Page 55 of Booked for the Holidays
The reason no one else has made sense.
“Start to think what?” he prods, raising an eyebrow.
I wonder if the desire to know him emotionally and physically is written on my face. I wonder if he can tell I want to grab him by the collar and press my lips against his, right here in front of everyone. I wonder if maybe, possibly,hopefully, he feels the same way.
“You’re copying me,” I finish. It’s a terrible lie, but it works, earning a low chuckle of approval.
“What’s the positive reinforcement?”
“Blueberry muffins.”
“My damn weakness. You like blueberry muffins, too? Now who’s copying who?”
“No. I hate them. Chocolate muffins are my favorite.”
“Then why the hell do you make so many blueberry muffins?”
“Becauseyoulike them, Theo. They're your favorite. I remember the first time you came into the store and asked for one. I watched your eyes light up when you saw I had a whole tray. They had been in the case for two days, and not one person had ordered one. I was about to toss them in the trash and then you were there, acting like they were the rarest jewel. A prized possession. You were sohappy, over such a small thing, and god, it was so beautiful. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. I didn’t even know your name. But I put blueberry muffins out again the next week, hoping you’d come back. And you did. You’ve kept coming back. I know you have a busy life. You don’t do a lot of things for yourself, and I know how much you love those damn muffins. I bake them foryou, Theo. Because we all deserve someone who looks after us every now and then.”
“Bridget.”
He’s said my name before. It’s been more frequent the last few weeks, but this one is different. It sounds like he’s afraid he’ll never get the chance to speak the word again. Embedded with awe, a touch of nerves, an ounce of hope.
“Yes?”
“You are…” He blows out a breath, shakes his head. Rubs his jaw and smiles. “Extraordinary.”
I smile back as the compliment nestles near my heart. It works its way inside, curling beside the other important things he’s told me. The other parts of him I’ve seen, honest. Raw. Unfiltered. Each as equally important as the last.
“I’m not extraordinary,” I answer. “That’s too high of—”
“You are.” It’s emphatic, not up for debating. “You really, really are.”
“Thanks.” I whisper it, because every time I interact with this man, it’s like we take another step toward something new. Something outside the realm ofrandomly assigned competition partners. It scares me a little. But it’s a good kind of scared.
“I’m not sure if I deserve that kind of attention. People don’t usually focus on my muffin preferences. They like to ask why I’m not at more meetings or why our sales numbers are lower than six years ago.”
“They’re missing out, then. Remember what I told you? Some people are worth being exhausted for. That includes you, Theo. Come on. The rest of the gang is here, and the opening credits have the best song.”
* * *
Our group stretches acrossfour blankets. Snacks get passed around. Drinks are consumed. Someone—Bradley, if I had to guess—brought a case of beer. He distributed the cans, knocking the aluminum in a round of cheers. Malik and I quote the movie under our breaths, high-fiving when we nail the lines perfectly. Theo sits next to me and grins the whole time. A chuckle shakes his shoulders during every scene.
It’s dark by the time the movie ends. Mac is talking to Chandler about her soccer team, excitedly sharing how she’s switching positions from defense to offense. I’m undoing Lucy’s hairstyle from earlier, French-braiding the auburn locks into two pigtails, when I feel someone staring at me. I look up, and Theo is watching us. He mouths “thank you,” a grateful expression punctuating the words. I answer it with a smile.
“We should get going,” Theo says. “The kid has school tomorrow.”
“It was great to meet you, Mac,” Chandler says. “You’ll have to come by the store one day when I’m there.”
“That would be so fun. Thanks for doing my hair, BB. I’m glad I got to see you.”
“It’s not great, but probably looks better than what your dad can do.”
“You’d be surprised,” he draws out. “I know how to French braid, too.”
I stand, pulling Mac to her feet. She gives me a hug and I return the gesture. “See you soon, kiddo.”
“I’ll come by tomorrow and set up the rest of the trees,” Theo says.
