Page 44 of Guys Can't Write Romance
“Ha! Called it.” Chad reached for another cookie, but Daisy quickly yanked the plate away and shot him a scolding look she would normally give one of her first-grade boys who taped a girl’s hair to her desk.
“Cookies are only for students who behave.”
Chad folded his hands in his lap. “Okay. I’ll behave, Miss Fields.”
“You’d better,” she said, holding the plate over so he could grab another cookie. “Otherwise, I’m making you write an essay on the importance of small-town festivals in romance.”
“There’s a festival in this one too?” he said.
She quickly yanked the plate away before he could grab a cookie.
Chad coughed to clear his throat. “I mean, of course there’s a small-town festival in this one. Every romance needs a small-town festival. Right?”
She inched the plate back within his reach, and he quickly grabbed a cookie before she changed her mind again. “See how this works?” she said with a sly grin.
“Yup,” Chad said, shoving the cookie in his mouth. “Let’s play the movie,” he mumbled through a mouthful of cookie.
Daisy smiled despite herself. She put the plate back on the table and pressed the ‘play’ button on the remote.
As the movie began, establishing shots of a quaint, snow-covered town filled the screen. Gentle, tinkling Christmas music played in the background as the camera panned down a main street decorated with garlands and twinkling lights.
Chad managed to behave through the opening credits before jumping back in as soon as the male lead walked into a hardware store. “Let me guess, he’s a workaholic real estate developer who’s about to learn the true meaning of Christmas?”
“If you don’t stop talking, I’m switching to ‘Happy Valley Wedding’.”
“What’s that one about?”
“A dog that’s a wedding planner.”
Chad shot her a look of disbelief. “You’re serious?”
“Yup.”
“How does a dog plan weddings?”
“Do you want to find out?”
Chad shook his head. “Nope. We can stick with the workaholic real estate developer.”
“Then, shush.”
“Shushing,” Chad said, mimicking pulling a zipper shut across his lips.
As the movie resumed, Daisy was surprised to see Chad settle back on the couch and actually start watching it.
The female protagonist, Emma, appeared on screen, rushing through New York City in stylish winter attire, clutching a coffee and talking on her phone about deadlines and presentations.
“City girl trope,” Chad commented, as if making field notes on a wildlife documentary. “Natural habitat: overcrowded coffee shops and glass office buildings.”
Daisy shot him a warning look but didn’t pause the movie. Ten minutes in, Emma received a mysterious letter informing her she had inherited her grandmother’s inn in a small town called Pine Ridge.
“And cue the reluctant journey home,” Chad murmured, quickly snatching a cookie before Daisy could yank the plate away again.
But rather than make a move for the plate, Daisy shot him a curious look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Nope,” Chad said, though he was now leaning forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Just analyzing it. Doing my research.”
“Uh-huh.”
