Page 28 of Holiday Hopefuls
“You know, pretend to date while I convince your family they’re crazy.”
Throwing a panicked gaze over her shoulder one way, then the other, that long ponytail barely misses slapping me square in the face. “Shh!” She glares back at me.
“What?”
“Could you please not say that so loud?”
“Which part?”
“Any of it.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. “Sorry, are you not still interested? You did come to see me, after all.”
“Everything okay, Callie?” the bartender asks her, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Oh, yeah.” She gives him a breathy laugh, waving him off. “He’s just a friend. But I’m fine.”
The bartender nods to her before setting a giant glass of water down in front of her and heading to the next patron.
I quirk a brow. “Just a friend, huh?”
Callie rolls her warm brown eyes, the same color as the light dusting of freckles coating her nose. “Look, Dr. Rhodes?—”
“You should really call me Oliver.”
“Dr. Rhodes?—”
“Is that how you’d introduce me to your family?” I ask, gaining far too much enjoyment from the lovely blush spreading over her cheeks.
“I mean, not if we … you know—” she sighs “—but we’re not. So it’s a non-issue.”
“Sorry, when did we decide we’re not? May I?” I nod to the water sitting in front of her. “John has a habit of ordering me beers that are a little too dark for my liking.” Callie hands over the water without a moment of hesitation. I waste no time taking a large swig before replacing it on the counter.
“I thought the flyer was a joke?” Callie crosses her arms as she leans the side of her frame into the bar.
I shrug. “Originally, yes.” Watching her every movement, I choose my words carefully. “But I think we could both benefit from it.”
She scrunches her tiny nose. “Both of us?”
“Yep,” I nod. “Thanksgiving. You come with me to my parents’ house and convince them I can have a steady relationship. In return, I’ll go to yours and fulfill the duties listed out on the poster. You introduce me as your serious boyfriend all while I use my professional training to your advantage.”
“I’d introduce you as my boyfriend,” she repeats, “and you’d basically convince them I’m really a functioning adult.”
“That everything they believe to be wrong with you is actually their doing,” I correct.
Skepticism coats each angelic feature of the woman’s face. “I have a hard time believing your family needs convincing of anything,” she finally says.
A laugh bursts from my chest. Her shock, punctuated by widening eyes, isn't lost on me. “My parents think I work too much. And neglect a love life for time spent with my dog.”
Callie brightens. “You have a dog?”
I nod. “Nacho.”
A musical giggle tumbles from her lips. “What a name.”
“She’s a golden retriever I rescued when she was just a baby. I can’t believe she’s three now.” A smile I didn’t even feel form widens. “My mom wanted me to name her something like Daisy. When my sister suggested Nacho, my mom begged for it to be anything else. And it just stuck,” I shrug.
Grinning, Callie shakes her head. “So, you’re quite the rebel, then?”
