Page 4 of Once Upon a Holiday Vacation
I laughed, remembering our last adventure. “No caves this time, I promise. This is way better.”
Carla bustled over with two glasses of Coke. “Well, if it isn't my two favorite customers! The usual, boys?”
We nodded in unison as she set the drinks in front of us before heading back to the kitchen. I watched as Easton stuck a straw in his drink then meticulously folded the wrapper into a tiny square. His hazel eyes met mine over the rim of the glass as he took a careful sip.
“Alright, so what's this big surprise?” he asked, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in his voice.
I couldn't contain my excitement any longer. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the tickets and slid them across the table. “Ta-da! Two tickets for an all-expenses paid holiday cruise to the Bahamas!”
His eyes widened as he picked up the tickets, examining them closely. “How did you...?”
“Won ’em on the radio,” I explained, grinning proudly. “Can you believe it? Sun, sand, and no Indiana winter for us this year!”
A small frown creased his forehead. “But... Christmas? We always spend Christmas here.”
I leaned forward, my elbows on the table. “I know, I know. But, East, think about it. Your parents are gonna be out of town taking care of Aunt Lily and I could see how bummed you were about not having them home for the holidays.”
His shoulders slumped slightly, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. “Yeah, but...”
“But nothing,” I said gently. “Look, I get it. Christmas at home is tradition. But this year, why not try something different? Instead of sitting at home, feeling sorry for ourselves, we could be lounging on a beach, sipping fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You hate fruity drinks.”
“True. Fruity drinks for you and whiskey for me then,” I said with a wink.
I could see the gears turning in his head, probably imagining all the ways this trip could disrupt his carefully planned holiday routine. Easton was a creature of habit, finding comfort in the familiar. But this was our chance for something extraordinary.
The food arrived at our table, and I switched to more mundane topics, giving him a chance to consider my offer without feeling pressured.
We finished eating and paid the bill. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the library,” I said as we grabbed our coats and pulled them on. Outside, the crisp December air nipped at our cheeks. Easton huddled into his coat, tucking his nose down into the collar.
“So, what do you say? Ready for a holiday adventure?” I asked after a few minutes.
He was quiet for a moment, his breath visible in the cold air. “I don't know, West. It's tempting, but...”
“But nothing,” I interrupted, playfully bumping his shoulder. “Think about it. No snow to shovel, no icy roads. Just you, me, and the open sea.”
I watched as Easton's resolve wavered, his hazel eyes flickering with indecision. God, he was adorable when he was conflicted. “Come on, East. Live a little. When was the last time you did something spontaneous?”
Before he could answer, he stopped short, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “West, look!” he exclaimed, pointing towards the far end of the park.
I followed his gaze and saw an old school bus parked near the edge of the grass. It was decorated in a kaleidoscope of colors, the words “The Hook's Traveling Book Nook” painted boldly down the side.
Easton's eyes lit up with childlike wonder. “Can we check it out?” he asked, already taking a step towards the bus.
I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Lead the way, bookworm.”
As we approached the colorful bus, the door swung open with a creak, and two older women stepped out. They were an eccentric looking pair, but something about them radiated warmth and kindness.
The taller woman had wild gray-streaked curls that seemed to defy gravity, framing a face lined with laugh lines. Her bright purple sweater was adorned with patches of various book covers, and a pair of reading glasses dangled from a beaded chain around her neck.
Beside her stood a shorter woman, her silver hair in a messy knot on top her head and sharp, intelligent eyes behind cat-eyeframes. She wore a red button-up shirt tucked into bright yellow high-waisted trousers.
“Well, hello there!” the taller woman called out, her voice cheery. “I'm Cybil, and this is my wife, Jane. Welcome to our little slice of literary heaven!”
Easton's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “This is amazing,” he breathed, taking in the sight of the bus. “How long have you been doing this?”
Jane chuckled, a rich, throaty sound. “Oh, we've been on the road with our little mobile library for many years now,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “It's been quite the adventure.”
