Page 30 of Jingle Bell Flock
“So now we’re selling out of trees as fast as we can bale them,” he said eventually. “Which means I need to get back and cut down more before the evening rush.”
Disappointment settled in my stomach. “Right. Of course.”
He took one final drink of his coffee, then set the mug down with a soft clink. His eyes met mine, and something in them made my breath catch.
“So, uh.” He cleared his throat. “Am I going to see you tonight?”
The question was casual, but the look in his eyes was anything but.
That swooping sensation hit my stomach again—the one that had been showing up more and more frequently when Jeremy looked at me like that, like I was something he wanted. Something he planned to keep.
I flattened my palms on the table top, needing a second to ground myself. “Do you want to?” I asked, keeping my voice light even though my heart was racing.
He shot me an amused look that said he knew I was trying to play it cool, his lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “Would I be asking if I didn’t?”
Fair point. “What do you have in mind?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing the rim of his coffee mug.
“We could do dinner at your place,” he said finally. “Or …” He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “We could go out. Get something at The Groggy Lobster, maybe.”
My heart stuttered. “Are you asking me out on a date, Jeremy?”
His lips quirked, that almost-smile that I was starting to crave like an addict craves its next fix. “What if I am?”
“Then I’d say yes.”
The quirked lips grew into a full-blown smile. “Yeah?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven?” I asked, not voicing the “please don’t offer to drive” that was on the tip of my tongue.
The truth was, while Jeremy’s old Chevy was charming as all get out and made an excellent backdrop for farm photos, the heater only worked sometimes, and the engine was loud. My BMW, on the other hand, was brand new, had heated seats, and practically purred.
“Mmm.” Jeremy considered this, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, probably better that way.” Then that almost-smile appeared. “Our first date.” His voice dropped on those last two words, turning them into something weighted.
First meant he was thinking beyond tonight. Beyond this week. It implied a second, a third … a future I’d barely let myself imagine.
Around us, the café hummed with conversation, dishes clinking, the espresso machine hissing. Normal, everyday life continued on, while my world tilted on its axis.
This didn’t feel like working through our past. It felt like Jeremy saw a future with me in it. Like this was the beginning of something, not just the continuation of what we’d started in my bed four days ago.
And suddenly, sitting there in Dockside Café with Jeremy looking at me like I was the only person in the room, I realized something that should have terrified me but didn’t.
I didn’t just want more dates.
I wanted to be his last date.
The truth of it hit me so hard I almost couldn't breathe. What we were doing wasn’t just nostalgia or closure or working through seventeen years of unfinished business. This was me falling—had fallen—completely and utterly in love with Jeremy Price.
Again.
Still.
Always.
“Harrison?” Jeremy’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I'm good. See you at seven then?”
