Page 39 of Santa’s Little Faker
“Why don’t you have anything up?” He had stuff. His mother had bought it for him. “Do you need help putting it up?”
Had he just gotten distracted with work too?
He shrugged and stretched out thinking sounds until we’d made it to the restaurant, and I was smart enough to know that meant we had to come back to that topic.
I was a bit dense, but I wasn’t completely stupid.
I let him think he’d pulled one over on me as I opened the door to his cousin’s restaurant, though. “You ready for chaos? There’s at least a fifty percent chance that someone you know is in here.”
And at least that high that the person would be related in some way.
I’d always wanted more family growing up, but then I’d realized what that meant and I’d gotten smarter. By the time I graduated college I was thanking God that I was an only child and that my parents were only children as well.
Family meant chaos or trouble…and his always turned the crazy up to a thousand.
“I don’t want a summer wedding.” His response made me sigh that time, which actually got a smile out of him. “So yes. Are you ready?”
Really?
I rolled my eyes and gestured for him to go inside.
“I’ve been baptized by fire with your family. I was born for this.” No matter what, he wasn’t going to get married to the library lady and his family was going to learn some boundaries. “Are you ready?”
His adorably sweet smile had me fighting the urge to kiss him and I had to remind myself it would be inappropriate. “I’ve always been ready. You’re the pokey puppy here.”
The cheeky brat nearly pranced into the restaurant, reminding me a bit of his little side, and for once, I didn’t see young Orlando when I looked at him.
I just saw him…and that had me questioning everything…except what he wanted to read the next time he was little.
The Pokey Puppy.
Chapter 11
Orlando
“I’m thinking about alfredo and Christmas decorations.” Bastian was feeling like poking at me but he was doing a pretty good job of looking normal. “Which one would you like to talk about?”
“Meatballs?” Because that went with red sauce.
Rolling his eyes, Bastian sighed. “Was I thinking about gettingyoualfredo?”
“No?” The fact that he looked offended had me trying to decide if he was funny or if I’d hurt his feelings.
“That’s right because the whole family knows you don’t like it.” As he narrowed his gaze at me, I decided it was both. “I don’t need to be vomited on again.”
Oh.
Okay, I’d forgotten about that.
“I had the flu. It’s not my fault.” I’d also been a kid and hadn’t wanted the slimy noodles anyway. “I’m sorry you were stuck sitting by me at dinner, but it really wasn’t my fault. No one believed me.”
Possibly because I’d tried to get out of family dinner a few times using the wholemy tummy hurtsbit.
Crying wolf wasn’t just about livestock.
Bastian was nice enough not to call me out on thenot my faultpart, but his mood didn’t improve. “So?”
What?
