Page 12 of Fake Christmas Date
He’s exactly the kind of man who would be perfect in my life.
8
DYLAN
Waking up with Emma still sleeping in my arms fills me with a deep satisfaction I've never experienced before. What is it about this incredible woman? Part of her sexiness is that she doesn’t realize how sexy she is. It’s charming as hell.
I probably should have waited at least a few more days before touching her like that last night, but I just couldn't resist. Still, I get the sense that Emma lives in the here-and-now and doesn’t care about what might be considered normal.
Gazing down at her sleeping face, I love how much she trusts me already. How she's excited and prepared to have fun here, even though I'm the only person she knows.
My fingers lightly sweep a few strands of hair from her face as I study her angelic features.
She's the one. I don't know how I know this in my body and my soul, but I do. It's just a fact.
Somehow, I'll find a way to put this feeling into words and tell her soon. Damn, I hope she's on the same page. But for today, I need to fill my sweet girl with all of the holiday cheer Holly Valley has to offer.
I shower quickly, then head to the kitchen. Dad hands me a mug of coffee. "What are your plans for today?" he asks.
“Think I'm going to take my girl out on the town. Start with a giant breakfast at Edna's Coffee Shop. Then a nice, long country drive past the McHolm Farms snowman.”
"I assume you'll take her to the town Christmas tree to make a wish, too?"
"Of course." I look up to see Dad giving me a very strange look. "What?"
"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. I just… I hope you'll wish to hang onto that sweet girl. She's really lovely, son."
"I know. That's why I brought her here."
Dad looks me dead in the eye, and I freeze. He's always been able to see right through me. It doesn't work with my younger brother Josh, but Dad has always been able to tell when I'm not being one hundred percent truthful with him.
He doesn’t call me on anything, though, just nods. “Your mother and I are going out visiting tonight, so you two will have the place to yourselves." He sighs, shaking his head. “We're going to her friend Molly's place for that special mulled cider she makes every year. I'll be sticking to coffee since I’ll be driving, but I apologize in advance if your mother stumbles in shrieking with laughter as she tends to do this time of year."
I chuckle, nearly spilling my coffee. "Why is it that she'smymotherinstead ofyourwifewhen she's being loud?"
Dad glares at me, then bursts out laughing. "I think you'll find out soon enough, son." He claps me on the shoulder, then pauses. "Yes… I really hope that you find out sooner rather than later." He grabs a tray from the counter to bring Mom her coffee and muffin in bed upstairs.
That's the kind of relationship I want. Thoughtful. Loving. Kind. Still fun after decades together.
I’m already convinced that Emma is the one. But I know she’s nervous, and might not yet trust in something that began so strangely.
Would telling Emma I'm falling in love with her while we're here be taking advantage of the Holly Valley Christmas magic?
9
EMMA
By the third loop through town with my nose pressed to the window, I feel like a toddler seeing Christmas trees for the first time.
In a way, I feel like I'm seeing everything for the first time, being with Dylan. It's the first time I've ever been in a relationship with a man. The first time I’ve felt completely accepted by someone's family. Extended family. Even neighbors.
My goodness – Miriam's next-door neighbor had come rushing over this morning to make sure I had enough winter clothing in my size and asked if I wanted to borrow some extra mittens or a thicker coat.
Dylan drives his parent’s Jeep slowly past the main park again. "I'll go around the other side this time, so nobody thinks we're stalking them," he jokes.
He's been so patient with me, and so excited to show off all of the holiday delights Holly Valley has to offer. Like the incredible bakery. And the enormous town Christmas tree. Apparently it's tradition that everyone writes their Christmas wish down on a strip of paper, stuffs it into an ornament, then goes up in a cherry picker to hang it on the tree.
My stomach is still fluttering, remembering how tightly Dylan held onto me while we were up there. Mr. Douglas, the cherry picker operator, had politely looked the other way when we almost kissed. The only thing that stopped us was that it felt like everyone within a mile was staring.
