Page 14 of All I Want for Christmas Eve

Chapter Six

As we continue eating, Adam explains his technique.

“It is also possible to Google how to woo a maiden,” he says with a grin. “Or I could just copy what the Earls, Viscounts, and Marquises do in your books, right? Is Marquises the plural of Marquis? I don’t know, that’s not a word I commonly use.”

“It is,” I say glumly. Turns out I am a normal maiden, and I am wooable, after all. I didn’t realize I could be so vulnerable to the charms of a handsome man who knows how to cook almond-crusted salmon, and smiles at me like that. But who wouldn’t be? Screw him. I mean, I definitelydon’twant to screw him. Do I? Dammit. I grab the glass of wine and take a large gulp. “How would Mrs. Wintergreen feel if she knew that you were drinking wine and having romantic dinners with strange women in the middle of miles of endless snow?”

“If you’re talking about my mother, then Mrs. Wintergreen would be very pleased to know I was on a date with such a gorgeous young woman, and a talented author. She loves historical romance, actually. She would probably enjoy reading your books—especially that one about the Duke.” Adam smiles as he enjoys a strawberry from the salad. “But if you’re talking about my wife, then I hope the future Mrs. Wintergreen is sitting right in front of me, as we speak. If she’s open to changing her last name, of course. It’s not a requirement. I’m a feminist.”

Oh my god. Did he really just say that? I call bullshit on how perfect this guy is. Men like this don’t just fall from the sky and land in your lap. Men like this are all married—what girl would let someone like Adam get away? I find myself staring at him with wide eyes. “So, Mr. Wintergreen-the-feminist, since when do guys talk so easily and openly about wanting to get married?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted a wife,” Adam explains. “But I spent my twenties working pretty hard, and I didn’t date very much. Something about dating just feels unnatural, you know? Like in all these books you’ve written, the couple doesn’t meet on a website. They meet through some grand, serendipitous, magical coincidence or event. Like for example, a plane crash. I mean, wouldn’t that be an epic story to tell our kids and grandkids someday? Grandma met Grandpa when his plane crashed in her backyard, and then she saved his life and they fell madly in love! What could possibly be a better story than that?”

He’s not wrong. It’s a rather good story. I sip more wine. “You should slow down there, Adam. I haven’t even agreed to kids, and you’ve already decided we’re having grandkids.”

“And dogs,” he says. “Maybe some kitty cats. I am not opposed to a parrot, or a ferret, or a horse.”

The corner of my lips quirk up into a smile. “You’re joking about all this, right?”

“Not at all. We could have a whole farm if you wanted. I can just see the sign now.” He holds his hands up in the air as if viewing an invisible sign. “Welcome to the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve’s private paradise. Catchy, right?”

I’m smiling. Why am I smiling? I try to wipe the betraying expression from my face. “How am I going to fall madly in love with you if I don’t even know what you do for a living?”

“Does it matter?” Adam asks. “I would like to doyoufor a living.”

I sigh, picking up a strawberry and twirling it on my fork. “Have you heard about the time God gave Adam good news and bad news?”

“I don’t think I have,” Adam responds.

“Well, Adam asked to hear the good news first, of course. God said that he had created two new organs for Adam—one was a brain, so that he could have intelligent conversations with Eve, and the other was a penis, so that he could reproduce and spread intelligent life all over the planet. Adam was super happy about both of these gifts, obviously.”

“And the bad news?” Adam asks.

“He was only given enough blood to operate one of these organs at a time,” I say, popping the strawberry into my mouth.

Adam chuckles at this. “Well, that was a long time ago, and I like to consider myself the new and improved Adam. I mean, the first man was a prototype, but the… 107 billionth man has got to have some modern features and upgrades, right?”

“Like cupholders?” I ask him, leaning forward curiously. “Remote starters? Backup cameras? Heated seats?”

“Well, I can certainly hold a cup,” Adam says, lifting his glass of wine in demonstration. “I can also look behind me to see what’s there, before backing up. And if I sit in a chair for a while before you sit in it, I might even be able to warm it up for you.”

“Very impressive,” I tell him teasingly. “But I’m not sure that any of those abilities are ones that all the other Adams of history didn’t have.”

“Well,” Adam says, leaning closer and speaking in a low voice. “I’m sure that if you stick with me for a little while, I can show you some special abilities that are unique to this Adam.”

The way he says that gives me a little chill. I take a sip of the wine, gazing down at velvet tablecloth. The candles are flickering between us, illuminating the room with a dreamy atmosphere. With the way this man cooks, gives massages, decorates, and woos a maiden, I can’t imagine there’s anything he isn’t good at. Other than flying planes, of course.

My cheeks darken as my curiosity wanders toward his bedroom skills. I haven’t been with a man in… longer than I care to put a number on. I think I would be impressed with basic skills at this point, but if he can bonehalf as well as he cooks—we’re going to have a problem. I’m going to be at risk of believing all his nonsense about marriage, because in my drunken haze, it’s starting to sound nice and romantic. I try to think of a way to kill the mood.

“As long as I don’t have to get into any flying vehicles with you, I’m curious to see more of your skills,” I tell him.

“Ouch,” he responds, clutching his chest. “That is too soon, my good lady. You wound me.”

“Well, you can’t be good at everything,” I tell him lightly.

“I will have you know that the storm took down my plane, and it wasn’t due to my poor flying skills. It was due to my poor judgement—I simply shouldn’t have been in the sky that night, but I didn’t realize how fast the storm was coming on.”

“Maybe you also have poor judgment in wanting to marry women you’ve met five minutes ago,” I suggest to him.

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