Page 19 of Perfectly Complicated
“I don’t know.” I shift Rosie to my other side. “I’ll figure something out. Eventually a hotel room will open up. Or there’s always my car.”
She frowns. “You can’t sleep in your car.”
“It’s not ideal, but—it’s only temporary, right?”
“Here, let me take that,” Jaz says, grabbing the garlic bread and lasagna from Janie as she and Brax go to the kitchen, leaving us alone.
She looks at me holding Rosie again, like she can’t believe I would even touch a baby. “You’re good with her.”
“Beginner’s luck,” I say, lifting a shoulder lazily.
“I don’t think so.” She tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear. “You have big plans for the weekend?”
“Trying to stay out of Brax and Jaz’s way.”
She bites her lip. “You could always tag along with me. I actually have a babysitter for the day.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To the Santaville Christmas Festival. It’s a long drive, but totally worth it.”
“A Christmas festival?” My voice goes flat. “So you can make me like Christmas.”
“No, but it might be useful to get inspiration for the script. If you happen to catch some Christmas spirit, that’ll just be a bonus.”
“Sounds like torture,” Ideadpan.
“No, Rourke, it sounds like fun.” Her chin lifts slightly. “Unless you’re scared you might actually enjoy it?”
I keep my gaze locked on hers. “I’m not scared of Christmas, Bennett.”
“Then come with me and see if this inspires you.” I can see she’s up to something—like she’s already plotting out her diabolical plan to reform me.
“I don’t know, Bennett,” I say, rocking Rosie. “According to you, I might ruin Christmas.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
I lift an eyebrow skeptically. “Really?”
“Okay, fine. Maybe I did.”
She has the decency to look a little guilty.
“I just want you to find something about it that’s tolerable,” she says. “One thing.”
“Nothing about Christmas is tolerable.”
“Come on.” She tilts her head, giving me a sweet, hopeful look that’s far too effective. “At least do it for the kids.”
“Sure.” I laugh in disbelief. “This is all about the kids.”
“Are you afraid my Christmas spirit might rub off on you?”
I don’t answer right away, because maybe I’m more afraid thatJaniewill rub off on me—in ways that have nothing to do with Christmas spirit.
She crosses her arms. “Well, the least you could do is try to win the matching donation. The school could really use the funds.”
“There’s no guarantee of that. And going to Santaville won’t make me a Christmas fanatic, just so you know.”
