Page 46 of Catch Yourself a Snowmance
Alyssa shakes her head at me. She’s been trying to get the details of our date out of me all week. I’m determined to surprise her. After all, it’s Valentine’s Day.
And, yes. The guys have been having the time of their lives at my expense, teasing me about how my priorities have shifted over the past two months. Last year, I had no clue it was Valentine’s. When Liam refused to make plans with the three of us so he could take Noelle out, I actually pouted, saying something along the lines of,we never see you anymore now that you have a girlfriend. Ah, how the mighty fall.
“Let me just get my coat,” Alyssa says.
I step into her house, following her to the coat rack in her foyer and taking the coat off the hook for her. I hold it open and she slips her arms into the sleeves. Then I spin her around and place a soft kiss on her lips, careful not to smudge her lipstick.
“I’m so lucky,” I tell her, remembering the advice Liam gave me before Christmas on our last morning at the cabin.
I’ve lived up to it the best I can, always telling Alyssa how I feel, reminding her how special she is to me, never leaving room for her to guess or wonder.
“We’re lucky,” she corrects me. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me where we’re going?”
“I’m sure. It’s a surprise. And you told me you like surprises.”
“I do. You’re right. Thank you for remembering.”
I hold the door open and Alyssa walks past me, the scent of her perfume wrapping around me.
“You smell good.”
“All these compliments will get you everywhere,” she teases me.
The drive from Waterford to Franklin takes an hour and a half. I hand over the reins, telling Alyssa she can pick all the songs. She’s got great taste in music. We talk about work, what we did all day, and sometimes we sing along to a song she picks.
“You don’t have to sing,” she teases me. “You could hum.”
“Ahhh. That’s a low blow.”
She smiles over at me. “I’m kidding. You can sing.”
“I totally can’t, so I shouldn’t.”
Her hand falls on my forearm, a gentle touch. “I like it when you sing, Carson. Even if it’s not ever going to make it on a record.”
“Trust me. It’s totally not. Can you imagine?” I chuckle. “You, however …”
“I’m never going to be on a record.”
“You could. You totally could.”
Alyssa shakes her head. It’s not even false modesty. As good as she is, she doesn’t always agree to sing in front of others. She’s not embarrassed, just private, and sometimes nervous. But when those nerves leave her, she gets lost in the song and there’s nothing like it. She has a voice that stops people in their tracks. A voice that shoots straight to the soul.
“You’re heading toward Nashville,” Alyssa says about halfway through the drive.
“Sort of. We’re not going to Nashville.”
“No?”
“No. Just outside Nashville a little.”
“Hmmm.” She taps her finger on her chin and looks over at me with a playfully inquisitive spark in her eyes. “Hendersonville?”
I shake my head. “Mount Juliet?”
“Nope.”
“Columbia? Though that’s a little far, right?”
