Page 31 of The Christmas Romance Wish

Her hiccup comes with an air of surprise.

“But you were entirely wrong about Ginny.”

“I blame my writerly imagination.”

“But you write nonfiction.”

“Same airplane. Different wing.”

“So does that mean this is nonfiction?” Taking my hand off the wheel, I wag my finger between us.

“This is real life and this weather is very, very real. I’m used to hiding out in my apartment when it’s this nasty.”

I have a feeling the storm won’t resolve until I clear things up between us. “But you weren’t entirely wrong reading me this weekend. I thought Dylann was a guy so there was that. But I also was trying to be professional.”

“By pushing me away?”

“You’re younger than me.”

“And you admitted to being immature.”

“Can I blame it on being a guy?”

She playfully swats my arm and hiccups. “No, you cannot.”

“There was what I thought was the Dylann thing. The age thing. The living in different states thing. The working together thing.”

“One of those was a big misunderstanding. One is inconsequential. The last can change.” Pausing, she hiccups again. “When the publisher connected us for the project all those months ago, I explained the difference between fiction and nonfiction.”

I repeat her very words, “‘In fiction, you can get away with murder. In nonfiction, it has to be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’”

She smiles. “You remembered.”

I remember everything she’s ever said to me from the first time we spoke on the phone to when we met in person—when we were driving in this Jeep, but in the other direction. The attraction was instant. Despite my combat skills, it hasn’t waned. The brief flicker of hope that it’s mutual, given Emmie’s relief that Ginny isn’t my girlfriend, sparks.

Should I let it? See where this goes? Would that be so bad? What’s the risk ratio?

Emmie’s hiccup breaks into my thoughts. “We decided that this is nonfiction.” This time, she waves her finger between us, then hiccups.

I have to admit, even though this is a serious moment, every little hiccup that escapes is adorable even though it must be annoying for her.

She continues, “So, let’s tell the truth. I’ll go first.”

Proverbially on the edge of my seat, I anticipate what Emmie is going to say when she hiccups again at the same time her phone beeps with an incoming text.

She glances at it and makes a sound that’s not a hiccup. “My flight is canceled.”

Does that mean she’s stuck with me?

Emmie

CHAPTER 9

I read and reread the text from the airline. There’s no mistake. The flight to Miami isn’t happening and the hiccups won’t stop. Also, my cheeks are still red from when I admitted to Alex that the only way to make them go away is to kiss.

I’m royalty alright, the queen of embarrassing myself—from my general awkwardness to thinking Ginny was Alex’s girlfriend.

Tapping on a link for more information from the airline’s message, it looks like all the flights are grounded. Gazing at the sky, the lower we get in elevation and closer to Salt Lake City, the worse the weather gets.

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