Page 73 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
Sara blinks up at me. “How?”
“How what?”
“How did she know you weren’t interestedat allafter you waved your … friendliness all over her?”
I bite back a chuckle. “For the record, I behaved like a total gentleman. And she knew I wasn’t interested, because the entire two hours we were together, I couldn’t stop talking about you.”
Sara gulps. “Me?”
“Yes.”
“You talked about me for two straight hours?”
“Pretty much.” I incline my head toward the chair beside hers. “May I?” When she nods, I take a seat, turning to face her. “Everywhere we went today, I had a story about you.”
“Really?” Sara’s cheeks pink up. “That was probably … pretty annoying for her.”
“On the contrary,” I say. “She told me all my anecdotes brought Abieville to life. That she could see young people, engaged couples, honeymooners, families, older folks on their anniversaries coming to this town for the quaintness. The romance. The happiness. I really sold her on the story. And the story was us.”
Sara draws in a long breath. “Us?”
I meet her gaze. “Yes. I just wish … I wish there was a different ending.”
“Oh.”
My heart starts rattling in my chest. This is as closeas I’ve ever gotten to admitting I made a mistake when I pushed her away. Can’t get much closer without saying the actual words.
So maybe it’s time I told her the whole truth.
“Sara, there’s something you should know.” I pause to clear the cotton in my throat. “About our last day together. That last summer …” I let my voice trail off, fumbling for the right words, as my phone starts ringing. Volume on high.
When I don’t make a move to check it, Sara’s gaze flits to my pocket. “It could be your family calling from the ship,” she says. “Or your doctor confirming your appointment. It could be important, Three.”
My jaw shifts. “You’reimportant.”
“I’m also not going anywhere.”
“Fine.” I dig in my pocket and pull out my phone. When I see the name my chest caves in.
“So.” Sara shoots a glance at the screen. “Who’s calling?”
“Preston Bender.”
“Who’s that?”
“The sheriff.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sara
Abieville’s sheriff station is on the small side and a lacking in natural light, but it’s definitely more modern on the inside than stereotypes suggest about a town this size. Instead of ancient computers and rickety chairs, the furnishings look recently updated. There’s a well-appointed coffee cart in one corner, and the walls sport giant cork boards full of brightly colored fliers.
The place is mostly empty, which I’m guessing is fairly typical for a Monday afternoon. The only people in the station are the deputy, the sheriff, and a miserable Sully Ackerman.
On the drive over, Three filled me in on what he’d learned from Sheriff Bender. Apparently a witness reported Sully breaking into Abieville High, and he was already inside the building by the time Deputy Townsend caught him.
The sheriff contacted Three to see about pressing charges since he’s the summer school administrator and the principal’s away for Christmas. According to Three, the district has a zero-tolerance policy for illegal activity on school property, so Sully’slooking at a week’s suspension just for breaking in. Anything worse could mean an expulsion.
