Page 77 of Starlight Bay

“That’s great, man. I’m really thrilled for you. If you have any good ideas on dealing with team HR rules, let me know.”

He scrubbed a hand through his dark hair. “I’ll think on it. But I know how tricky those regulations are.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed, my throat dry all of a sudden.

Luckily, the girls came back with the drinks and we spent time chatting about holiday plans, football, and hockey. All the common themes with us. Sydney and Harper really hit it off, giggling about everyone’s ugly sweaters and how quaint Starlight Bay was, how much they loved it here. It was nice to hear Sydney was having a good time.

She threw her head back, laughing, her cheeks flushed with happiness (and Ugly Sweater punch), and my heart squeezed hard deep in my chest.

How could I just let her walk away, back out of my life again?

Short answer: I couldn’t. I needed to find some way for Sydney to keep her job and our relationship.

Sydney was all I wanted for Christmas.

CHAPTER 11

SYDNEY

The Ugly Sweater Party turned out to be a lot more fun than I’d expected. Jackson and Harper were sweet and funny and conversation flowed. I even managed to get past my sweater hang-up, thanks to the punch.

The evening was just wrapping up sans catastrophe when Mrs. Randall, Mrs. Milton, and a few of the other neighborhood women somehow cornered Harper and me in the kitchen. Talk turned from holiday plans to weddings and babies surprisingly quickly, before we could escape.

“Harper, you and Jackson have been dating for almost a year now, right?” Mrs. Randall asked, her eyebrows raised as she leaned in for the gossip.

“Yes, almost,” Harper said, twisting her hair in her fingers and blushing.

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Mrs. Milton chimed in, smiling at her.

“Have you two gone ring shopping yet?” the neighbor with the vivid red hair asked, winking.

Harper shifted from foot to foot, her back against the counter in the corner of the kitchen. No possible exit.

“Uh, not yet. We’re taking it slow.”

“Very wise,” Mrs. Milton said, squeezing Harper’s arm.

“What about you two?” the redhead swiveled to face me, her severe penciled-in brows furrowing.

“Uh, Nick and I haven’t really been dating that long,” I stammered, my face flaming.

“Pish-posh. I met my Sammy and we were married within three months, had our first baby within the year. You kids these days take everything so slow, like you have all the time in the world. Let me tell you, you don’t. If you find someone you click with—like me and my Sammy—go for it! You’ve all the time in the world to work out the kinks, but not as much time to have babies.”

Harper and I both stood there, shocked, not knowing exactly what to say.

I swallowed hard, then helped myself to another serving of punch. “Great punch, I love it. Can I get the recipe?”

“Sure thing,” Mrs. Randall piped up, crossing the kitchen and opening a drawer for a notepad and pen. As she scrawled out the recipe, Harper mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to me. The other ladies swirled around, helping clean the kitchen. Harper and I made nice for a few more minutes, clearing empty glasses and plates, then scooted out of the kitchen ASAP.

“Ohmygod,” Harper whispered, clutching my arm. “Awkward.”

“Beyond,” I agreed, half-giggling, half-sighing. “If I had a dollar for every time some well-meaning person asked me when I was getting married, I’d be rich.”

Harper chuckled. “Same. Thanks for changing the subject for me. And I need a copy of that recipe!”

“Where were you two?” Nick asked, eyeing our linked arms.

“Being accosted in the kitchen for our lack of wedding rings,” Harper joked, wrapping her arm around Jackson and snuggling into his woolly maroon sweater.

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