Page 37 of Merry Little Sugar Rush
I find myself reaching out and covering her gloved hand with my bare one. Even though the air is crisp and cold, I can feel the heat from her skin through the wool material. We both take a drink, neither moving our hands. It’s intimate, and maybe I shouldn’t do it right here in the middle of my family’s tree farm—a family who is no doubt watching us like hawks from cover somewhere.
“So, I have one more question for you,” she asks, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. Something tells me it’s not from the cold air either.
“Shoot.”
“Would you go with me? To their wedding?”
“Like a?—”
“Date,” she blurts out, cutting me off. “Yes, will you be my date for my sister’s wedding?”
“I’d love to.”
The apples of her cheeks redden even more as she grins and glances down. “I know it’s Christmas and all, but it shouldn’t take too long. Wedding at seven and then we’re having cake and whatnot afterward at my parents’ house.”
“I’d be honored to escort you, Easy-Bake.”
“Okay,” she replies, shifting in her seat. “Good. Great.”
Her nervousness is adorable as fuck.
“Is there a dress code for guests?” I ask, thinking about what I brought with me. I don’t have a suit, but I’d happily go purchase one if needed.
“The groom is going to wear jeans with a sport coat, and she wants all guests to be comfortable. Jeans and a button-down or sweater would be fine.”
“No ugly Christmas sweater?” I joke.
“Don’t give her any ideas!” she bellows with a laugh.
“I have nice jeans and a button-down with me. I’m sure I can borrow a tie from Gramps or Klint.”
She nods and reaches for her cup once more. We spend the next ten minutes chatting and enjoying our cocoa, and by the time the cups are empty, I know I need to get back to work. My fifteen-minute break is up.
“Thanks for letting me interrupt your workday,” she says, standing up and taking my empty cup to toss in the nearby trash can.
“Anytime. As long as I’m not super busy, I’ll take as much time as I can to visit.”
Taking her hand, I walk her to the lot where her car is parked. When we reach the driver’s door, I lean in and brush my lips across hers. I don’t look around to see if anyone is nearby orwatching. I don’t care. All I want is to steal a quick kiss before I get back to work.
Mission accomplished.
“What’sthis I hear about you kissing on the Campbell girl in the parking lot?”
I stop in my tracks the moment her words reach my ears. “You spying on me?” I tease, even though I’m sure it wasn’t Gram.
She just shrugs and continues to stir the amazing-smelling pot on the stove. “It doesn’t matter how I found out, just that I did.”
I bark out a laugh. “Was it Klint or Gretchen?”
“I’ll never tell,” she insists, smiling from ear to ear. “I’m glad you’re here. Dinner’s about ready.”
“What did you make?” I ask, heading in her direction to take a peek.
“White chicken chili.”
My stomach growls with no shame. I haven’t even been here a week yet, and already my pants are getting a little snug. “Sounds like heaven,” I tell her, grabbing two bowls out of the cabinet and placing them on the counter.
“Grab the sour cream and taco cheese out of the fridge,” she tells me as she pulls a bag of tortilla strips from the pantry.
