Page 11 of Just Add Mistletoe

Lori winced. “You have no idea.”

They were basically alone downstairs, and all seemed quiet. “I’m up for a good story.” Now that he had her talking, he wanted to hear more from her—about anything.

Lori hesitated. “It’s late, and I’m sure you want to head home. Or to your trailer, whatever you call it.”

“Trailer is fine.” He couldn’t help but smile. “And I’m a night owl. Also, I love stories.”

Lori shifted in her seat and leaned forward on her elbows. Her lips curved into a sweet smile. “I’ll tell you one story, then.”

“Perfect.” He moved around the counter and sat one stool away from her. Not too close, but not far either.

“I only remember this because it was right after I opened my shop,” she said. “About six months ago—”

“It’s your shop, then? You own it?”

“Yeah, it’s my shop.” She paused, but when he didn’t say anything more, she continued. “We’d had an unexpectedly busy day, so I only had a few minutes to get ready. I decided to stayin my regular clothes—pink pants, white top, and Easter egg earrings. You know, because of the holiday.”

He smiled.

“But I had to touch up my makeup, you know, so I wouldn’t scare any potential dates off.”

“Dates?”

“The event was one of those speed-dating things.”

He nodded, even though he’d never been to one, and didn’t think he could be paid to attend. Also, he was pretty sure Lori looked fine with no makeup—was she even wearing any now? Because she looked perfectly fine.

“I arrived to find that they had a bunch of tables set up.” Lori gave a half smile. “The women stayed put, and the men moved from table to table. Everyone had five minutes to chat, then a timer would go off, and the men would shuffle to the next woman at the next table.” She drew in a breath. “Each one felt like a painful job interview—but with rapid-fire personal questions.”

Malcom was totally invested. “Questions like what’s your favorite color?”

Lori laughed softly. “Those would have been welcome. No, the questions were about my age, how many kids did I want, where did I want to live when I married, what my parents were like, what income level did I have . . .”

“Wow, to the point, I guess,” he mused. “I mean those are things that will eventually come out, but maybe not in a fire hose of questions.”

“Exactly.” Lori sighed. “Despite all of that, I gave my number to three of the men. They all called, but nothing went beyond a first date. In fact, nothing has gone beyond a first date for years.” She shrugged and traced a finger along the marble lines on the island. “When I even think about going on a date now, I just shutdown. I have no interest, and I’d rather do anything else—even go to the dentist.”

Malcom laughed. “That’s kind of depressing, but I totally get it.”

Lori tilted her head, her mouth turning up. “So you’re not going to shame me?”

“Not at all.” He glanced toward the stairs that Brandy and Ian had taken. “I can’t say the same for any of your friends, but relationships aren’t for everyone. I’m perfectly happy and functional and marginally successful in life.”

She was fully smiling now. “You are. And I don’t think either of us should change for other people. We can just be ourselves. Single and happy.”

“Right. Single and happy.” Malcom folded his arms. “So what about your family? Do you have any siblings?”

“No siblings.” She gave him a quick rundown of her parents selling their hardware store, moving to Florida, and leaving her to fix up their house to sell.

Malcom whistled. “Wow, that’s a lot. You’re fixing the place up by yourself?”

At her nod, he asked, “When do you sleep?”

She smirked. “Between midnight and six?”

“So we’re probably past your bedtime now?”

Lori laughed. “Yeah.” Then she stifled a yawn.

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