Page 3 of Christmas in July

CHAPTER 1

LEILANI

Iglance over at the handsome man sitting beside me in the tiny, cramped airplane cabin. What a strange coincidence that he happens to be going to the same, random little town as me. A place I’d never even heard of until recently.

Electricity prickles the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. Why does this feel like fate? I watch his large hands moving deftly over the keyboard as he types up his article. Since he rolled up his sleeves a few minutes ago, the sunlight is catching the little blonde hairs on his muscled arms, making them glisten with a reddish glow. Like liquid lava spilling slowly from Kilauea, running in bright orange rivers down to the sea. I stare for a moment, entranced. He is also wearing an interesting bracelet with a steel circle, sitting gently against his strong wrist.

I wish I could touch his hand.

Images dance through my mind of the beautiful vacation I could have with him. Sand and sun, ice cream and laughter, passionate embraces. I can see it all so clearly.

No.Calm down, Leila.

It must be the masculine scent of his cologne filling my head. Or the fact that he is sitting so close that I can feel the warmth of his broad shoulders nearly brushing against mine. Or the charming sound of his voice, and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes when he smiled and made a dumb joke about a hippopotamus. Or maybe the way he is so sharply dressed and accessorized, like he stepped out of a men’s fashion magazine. It makes my heart beat fast.

I’m getting carried away. Getting excited over a complete stranger when I don’t even know his name.Typical me.But I guess it’s better than the alternative. Better than the gloomy way I was feeling earlier.

When I left Hawaii, I was totally hopeless.

Disgruntled and jaded with all my bad experiences with men.

And I meanreally,really bad experiences. As a little girl, I always thought that life would be more like a Disney movie. I thought I’d meet someone and fall deeply in love, and get to wear a big white dress as we started our lives together, full of joy and devotion. A sparkly diamond ring. Disney never warned me that some guys have already started their lives, and done the thing with the big white dress, and are only looking for side chicks for fun.

So many times when I thought I was important to someone, it turned out that I was only entertainment. I would never admit it out loud, because I try to remain positive and cheerful around my close ones, but dating has been absolutelysoul-crushingfor me.

The fact that my twin sister could meet and get engaged to a normal, kind, loving person so easily—when she’s hardly dated anyone at all—gave me a bit of an identity crisis. Like, what the heck am I doing wrong? We look exactly the same, so I know the problem isme.Have I been trying too hard, and hoping too hard? Should I just give up, and let it come to me? Or should I swear off men entirely and attempt to date women instead?

I sip my champagne, bought for me by the gorgeous blond stranger, as I stare out the window at the vast, blue Pacific. I probably shouldn’t even consider the possibility of anything romantic, with him or anyone else, because the moment I try, something will surely go wrong. I should just focus on myself, and have a wonderful vacation, traveling the world for the first time with no worries. I probably shouldn’t ask his name, or make any more small talk.

Ten more hours or so on this flight, then I’ll never see him again.

I can survive ten hours beside Mr. Sophisticated and Way-Too-Sexy Writer Dude.

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat as he pauses his furious typing. “I’m sorry that I’m being so rude—usually I’m a better conversationalist, I swear. This deadline just has me very stressed. My boss has really been on my ass lately, pushing me to do better work. So, I’m trying my best to write something epic here.”

“No worries at all,” I tell him, lifting my glass. “I’m enjoying the champagne. Just focus on your deadline.”

“I would really love to chat later, once I finish all this,” he says, gesturing to the computer with a sigh. Then he reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a pair of slender reading glasses. When he slides them onto his nose, I feel my insides melt at how adorable he looks. Hot damn. That’s really not fair.

“It’s fine,” I tell him, taking another sip and trying to remain aloof. “I’ll probably pass out on you in a few minutes, anyway. Wine makes me sleepy.”

“I wish I could join you,” he says, running a hand back through his dirty blonde hair, and making it look somehow evenbetterwhen it’s messy. I feel like we just went from boardroom to bedroom. The plane has gotten suddenly a lot smaller, warmer, and more intimate with him showing me this casual and comfortable side of him instead of the polished and professional image he first presented. His posture has even relaxed a bit as he reaches up to loosen his tie.

“It’s Theodore, by the way,” he says with a smile. “Theodore Townsend. But you can call me Theo.”

Dammit. His smile in those cute glasses melts all the parts of me that haven’t already melted. Why does he have to have such an adorable name? This is absolute torture. I want to ask him if I can call himTeddybut I just decided that I was never going to see him again after this flight, so I’d better not get too attached.

“I’m Leilani,” I tell him. “You can call me Leila or Lani.”

“Leilani,” he repeats, testing my name on his tongue. “That’s a lovely name for a lovely little lady. Leilani.”

God help me. He’s going to be hard to resist.

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