Page 4 of How He Got the Girl
“No,” her family responds in unison.
I purse my lips. Well, okay then. “I’ll be sure to thank youifwe get married.”
Daisy smiles, as if satisfied with my response.
Although I’d never admit it out loud, hope swells inside of me for what could be—which is crazy, because I’m not the kind of girl who believes in love at first sight or soulmates.
But what I do know for certain is this: tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
IfthereisaGuinness World Record for the world’s biggest idiot, I’d gladly accept the title.
I rub my eyes as if I can magically erase the memory of what I did last night. Unfortunately, I didn’t wake up with wizarding powers, and the vision is still seared in my brain.
I may as well wait for the Easter Island heads fromNight at the Museumto show up and call me a dum-dum. It’s not like I don’t deserve it.
My only defense is that I thought her family sounded so professional while caroling that they sang to collect donations for charitable causes. I understand now how that logic wasn’tlogicing. But I was so wrapped up in the beautiful woman in front of me that I couldn’t focus on anything besides her eyes—like looking into her cup before dropping a handful of change into it.
I feel awful that I burned her hands. Hopefully, the snow I pressed on them was enough to help. And I pray that the hot chocolate I’m buying her today will make up for everything.
My fingers pull at the bottom of my bomber jacket as I wait for her to arrive. I glance at my watch—it’s 1:12. Maybe she’s standing me up.
Isuppose I deserve that after burning her.
The bell above the door chimes, and my head whips in that direction. Nothing can hold back the smile on my face as I watchherwalk in. There’s a slight flush on her cheeks, and her soft curls are tousled, both evidence of the harsh winter wind. But I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful or captivating than her.
She spots me and lifts her hand in a small wave before making her way to me at the table near the register. “Sorry that I’m late. Linda hates the snow, so I had to wait for my friend to drop me off.”
“It’s not a problem.” I smile good-naturedly. “Dare I ask who Linda is?”
She shakes her head, sending her wild waves fluttering around her face. “Linda’s my car.”
“You named your carLinda?”
“Yeah, because she never listens.” Her lip quirks up at the corner, and her eyes take on a playful glint.
I stare at her blankly. Am I missing some kind of joke?
Her mouth falls open. “You’ve never seen the ‘Listen Linda’ video?” When I shake my head, she pulls out her phone. “It has millions of views—you have to see it.”
She passes me her phone, and I watch a video of a young boy telling his mom—Linda—to listen. I laugh, handing her phone back as a 10 percent battery warning pops up.
“Do you see why I named her Linda now? I adore my girl, but she loves to not work at the most inopportune times, even when I sweet-talk her.”
I chuckle. “You sweet-talk your car?”
“You don’t?” She raises a brow.
“I can’t say I ever have.” I run my hands across my stubbled chin. “But I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”
When we reach the counter, I gesture for her to talk to the cashier, but she steps to the side. “Order for me,Griffie?” The playfulness in her tone mixed with the steely look in her eye only pulls me further into her orbit.
I can already feel the power this girl has over me, and I’m in trouble.
Deep, deep trouble.
“Of course,” I grunt, sounding like some kind of caveman. Who even am I? Next thing I know, I’ll be pounding my chest and throwing her over my shoulder as I carry her to a table. Turning to the cashier, I say, “We’ll take your hot chocolate flight and one signature hot chocolate, please.” I give them my name and pay.
“A hot chocolate flight?” Her eyes are wide with excitement as we walk to a table near the window and settle into our seats.
