Page 2 of Twelve Dates of Christmas

Chapter Two

~ Holly ~

“Hi. Ready for this thing?”

I stared at the dark-haired god who’d just chased away the guy with boy next door looks who had just been here.

Ready for this thing?No.

Speed dating. What a ridiculous thing. My sister, Iris, had insisted I needed to get out and meet someone. She’d actually registered me for the event before she’d ever told me about it, and I knew she’d check in on me to make sure I went.

All the way here, I prayed this date thing wouldn’t go longer than the hour designated. I was supposed to meet twelve men and talk to each for four minutes, hence the Twelve Dates of Christmas. And if these were actually considered dates, they were probably the only ones I’d get for this holiday. I didn’t exactly go out.

I nervously crossed my legs in my ridiculous, knee-high heeled boots. They’d tapped on the sidewalk as I’d hurried through the cold, reminding me of how useless they’d be if the weather turned inclement. Now, looking at Mr. Pushy here, they seemed even more ridiculous and completely out of my comfort zone. Really, they weren’t even mine. They’d been pushed on me by my sister who’d thought I should look chic at this event. She hadn’t really approved of my black jeans and red fuzzy sweater, but she’d agreed they were appropriate for the casual, afternoon speed dates. This wasn't my normal style, though. I was more of a yoga pants and T-shirts kind of girl.

This guy had decided to dress up, however. He wore a nice gray wool suit that complemented his hazel eyes. I wondered absently if they were the sort that changed color depending on his surroundings. They were pretty by any measure.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, finally answering him. “I mean I’m not even sure what happens at one of these things, to tell the truth.”

Or a date for that matter. I had a general idea. I watched the Hallmark channel and rom-com movies, after all, but I’d never been out with a guy. When I was in high school, I wasn’t exactly the girl that the boys were tripping over themselves to ask out. Since then, I’d just been too busy. Either I was working or I was sleeping so I could work some more.

“Me, either,” he said with a negligent shrug. “It’s the experience, though, right? I suppose they’re going to tell us what to do before the event starts.” He tapped the papers he’d set on the little table between us. “And I have the talking points right here.”

“Did you look at them?” I asked.

“Of course not,” he replied in faux shock. “That would be cheating.”

I glanced in the direction of the other man he’d chased off. “Somehow…that doesn’t really seem like it would be an issue for you.”

He smirked, not even seeming to care that I was on to him, but before he could reply, one of the organizers picked up the microphone. It squealed as he started to welcome us. I winced at the sound but tried to keep a pleasant look on my face while he spoke and went through the order of the next hour. After all, it wasn’t his fault the mic made the awful sounds.

“The timer will mark the beginning and end of each session,” he said. “Please do not delay in moving to another station when the timer chimes, as we don’t have much time between each date. Just have fun!” he cried then slapped his hand onto the digital clock beside him. The first alert went off, a deafening chime of jingling bells. I noticed he hadn’t asked us if there were any questions. Probably a smart move given the size of this crowd.

I turned back to my “date” to find him opening the instructions in an envelope marked with a large red ONE for the first date.

“Hi, I’m Rylan,” he said, reading and filling in his name. “On the first day of Christmas there was a partridge in a pear tree.” His brow furrowed. “Seriously?” he said, eyeing the card in disbelief. “I’m supposed to ask what you think of partridge. Who actually has an opinion on partridges?”

“I can’t say that I do.”

“Hmm…yeah, well, to tell the truth, my only opinion is that I’m diametrically opposed to giving animals as gifts.”

“Agreed. But as for partridges…I’m not really much of a bird person. Not that I’ve really thought about it.”

“Huh…I thought they meant eating partridge. I think people do. I’m more of a plain chicken or turkey guy.”

He dropped the paper atop the pile. “How about my own question? What do you really want for Christmas?”

My brow furrowed. It might seem strange, but no one in my entire life had ever asked me that. Seriously…no one. Not my sister. She usually asked for things from me—this date thing was an anomaly and I hadn’t figured out her angle yet. Not my parents, who hadn’t ever been much into parenting. My mom had died when I was in middle school, and honestly, my father had disappeared my senior year of high school. And none of my friends asked, but they were more of acquaintances and coworkers than anything else.

Was that pathetic?

Sad?

Worse…I didn’t know what to say to Rylan.

“I…really like books.” My voice raised at the end, sounding more like a question than an answer.

I mean what I really needed was a new car. So I guess I should want that. On the way here, I’d prayed my beater would warm up enough so it would keep my windows cleared, at least. It had. Kind of.

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