Page 71 of Stay this Christmas
Willa’s gaze narrowed until she looked far older than her six years. “Do you kiss? That’s how you know if you’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”
A couple of the parents closest to us in the crowded wagon looked away, trying to hide their sniggers. I’d had a pretty good run with the kids tonight—only fitting that Willa would smash it all with some public inquisition.
Harper shifted, putting the tiniest space between us, but I told myself she was just trying to get more comfortable on the hay bale. She didn’t step up to say weweren’tboyfriend and girlfriend, so I marked that up as an overall win.
And yeah, fully aware I was a twenty-eight-year-old man wondering if the woman I cared about and had kissed senseless the night before could be called my girlfriend yet.
“You can’t just ask people if they kiss,” I told Willa. “It’s not appropriate.”
Maybe a plea for decorum mixed with the dad voice would get me out of this. Considering who I was making my plea to…probably not.
Willa’s eyebrows tugged together. “You’re not people, you’re my brother.”
“He means you’re embarrassing him,” Finn said from her other side. “You’re an embarrassment.”
“You’re not an embarrassment,” I told her, shooting Finn a hard look. “And I’m not embarrassed. But kissing isn’t really wagon-talk.”
“That means they kiss,” Finn said, and they both giggled.
Okay, so much for decorum.
Willa got up on her knees and leaned in until her face hit my ear as we went over another bump. “I like her,” she whispered.
“I like her, too,” I whispered back.
She sat down again, grinning like mad at Harper before finally focusing her goldfish-like attention back on the Christmas decorations on Center Street.
I risked a glance at the woman still snuggled against my side. Her smile hit like Christmas crackerspop-pop-poppingin my chest. Only the threat of more interrogation from Willa kept me from kissing Harper again right then and there, and setting everyone straight about whether or not she was my girlfriend.
TWENTY-TWO
sam
The chimesover Dogeared’s doors rang as our little group barreled through. We’d managed to survive the rest of the wagon ride with no further talk of kisses or girlfriends, and the kids didn’t even mention boogers once. Dad and Ava would be here soon, and the kids’ clothes had come through the night unscathed. Might as well start doing my victory dance in the end zone now.
First thing I noticed in the store was Dogeared’s owner, Miles, standing at the register. His thick-framed glasses and red cardigan gave off Mr. Rogers vibes, but he appeared one hundred percent healthy. Next came my sister’s defiant look, one hip jutting out as if to demonstrate how unapologetic she was. Finally, the realization I’d been set up.
Scheming sisters everywhere could learn a thing or two from mine.
“Georgia!” Both kids ran up to tackle her in a hug.
She laughed, holding them hard for a second. “Did you have fun seeing Santa?”
“Samuel said he was the really real Santa,” Willa told her.
Georgia shot a look of shock my way, her face comically contorted. “Did Samuel say that?”
From her surprise, she must have figured I’d blab about the true nature of Santa. Didn’t love she thought I’d ruin their childhoods that way.
“I can’t wait to see my doll,” Willa said dreamily.
“What did you think, Finn? Was he the real Santa?”
Finn shrugged. “His beard was real.”
For thinking only his beard was real, the kid had been pretty sincere when he explained exactly the type of video game system he wanted to find under the tree.
“Let’s get you two set up with hot cocoas while you wait for Dad and Ava.” Georgia took two ceramic mugs from Miles and led them to an empty table.
