Page 2 of Presley's Christmas Catch
Okay, fine. Yes, I reread the whole series last year.
Heat dumps into my cheeks, and I wonder why Brock would fixate on this. Up against the black of my outfit, I didn’t think anyone would even notice it. Otherwise I would have chosen something a little more elegant for a wedding.
This necklacelookselegant, though. And I thought Aunt Shannon would have gotten a kick out of me wearing it to something like this.
Ugh, I miss her, and it’s stupid that Brock just asking about my necklace has tears stinging the backs of my eyes.
“My aunt gave it to me.” I move closer to him to be heard. My voice breaks a little, but I think that’s from having a conversation at high volume. I hope. “It’s from a book I like.” Books, actually. Fifteen of them.Shouldbe sixteen, but Gideon Thornridge has been silent on that subject for over ten years now.
Brock smirks.
And there I go again. That smile softens him so much—and, of course, makes me weak in the knees. Flashing it at me should be considered a dangerous weapon.
“The Obsidian Kingdom,” he says.
I blink rapidly in shock. Brock Hunter knows about The Obsidian Kingdom book series? No one knows about this book series. Not really.
His smile widens, and even if he was about to make fun of me for what might be a silly thing to still be obsessed with atnearly thirty years old, I wouldn’t even care. I’m telling you, this smile is the thing of legends.
“Let’s get something to drink,” he suggests, nodding toward the open bar.
I follow, unsure where this is going and how it relates to TOK, as us fans like to refer to the beloved series. All one hundred of us.
Is Brock Hunter one of those one hundred? I bite back amusement at the thought. Probably not, but maybe someone he knows.
I order a Coke from the bar since I’m not much of a drinker, and Brock follows suit, then leads me toward a table away from the dance floor, where it’s a lot quieter.
“I’ve read TOK about a dozen times,” he says when we stop at the table.
I nearly miss my chair as I move to sit down. Brock grabs my arm and keeps me up, all while steadying my Coke on the table. “Sorry,” I murmur, slipping into my chair. “I’m not really used to anyone knowing about TOK.” The fact that he’s read it as many times as I have convinces me more than anything that he’s the good guy Layla said he is.
“There are only a few of us,” he says dryly. His smile has faded, but amusement lines his expression.
I chuckle. “Very rare to stumble into another fan.”
He looks down at my necklace again, his lips turning up ever so slightly. “I read the first one for a middle school parent-kid reading thing.” His expression tenses the slightest bit and then relaxes. “Couldn’t help but read all the rest.”
I put my elbows on the table and lean forward. “Parent-kid reading thing?”
“Didn’t your school do something like that?” he asks. “You had to pick an adult to read a book with and discuss it? Then they had to sign a paper saying you’d done it for a grade.”
“Not that I can remember. But it sounds fun.” I’m seeing a little bit of the passion Layla was talking about. There’s excitementin his eyes that probably mirrors my expression—eagerness in finding someone to share something you love with. The football players I know—my dad, the team members I work with, especially the ones I can call friends—they’re all passionate about the sport they love.
He looks down at the table. “It was good for me,” he says in a low voice. I barely catch it with all the background noise, and I instinctively lean in closer then catch myself and sit back again. “How about you? How did you discover it?”
“My aunt bought the first one at a garage sale for me because she thought it looked like something I’d like.” I was really into fantasy books as a kid. Read all theFablehavenseries andPercy Jacksonand anything similar my library had. “I had to save all my babysitting money that summer to buy the rest of the series because my library didn’t have them. Did yours?”
He gives a short laugh. “No. I grew up in a tiny Wyoming town. A family friend bought them for me.” He shakes his head in a nostalgic way, a smile remaining. He’s warming up to me a little, I think. “He’s the one who suggested TOK,” Brock goes on, “though I don’t know how he came across it. Probably googled ‘books with battle scenes for angry teenage boys to let off steam’ or something.”
I snort. Are his outbursts off the field something he’s struggled with since he was younger? Maybe the family friend thought reading would simmer him down? I want to know more, and finding out that he’s read a series I’ve been obsessed with since I was a teen flicks to life the spark of a crush.
I can picture Aunt Shannon eyeing me teasingly. She loved to rib me about my crushes and how freely I admitted to them, small or big. She was my best friend, so we talked about everything. She was the same with me, especially once I was out of high school. She didn’t spare details about the men she dated, and when she met her boyfriend, Thomas, she confessed within days that she knew he was the one. She was practically vibrating with excitement the night she told me that they’d talked abouttheir future for the first time and that Thomas hadn’t been afraid to confess he knew they were headed for something serious.
Then her diagnosis took it all away.
I push those thoughts out, because tonight I am channeling the Aunt Shannon who wanted to find joy in every small moment, especially a few hours with a cute guy. “I heard there’s going to be a sixteenth book. Soon maybe,” I say.
Brock’s expression brightens. “Yeah. I read somewhere that it could even drop as a surprise this summer.”
