Page 10 of Holly and Nick Hate Christmas
“A Christmas date wouldn’t be the end of the world, huh?”
That freeze thawed fast. “Are youmatchmaking?” I grabbed my cell and took it off speaker, pressing it to my ear. The rest of the holiday shoppers didn’t need to hear this, even if Taylor Swift had taken over the store speakers.
“It’s not that deep, Holly.” A pen clicked double-time, which Ryan used to do back in high school when studying for an exam he knew he was going to fail.
It was deep. It was “haven’t been on a date in a year because that last guy I met up with from E-Love only ever wanted to take me to IKEA’s coffee shop” deep. I sucked in a breath and prepared to let him have it.
“Besides, Nick was into it.”
My mouth snapped shut. Taylor blared on about giving her heart to someone special. I swallowed. “He was?” Cute, professional, funny Nick…wanted to be my holiday date?
“Well, I didn’t hold him at gunpoint.” Ryan laughed.
I stuck my tongue out at my phone.
“Yes,Holly. He wouldn’t have agreed to be your date if he didn’t want to.”
My stomach fluttered. In that case, I needed to see if they had this sweater in white too.
“You’re right. It’s not that deep. Count me in.” I schooled my voice to sound like I didn’t care either way, because that’s what twenty-nine-year-old single gals did with their big brothers when discussing their love lives. “But what did he say, exactly?”
“I believe it was in Klingon.”
I flinched. “Okay, never mind.”
“Inside joke.” Ryan laughed. “Don’t worry about it. He’s normal.”
We’d find out.
Ryan continued. “Nick hates Christmas too, ironically.”
That was ironic—Alanis Morissette level. I frowned. “Why?”
I could almost hear Ryan’s shrug. “We didn’t get into all that. He’s just not a fan.”
“Then why does he want to go to Point Bluff?”
Ryan cleared his throat. “To be your date.”
I widened my eyes at my reflection. “You’re saying that Nick was into me enough when he met me last year that he wants to be my date at a gathering for a holiday he despises?”
A grin threatened my cheeks at the notion, and I tried to rein it back. Single girls at Christmas couldn’t be too careful. The matchmakers were feral this time of year, and I hated blind dates more than the holidays. I needed to know for sure Nick was on board and not being bamboozled.
Ryan let out his breath. “You’re overthinking, Holly.”
That was probably fair. Still. “One more time, to clarify—Nick knows he’s my dateandwants to be.”
“Yes.”
My brother had the patience of a saint. I gave my grin permission to spread. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then.”
I hung up and tossed my cell back on the bench. Then I bounced up and down a little on my toes and preened in my new sweater. Looked like I was going home unemployed and turning thirty…
But maybe I didn’t have to go home completely single after all.
In his thirty-one years, Nick had never experienced a wardrobe crisis. But staring into the depths of his color-coordinated yet still insufficient closet, he figured that’s what this mildly panicky, throat-closing sensation was.
He straightened the collar on a hanging polo shirt. He needed to impress Ryan’s parents, but not in a trying-too-hard type of way. More like in a responsible, please-invest-in-my-dream type of way…which is why he’d basically packed everything.
