Page 2 of Say Yule Stay
“Since when?”
“Ouch, Lace. It’s been like three years.”
“Shut up. No, it hasn’t.” I lift my eyebrows and wait as her mouth forms the perfect little O. “Now that you mention it, I think I remember Murphy saying something about that.”
“I just bet you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she fires back, and I grin because teasing Lacey Brock has always been one of my favorite pastimes. Seems like adulthood hasn’t changed that.
“You wanna come inside?” I ask, taking a sip of my coffee, the steam rising off the surface in the cold December air.
“And just leave my car?” She’s exasperated and I’m not ashamed to use that to my advantage.
“I made coffee.”
“Walker…”
“And there’s donuts,” I muse, stepping off the porch and down the snow-covered sidewalk. “Here.” Handing her my coffee mug, I step around her and snatch the keys from the ignition before grabbing her purse and a duffle bag from the backseat.
Everything else will have to wait.
“This is good coffee, Walker, and almost makes up for you being so bossy,” she snarks even though she’s cradling the mug like a lifeline.
“I’m sorry. Did someone crash intoyourfront yard this morning?” I fire back, watching her spine straighten as she sniffs.
“I was having a moment.”
“Obviously.”
“I’ll just call a tow truck and everything will be fine,” she says with a hopeful note I’m about to crush.
“Lace, this storm is only going to get worse, and this isn’t Chicago—it’s Starlight Bay. Unless it’s an emergency, no one is going anywhere for at least forty-eight hours.”
“My car in a snowbank isn’t an emergency?”
“No, you did too good a job parking it. Next time keep the back end in the road so you can be sure you’re obstructing traffic.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says wryly as I hold the door open for her, letting her into my house.
Into my space.
It shouldn’t be weird, but it is.
Because Lacey Brock is all grown up, and for the first time she doesn’t look like my best friend’s little sister. No, right now she looks like this snowstorm just got a lot more fun.
3
LACEY
Of all the places I could have crashed in Starlight Bay, Walker’s front yard isn’t the worst. His house is nothing like I imagined and certainly not like the fancy apartment he had while working for Andrews International.
No, this place is quaint with the sand-colored walls, white trim, and honey-stained hardwood floors. It’s clean and comfortable, and I’m about ready to curl up into the oversized armchair by the fire.
“Do you need to call your parents?” he asks as I dig through my duffle bag and pull out a sweatshirt, a pair of leggings, and thick wool socks. Smirking when he sees my clothes, he adds, “Please, make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.” I wink, throwing an extra sway to my hips as I duck into the bathroom and change before joining him back in the kitchen. “I didn’t tell them I was coming,” I admit as I twist my hair up off my neck and tie it into a ponytail.
“You didn’t?” He seems surprised and that’s fair because my brother and I tell our parents everything.
