Page 20 of Holiday Tides

Nick

Summer, seriously. Just think of the Christmas potential—a crackling fire, a cup of cocoa, Bing Crosby on the Bluetooth speaker. *chef’s kiss emoji*

Nick

Fine. Be that way. But just so you know, it’s YOU that’s ruining Christmas, not me.

These are the text messages I see the following Wednesday, after finally getting a breather from hustling between exam rooms all day. It’s nearly two in the afternoon, and I’m running off fumes from the microwave oatmeal I ate while driving to the office.

Summer

Some of us have jobs that actually require us to be away from our phones. Why are you texting me like a needy teenager?

Almost instantly, he replies.

Nick

Because I NEED to check the status of that chimney flue.

Summer

You know what you should do?

Nick

Find a trench coat, put you on my shoulders, and see if we can pass as one person?

I laugh at the screen, my thumbs flying over the digital keyboard.

Summer

GO. BACK. TO. WORK.

Nick

For a person called Summer, you’re not very fun.

I’m about to type a retort when Loreli, the office manager, stops on her way out of the break room with her third cup of decaf. Her red, reindeer-print blouse has been a source ofenvy all day, but luckily, Loreli is a giving soul and showed me the website so I could order one for myself. The color won’t complement my pale complexion as well as it does Loreli’s gorgeous brown skin, but ‘tis the season.

“I remember that smile,” she says. “They didn’t have text back then, but in the early days, my husband would call during my lunch break to tell me he was thinking of me. Now, I’m lucky to get grocery requests. That’s what forty years will do.” A hearty laugh escapes her. “What’d your boyfriend say to make you grin like a fool?” The corner of her mouth quirks. “Or is it not safe for work?”

I nearly swallow my tongue. One, because Loreli thinks that I’m texting Cooper when I’m texting Nick—my former-nemesis-turned-temporary-neighbor-turned-tentative-friend. And two, because she seems even more intrigued by the NSFW potential of my conversation.

“No.” I cough, slapping my chest when saliva goes down the wrong pipe. “Nothing like that. We’re just talking about renovating my house.”

“We’re calling it ‘renovating’ now?” She winks as she heads toward her office. “Good to know.”

I place a firm hand on my belly to steady myself. I did not havespeaking with our office manager about a topic that would land both of us in HRon my bingo card today.

What’s worse is I don’t think I’ve smiled at a text conversation I’ve had with Cooper in weeks, maybe a month. My empty stomach churns with guilt. I should probably make more of an effort to spend time with him, but there’s so much to be done at the house. Last Saturday, after completely crushing Nick in our impromptu race, I took the world’s longest—and hottest—shower. Then I cranked the Christmas tunes and finally decorated the inside of the cottage. When I ventured outside, a trio of Carolina chickadees sang their four-note song over the—significantly subdued—music emitting from the renovation site. As the jobsite wound down, Nick came over. Even though I shooed him away four times, he ended up helping me finish the exterior lights.

He shared about his job and how his adoptive brother, Aldon, and Jane were enjoying being new parents. I gave him a few entertaining anecdotes about work, hesitating only briefly before recounting the incident with peeing Peter. Nick laughed so hard he made these hilarious and unexpected high-pitched squeaking sounds. They forced me to climb down the shaking ladder lest my own mirth landmein an exam room. After that, Nick gave me a rundown of the various changes to Wilks Beach and anecdotes about locals.

It was…nice.

Friendly.

There weren’t any tense moments like when he had pushed into my house to fix my heater. The memory of those halting seconds in the foyer when Nick’s gaze drifted to my mouth plays automatically. I’d told myself that my goosebumps were from the lack of heat, not how it felt like I’d been sucked into Nick’s magnetism. I’d been frozen, noticing things, like how rugged he looked with dark beard stubble, or how his scar made his face unfathomably more handsome, or how he had a barely noticeable freckle just above his cupid’s bow.

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