Page 39 of A Very Merry Matchup
“Why did I ever become a nurse when I could work in a bookstore like this?”
Beau motions to the sign hanging on the front door. “Says they’re hiring.”
“Hmm, maybe I’ll apply if I can’t find a teacher willing to marry me by the time I’m forty.”
“You’ve got a baseball player willing to marry you right now, you know.”
A few shoppers glance our way. I smack Beau on the chest to show them he’s only kidding around. Then I dart toward a towering display of puzzles because I’m pretty sure Beau’s not kidding around.
“I’m sorry,” he says a few seconds later when he’s joined me next to the puzzles.
“For what?” I pick up a thousand-piece fireplace scene.
“For making things awkward for you. I know my family and I... we can be a lot sometimes. I hope we weren’t coming at you too strong last night. We were just joking around.”
“So your family doesn’t really want us to get married?”
“Oh, my family definitely wants us to get married. I’m just sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable about it.”
Thing is, they didn’t. They made me feel... wanted. Beau makes me feel wanted. I’m just not sure why he wants me when a guy like him could have his pick of women. Including his adorable neighbor. I caught a glimpse of her and she’s the very definition of “girl next door.”
“Can I ask you something?” I pick up a puzzle with one hundred pieces, then set it back down and opt for the forty-piece puzzle featuring a Christmas tree full of forestcreatures. This might be more up to his niece Mia’s speed. “Why are you always flirting with me? Why not another girl? Why not your neighbor?”
“Easy. You’re hotter.”
I whap him on the arm with the puzzle box. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I. But all right, fine. It’s not just that. C’mon, Ivy. You’re incredible. You have to know that.”
I’m not sure I do know that, but the better question is what makes Beau think he knows that? He digs his hands into his jeans pockets and leans forward, lowering his voice so it’s a conversation between us and not the other shoppers.
“Those days I spent in the hospital showed me the type of person you are. Even when you’re flustered and mad, you’re still patient and kind. Plus you’re smart. Competent. You can also be kind of sassy, which I like. I know you’re a good friend. Lucy couldn’t stop raving about you the one time we talked, and you took Hamish in despite the inconvenience. You make my nieces laugh. My entire family adores you. We both know if it came down to the two of us, they’d vote me off the island first in a heartbeat.”
He takes a step closer and if possible, talks even softer. “You want to know why I can’t stop flirting with you? Because you’re the only woman I want to flirt with. And since I only get you for two more days, you better believe I’m going toflirt every chance I get with you. And you better believe if we find ourselves under any bells, things are going to happen this time. Consider yourself warned.”
Yeah, could’ve used that warning a few minutes ago. Before Beau spouted off an answer like that. Before my symptoms started rushing back with a vengeance.
I need air.
“Here. This should do.” I shove some puzzle boxes into Beau’s arms. A couple stuffed bears dressed in cute sweaters. Princess books with colorful covers. An art kit full of crayons and markers. “I’ll wait for you back at the car.”
Cold frosty air slaps my cheeks as I burst from the store and rush toward the car. I should grab Hamish and head for Nashville right now. Before things get any more...wonderful? Magical? Exciting?
Weird. Confusing. Awkward.
Yep. Time to grab Hamish and run. Except when I get to my car, an officer is crouched next to one of my tires. My breath catches as I take a closer look. “Did you just boot my car?”
When he straightens and turns, I realize it’s Misty’s husband. Troy. “Had to,” he says, his shoulders shifting like he’s wearing a scratchy wool sweater.
“Why?”
“Lots of reasons.”
“Like?”
“You didn’t park between the lines.”
Lines? What lines? The road is still covered with a layer of flattened snow. The lines aren’t even visible. I prop my hands on my hips. “And the real reason?”
