Page 77 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
“If you keep thanking me, I’m going to start thinking you like me.”
“There’s a line, Thomas, and you’re about to cross it.”
He laughed, and the way his smile reached his eyes made my stomach do a teeny, tiny flip that felt a little too much like I did… like him.
Likehim, like him.
Like a stupid schoolgirl crush.
Oh, dear.
Having feelings for Thomas was not on my Christmas list this year.
More to the point, I was far too old to be having such a thing as a schoolgirl crush. On Thomas Castleton of all people.
I had to remind myself that I’d only come here for my sister’s wedding, not some fancy, Hallmark-esque Christmas romance.
All he needed was a checkered shirt and the whole thing would be complete.
“What are you thinking about?” Thomas asked. “I can see your brain cogs turning.”
Well, I sure as shit wasn’t about to tell him the truth.
“Thinking about tomorrow and hoping it fixes the problem,” I replied with a small smile. “That’s all.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN – SYLVIE
The old town hall was absolutely freezing. I wasn’t sure I agreed with my sister’s assertions that we could adequately heat it for the wedding, but she absolutely insisted it was under control, and I was going to trust her judgement on that.
Reluctantly.
Given that I’d spent half an hour consoling her after she’d tearfully accepted Cassandra and Steve’s offer of his family veil, I was starting to wonder if I was losing my mind. Hazel certainly was—and not to be that person, but she was either pregnant or she was about to start her period because there were some wild mood swings this morning.
I really hated being that person, but I knew my sister. I also knew brides. She was both, and her almost hysterical tears over Cassandra’s offer followed by her being overexcited at the sight of cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks was not normal.
Although I had to admit that I understood the latter.
I was thirty years old and was regularly excited by cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks. Couldn’t stand pineapple on pizza, but pop a chunk of it with a tiny block of cheese and a spiky bit of wood through the middle?
Sold.
I was relieved that the veil issue had been sorted.
I was not happy, however, that Thomas was ten minutes late delivering the forest of Christmas trees my sister had insisted upon as her wedding décor.
It was absolutely bloody freezing at the old town hall, and it’d started snowing again about ten minutes ago. My only shelter from the weather was the small entryway that was ironically the warmest place in the entire building.
The snow had gotten progressively heavier over the last couple of minutes, and the tiny dots of snow that had been the first flakes to fall were now much, much larger, and they reeked of the kind of snow that said, “I’m here, I’m staying, get your snow boots out, bitch.”
I did not have snow boots.
Maybe Thomas was right.
Living in the south had made me soft.
Fuck.
Thank God for Gramps’ truck, that was all I could say. My car was completely useless in this weather, and I was glad he’d had the forethought to put me on the insurance before I’d arrived.
