Page 33 of Holiday Hopefuls
“Nope. Ira and Lillian were too busy toting around the four other high-achieving Rutherford kids to their many activities. And scholastic events.”
Oliver blinks. “Well, that speaks volumes.”
“What about your family?” I ask. “Oh, and I guess you should call me Callie. Especially since everyone else does. But, I guess my boyfriend most definitely would.”
He smirks. “Not Calloway?”
Rolling my eyes, I groan. “Donotcall me that.”
“Why not? Might be a little, well, formal for you. But it is your name.”
“Way too formal,” I say, scrunching my nose. “Y’know, stuffy.”
He rolls full lips in, considering this. Finally, he nods. “Callie, then.” He tests the nickname, causing heat to lick the tips of my ears.
“You’ve been, uh, still calling me Ms. Rutherford.” My strange excuse of an explanation has me working to not face palm myself. I settle for taking another swig of molten chocolate. Gotta balance that salad.
Curious eyes roam my features before a glorious smile settles on his movie star face. “You never told me I could.” He shrugs. “I didn’t want to assume.”
Wiping my mouth, I give a flourish with my free hand. “So … your family?”
“Oh,” he says, as though he forgot they were even part of this equation. “Right. They’re definitely a whole different ballgame than yours.”
Feigning shock, I throw a hand to my chest, strategically covering the cocoa stain. “You mean to tell me that they’re not extraterrestrial overlords whose society is teeming with cats ready to pee all over your plants at a moment's notice?”
“Shocking, I know,” he deadpans. But those eyes sparkle as he suppresses a grin. “But, no, my family is super close.”
“Must be nice,” I grumble, much to his amusement.
Oliver chuckles, pulling something else from the paper takeout bag. “It—what?” He blinks rapidly. “Did you change your mind?” he winces. Then he notices what I can only assume is the drool forming in the corner of my mouth.
“What is that amazing smell?” I don’t even care that my eyes are probably the size of a circus Big Top. Whatever is coming from Oliver’s bag can only be a gift from the gods.
The beautiful man blushes furiously, pulling a small Ziplock bag of cookies from their hiding place. With only a moment of hesitation, he holds them out to me. “I made them. Chocolate chip and oatmeal. I’d love to share them with you, if you’d like.” Without waiting for an answer, Oliver opens the bag and hands one over.
One bite is all it takes. “Well, I think I’m in love,” I sigh.
Laughter bursts from his lips. “Is that so?” he asks around his own bite of cookie.
“Yep,” I nod. “In fact, go ahead and warn your family that we’re headed down the aisle any day now.” Swallowing, I narrow my gaze. “Okay, but really, Rhodes. If you can bake like that, why on earth are you still single?”
“Why are you?” he shoots back. But not until he’s handed me another.
“My last name, it takes care of scaring away anyone I’d be interested in. Not to mention, I grew up here. Everyone knows who my family is”—I shake my head—“and anybody would probably have to be crazy to upset them. Which is what would happen if I chose someone they didn’t approve of.”
“Well, I don’t.”
My brows knit together. “Don’t what?”
“I don’t know who your family is. My family only moved here when my sister was a senior in high school.” Oliver shrugs. “So, frankly, I don’t care if I upset them or not.” He grins.
“Will your family be mad?” I whisper, looking down at the half-eaten cookie in my hand.
He considers this. “They won’t love the idea of being lied to if they find out. But they just think I work too much and need to settle down. Unlike your family, who just sound cruel and dismissive.”
“Doyou work too much?”
Oliver looks over to the photo collage of Ian, Aaron, and I for inspiration. He must not find any since he frowns before returning his gaze to mine. “When I was in grad school, I witnessed some gross misconduct. And I swore that, when I was finally in a position to do so, I would only be a positive influence on those that came to me for help.”
