Page 33 of My Favorite Holidate

“We do,” she says, then smooths her hands across her lap and exhales. “Now, enough of that. Let’s talk about something fun.”

“Like what?”

“What were you reading when I arrived?”

Ah, this is a much better conversation topic. “A detective novel,” I admit.

“Something juicy and pulpy?” she asks, like she’s eating that up.

“Yes.” I pause. “I don’t usually admit that’s what I read for pleasure.”

She gives me a conspiratorial smile. “I’ll keep your secrets.”

She knows more than most people already. All the more reason to keep the secret of this crush that’s growing stronger by the hour. A crush that’ll be snuffed out after the holidays.

That night, as I’m sliding under the covers in just shorts and trying not to replay that dinner over and over, myphone buzzes. I swipe it open to a message from Fable. She’s sent me…a song. The cover for “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” I listen and she’s right.

Wilder: It does sound like a seduction.

I need to stop. Truly, I do. I should leave this alone. But then she replies, and it’s impossible to put my phone down.

Fable: I’m listening to it now too.

Wilder: In your fuzzy socks?

Fable: Of course. They have snowmen on them. Would snowflakes on socks get you to wear socks in bed?

Wilder: Only if this song were playing.

Fable: So I guess you can break your routine.

Wilder: Every now and then it’s been known to happen.

Fable: Even though you love it?

Wilder: Even then.

Fable: So, would it be breaking your routine to go to a co-ed wedding shower? With me?

It’s just a text. There’s no tone of voice. But in my mind, I can hear her warm voice pitch up in hope that I’ll say yes. Like this is a date. Before I reply, she writes again.

Fable: My sister just texted me. She has a client who owns a cute café, and she can get a private room there next Sunday for it. Should we go together? To practice our routine?

Wilder: I’d love to.

Then I set my phone down so I’m not tempted to keep up the volley since it feels too good. Everything does with her. I squeeze my eyes shut.

It’s not a date, man. It’s practice for the town’s winter games and the wedding.

Still, I listen to the song again as I search online for fuzzy socks. With gingerbread men on them. With candy canes. With mistletoe. Then I send her several pairs to arrive tomorrow morning. With another note.Happy holidays to my Leo elf.

There. Just another layer of Fable detail. After all, I’m not simply showing Brady how a woman should be treated. I’m showing her, and she deserves to know how it feels when a man pays attention.

Besides, the more we practice at being a couple, the better we’ll do when the games begin.

That’s what I tell myself as I open my old paperbackand try to get lost in the story. But something nags at me and I’m not sure what. Did I forget something? It feels like it, but I’m drawing a blank. I return to the book, but then, as the hero can’t keep his eyes off his heroine as she leaves, it’s obvious.

I was having such a good time, I forgot to cover one very key issue on our date. I put a note on my calendar to handle it at the office first thing.

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