and grab the silverware that’s set out.
“We’re just friends, Linc,” I remind him.
He pauses at the table, eyeing me. “You found someone who’s as obsessed with those books as you, is beautiful andsuccessful, and who you like spending time with, and you’re not interested in pursuing it romantically?” His voice holds a stadium full of skepticism.
I think I would know if Presley was The One, the way Lincoln knew pretty much right away with Layla. The way my mom is all starry-eyed over Kurtis. How Tim and Meg still orbit around each other even after all these years. Their feelings are so obvious.
“It’s not like that. We’re friends,” I say. Lincoln puts down the plates and stares at me. “What?” I ask defensively. “Yeah, I like talking to her and spending time with her, but that’s it.”
He blinks at me and I shrug, a non-verbal repetition ofWhat?
“So what exactly are you looking for in a romantic partner, B?” He resumes placing the plates around the table, and I follow him, setting out forks, spoons, and knives. “Someone who’s hard to talk to and is kind of a pain to be around?”
I huff. “I don’t know how else to say it. It’s not like that with us.”
Lincoln looks at Layla, who’s putting turkey-printed napkins down on top of the plates. I like the laid-back vibe of this dinner. The settings are nice, but neither Lincoln nor Layla seem overly concerned about the setup. I’ll be happy to relax, eat good food, and hang out with his family.
