Page 58 of Christmas at Valentine Inn

Patrick took my hand, curling his warm fingers around my cold ones, nonverbally saying this absolutely was meant to be. Really, he and George were bosom buddies. Oh, that George was still going to hear it from me.

With a deep exhale that played into the cold winter air, we trekked toward the rink, which was hopping like it was 1987 and Bon Jovi ruled the airwaves. We had almost made it when dirtbag Dave appeared out of nowhere like a demon from hell. The man never wore a coat, even though it was below freezing. It made me believe he truly was a friend of Satan. I hoped his slicked-back, greasy hair froze.

“Well, well, look at the happy family,” Dave oozed. “You almost have me sold. Almost.”

I flashed him the deadliest glare I had in my arsenal of nasty glares. “No one is selling you anything.”

“Maybe someone should sell you some deodorant.” Rory waved his hand in front of his face. “You reek, dude.”

Rory was my kind of kid. I couldn’t help but laugh.

Dave sneered at us. “You think you’re all so funny. You won’t be laughing when I call your bluff and tell the world what’s really going on here.”

“And what’s that?” Patrick let go of my hand and stepped closer to the foul man in a threatening manner.

Dave wasn’t intimidated at all. “Only that the wedding of the decade will be happening on Christmas Eve.”

“That has a nice ring to it. What do you say, darling, should we put that on our announcements?” Patrick asked.

I liked how Patrick called medarling.

“Are you an idiot? That’s what they’re calling Charlotte and Drake’s wedding,” Dave spluttered.

“How do you know it’s the wedding of the decade?” Patrick deadpanned.

Thank you!That’s what I’ve been saying.I guess Patrick and I were meant to be.

“I don’t care what it’s called.” Dave was getting irritated. “All I know is, it’s happening, and I’m going to prove it.”

“Like I stated before, be my guest. You’re the one who’s going to look like a fool,” I said, with conviction and a straight face. I was kind of impressed with myself.

“Excuse us now—I’d like to get my family inside where it’s warm.” Patrick pushed past the man as we followed.

“Just so you know, I checked to see if you had a wedding license. I didn’t see one,” Dave called out.

I stilled, my heart beating out of control. What a weasel.

Patrick whipped around. “We were only waiting for a replacement social security card to arrive. Now that it has, we will be taking care of that next week. Perhaps you would like to come. We would love for it to be documented.” Patrick was good at this. So good, I couldn’t wait to reward him privately. Maybe I would get the old karaoke machine out and sing him a sexy little tune.

Dave’s jaw dropped but he quickly recovered. “I would love to be there.”

“Perfect. We’ll see you then.” Patrick’s eyes bored into him, wishing him into oblivion.

Meanwhile, I was kind of hyperventilating knowing I had to get a marriage license next week. This fake engagement was becoming a little too real. Sure, I wanted to date Patrick—and more than likely marry him in the future. I knew we didn’t have to use the license, but it made it all too accessible. I wasn’t ready to jump off that bridge yet. Besides, I worried how this would affect Rory and Bridgette. I looked to both.

Bridgette had her sights set on me. She wore an expression ofhmmm. Her brother, on the other hand, flipped Dave off once Patrick turned his back. I coughed to cover my laugh. Rory gave me an abashed look once he noticed that I had seen his hand gesture. I gave him a wink of approval. Seriously, I could have birthed the kid for as ornery as he was. Rory rewarded me with an appreciative grin in return.

Dave brushed past me, hissing like the snake he was, “I always get the last laugh.”

His threat sent a shiver down my spine, but more than ever I was determined to bring some joy to the world—and figuratively run over the man with a one-horse open sleigh.

WHILE I WAS HAVING VISIONSof sugarplums pummeling Dave in the head, Bridgette was studying me. I swore her eyes were begging me not to let her down. The only thing I could think to do was go to her and put my arm around her. I was more than grateful she allowed it. We walked toward the rink, far away from Dave.

“I’m sorry, honey,” I whispered in her ear when I was positive the dirtbag wouldn’t hear a thing.

“Why?”

“Because I’m asking you to live another lie.”

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