Page 27 of Holiday Hopefuls
I may as well be under a microscope with how hard my friends are staring at me. My face flames, but I employ every facility to ignore it. “I mean, she never actually asked me anything.” Based on all the blinks I’m receiving, I’m doing a splendid job of explaining myself. Sighing, I try again. “She got there and, from what I gathered, Mrs. Lanahan was trying to get her to make an appointment when I came in. Callie tried to leave when Mr. Klosten arrived and bumped into her, dumping her purse contents all over the floor, including the flyer, which I found. When we got back to my office, I asked if her family was truly bad enough that she’d come looking for what the paper offered.”
John snorts. “If the brother we saw tonight is any indication, the answer is yes.”
“Yeah, well, she didn’t really give an actual answer. Just something about them having their challenges.”
“Talk about an understatement.” Rindy elbows her wife. “I mean, yeesh.”
“So,” John sends his sister a playful warning, “how did you leave it?”
“She ran out of my office, man.”
“Okay, that’s not great.” He nods. “But that explains why she pretended not to know you tonight.” Yeah, that wasn’t my best work.
Running a hand through my hair, I watch with an annoying amount of nerves as the three look between themselves. “What?” I ask wearily. Though I’m not sure I really want to know the answer.
It’s like they’re holding council among themselves. It’s unnerving.
“I think you should do it.” If Rindy didn’t have that look she gives each and every patient, I’d think she was kidding.
I snort. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, what’ve you got to lose?” she presses. “And you could always just agree to Thanksgiving. That would give you both an out in case it’s too weird.”
“You know,” John starts, a little too slowly for my liking, “the poster’s message was one-sided.”
“But?”
“But”—he hesitates again—“what if it was reciprocal?”
Jo and Rindy both look a little too excited at that particular prospect.
“What, like she comes to my family’s Thanksgiving, too?” I am now all too aware that the music has stopped and wonder what, if anything, anyone listening in would think our group is discussing.
“Yes, Oliver. That’s exactly what that means.” He waits for me to process before continuing, “Think about it. It would help you get your folks to cool it for a bit.”
“Which is apparently how all this started,” Jo laughs. “I think it’s perfect.”
Rindy nods in the direction of the bar. “Look, she’s over at the bar. Just go talk to her.” She shrugs. “If anything, it’ll be great entertainment for us.”
“Lovely,” I grumble, since I don’t really want to admit that I already knew Callie had gone to the bar, and was being watched by no less than two potential suitors.
John makes a shooing motion.
Rolling my eyes, I push back from the table, a half-full glass in hand. I weave through the throngs of sweaty people waiting to be served and step right up behind her. She hasn’t noticed me yet and man, does that make me feel like a creep. Blythe always says she prefers when a guy announces himself so she’s not startled. Since I don’t have a fancy man in a robe and scepter to proclaim my arrival, I stick with clearing my throat.
Callie doesn’t so much as look up from her phone, but a young man about her age standing next to her does. Cutting a judgmental gaze my way, the guy tries to puff his chest to stake his claim. Pulling out my withering glare, it doesn’t take long for him to scramble away with his fresh drink.
I don’t waste any time taking the open space next to her.
Fully engrossed in looking at pictures of strange plants on her phone, she goes on unaware of my presence.
Here goes nothing. “I noticed you didn’t say that I could call you Callie.”
She freezes, thumb mid-scroll.
“Of course, I’m happy to call you whatever you’d like,” I continue, “but if we do this, I should probably call you something less formal.”
Delicate ruby brows knit together as Calloway Rutherford turns my way. How does a human being smell like chocolate and sweat? “If we do what?”
