Page 15 of A Very Merry Mistake

“Of course I do. And you said I could cash it in at any point until you were in a serious relationship or married. I thought I’d lost my opportunity.”

I groan, shaking my head.

“My friend, the day has come to fruition. I choose her.” He looks out the window at Claire, who’s waiting patiently under the covered porch.

“Oh, come on. We were young and stupid. A lot has happened since then.”

“You goin’ back on your word?” He raises his brow.

We made that stupid bet when I was fifteen, while me and my pops were rebuilding an old Harley. It took us four summers to restore it back to its original state, and it’s sitting in my shop right now. I was cocky as fuck and said a lot of stupid shit back then. But to a Texan, our word is our life; if we don’t have that, we have nothing.

I swallow hard, knowing I’m not up for the challenge. “You’re a dick. You know I’m rusty and out of practice.”

“I’m just a man of opportunity.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks for kickin’ me when I’m down. Mama always told me that my teenage cockiness would get me in trouble. I guess trouble finally found me.”

“You keep me posted,” he says with a friendly wave and a chuckle. I want to flip him off, but I fight back the urge and slip outside once more.

The cold wind immediately slams against me as the rain falls in sheets from above. I glance over at Claire, who’s looking up at the sky, and I’m pissed that Hank remembered that dumb-as-fuck bet. Claire is the type of woman who deserves better than that. I just met her and know that as fact.

So I make a decision to just see what happens. When love is forced, it never works out. I learned that the hard way.

I move closer.

“I don’t have an umbrella,” I say in apology as she lifts the fur-trimmed hood on her jacket.

“It’s fine. Shall we just go for it?”

I squint at the truck. The windshield wipers are still going, and the lights are on. Then I hear it idling. “You didn’t turn off the engine and take the keys?” I glance at her.

“No. Isn’t Merryville safe?” she asks.

I nod. “I guess you have a point. Don’t remember anyone getting their vehicles stolen. Well, at least for not as long as I’ve been alive.”

“Forty years?” she questions, her breath comes out in smoke.

“I’m not forty yet. I’m the ripe old age of thirty-six.”

She snickers.

“And what about you, Grandma?”

“I turned thirty-five on Thanksgiving.”

“No way. You’re a Thanksgiving baby?”

She rolls her eyes. “Gobble, gobble. My birthday doesn’t always fall on the holiday, just sometimes, and when I was born, obviously. It’s probably why the turkey jokes have followed me around my entire life. Go ahead, laugh. I know you want to.”

“I don’t, CeCe. I think it’s adorable. Why don’t you stay here under the covering and I’ll come and pick you up?”

She gives me a look. “Are you sure?”

I finally laugh. “You and those boots are not friends today. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I run across the parking lot, and the rain pelts against me, but luckily most bounces off my coat. It’s so hot inside the truck that the windows are fogged. I try to wipe the windshield so I can see. This old thing doesn’t have a defrost setting.

Slowly, I back out of the parking space and crawl my way to Claire. Reaching over, I open the door for her, and she heaves herself inside, shutting the door behind her.

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