Page 71 of Mistletoe Season
Her attention shifted to the Christmas wreath donning Granny Edgewood’s front door.
Christmas.
The story of the impossible happening.
Her vision blurred a little.
Because of love.
Her chest squeezed, and she leaned her head against the steering wheel, digging her forehead into her knuckles.
But that couldn’t mean the miracle would extend to Arran, could it?
She pinched her eyes more tightly. And what if she failed? Proved she couldn’t fit into whatever life he lived? Or even disappointed him to the point he rejected her?
Her stomach roiled with the struggle.
Was she brave... or insane enough... to fall in love with a prince?
Her truck door flew open.
“It’s about time you showed up,” Luke said, looking down at her with a ready twinkle in his eyes. “Folks have been waiting for your mashed potatoes for a good fifteen minutes.”
“Thanksgiving lunch doesn’t start for another half hour!” she shot back, exaggerating her frown at him.
“There’s already a line.” He marched around the truck and opened the passenger door, pulling out the massive pot, still warm from the stove. “And nobody wants to be the last for these.” He raised the pot higher in the air in reference.
With an eye roll for his benefit, she followed him to the house.
“Besides, I thought I ought to give you some important news.” The twitch of Luke’s lips reflected his continued teasing, so Charlie didn’t feel obligated to respond. “You don’t have to worry about any of the ladies at church stealing Arran anymore.”
“I have not been worried about the ladies at church—”
“They’ve stopped following him around because they heard the rumors.”
“The rumors?” She slowed her pace, staring so hard at the back of his head that he finally made a slow turn toward her. “What rumors?”
His dark brows swung high in faux innocence. “That he’s a taken man.”
“Taken?” She edged a step toward him, a knot forming in her throat. “By who?”
Luke sent her a pointed look and resumed his walk.
“Me?” The word squeaked out as she rushed up the front porch steps behind him. She quickly lowered her voice. “You can’t meanme? We’ve definitely not been on any dates!”
He paused in front of the door and looked down at her. “Folks are just calling it like they see it.”
“Like they see it?” she asked, and then resumed the squeaking.
He breathed out a huge sigh, as if this were the most annoying thing he’d ever done in his whole life. “The googly eyes are pretty obvious, Charlie.”
“I am not sending him googly—”
“And the way you laugh when you’re with him.”
Her mouth dropped wide, but she rallied her wits. “You make me laugh, too, but I don’t have sights to marryyou.”
“I make you laugh like you’re in pain.” He pinned her with a look. “Hemakes you laugh like you like him. It’s different.”
