Page 37 of The Night Before Grumpmas
And damn it, she’s right.
A crush? It sounds ridiculous. Juvenile, even. And yet . . . maybe Audrey is right. I’m starting to fall for Noelle, the holiday-loving, decoration-obsessed whirlwind who drives me insane. The Holiday Enchantress, more like it.
Noelle looks up at me, her confusion clear, completely unaware that I’m one wrong move away from closing the space between us. Her lips curve into a small, hesitant smile, and I feel something inside me shift.
This isn’t good. I should be focusing on literally anything else. Maybe I’ll order more apple cider—no, I can’t, I’m driving. Or check the weather—Noelle already told me it’s crisp and perfect for apple picking. She’s right, of course. But honestly, I don’t care if it’s sunny or cloudy. I just want to be here with her.
Maybe we could talk about gas prices—except she sold her car when she left Maple Ridge. The subway made more sense in New York.
None of it matters. All I can do is stare at her like an idiot, my mind swirling with every possible way I could close the distance and kiss her.
“Jacob?” Her voice snaps me back to reality. Her head tilts slightly, that knowing look in her eyes, like she’s waiting for me to say something remotely intelligent.
I blink. Right. I’m supposed to be saying things, not just staring like I’ve forgotten how words work. “Uh, sorry, what?”
“You seem awfully distracted,” she says, raising an eyebrow.
Awfully distracted is putting it kindly. I’m behaving like a guy on his first date, and this is definitely not a date. She made that crystal clear—especially when she insisted on paying for her own apples and her meal. Because, you know, otherwise it’d be a date.
What do I even want from this?
Do I even remember how to date? Honestly, I can’t. It’s been years—too many, if I’m being real—since I last tried. It’s just been one-night stands: random hookups at bars or parties. We’d head to her place or a hotel room, and after a round or two, it was over. No names, no numbers, no messy feelings.
But with Noelle? The thought of never talking to her again . . . doesn’t sit right.
“Jacob?” she asks again, looking at me expectantly, even a little concerned. Right, get my head out of . . . Noelle-land. A dangerous place to be, but it’s weirdly nice here. Pretty, even.
“Sorry,” I say, scrambling for something coherent. “I was just trying to figure out what time we need to leave to make it back for your appointment.”
“My appointment?” She looks at me, confused.
“Yeah, Emmersyn’s stylist is doing your hair and makeup for the gala,” I explain.
Noelle pulls at her long braid, almost hugging it. “I can do my own hair and makeup.”
“Sure, but this girl has the accessories that go with your dress,” I say, trying not to sound like I’ve lost my mind.
“Accessories?” She’s still confused, and I don’t blame her.
“A few things that’ll make everything look . . . perfect.”
What I don’t tell her is that I was so distracted yesterday after realizing just how badly I wanted to kiss her that when the stylist mentioned rose gold hairpins and a matching necklace and earrings, I just nodded like an idiot. And signed the bill without thinking twice.
I didn’t read that the necklace and earrings were diamonds, a bunch of tiny pretty diamonds. The hairpins also have diamonds. I paid way too much for tonight’s date and somehow I don’t think Noelle will appreciate the jewelry as much as she might appreciate the apple necklace I got her at the giftshop that I plan on giving to her once I drop her at her apartment.
That’s the kind of girl she is. She’s not about money or luxury or taking advantage of anyone. Nope, Noelle’s about kindness, joy, and living life as loudly as possible—like she’s determined to squeeze every drop out of it.
“Em called me afterward,” I continue, trying to sound casual, “saying she heard all about you and that she needed a stylist to work in those hairpins I got you.” I pause, wondering if she’s going to freak out when she sees the ridiculously expensive accessories she’s about to wear.
Noelle narrows her eyes slightly. “Why do you need me at this gala?”
I try to keep my face neutral, not letting on that the real answer would probably scare her off. “I don’t like to go alone,” I say instead. It’s vague, safe—better than telling her the truth.
Because after everything this week, I doubt the real reason I wanted her company will ever come out. And, honestly, that’s probably for the best.
Wouldn’t that be great?
Chapter Twenty
