Page 3 of Twelve Dates of Christmas

“What about you?” I asked quickly to deflect away from me. I was kind of bad at this. And by this I meant conversation. I didn’t have them often unless it was my boss giving me instructions or my sister telling me all about what was happening in her ah-mazing life while I listened. Honestly, most of my talking was chatting it up with my two year old niece.

“Your name. I’d really like your name.”

I blinked at him. Hadn’t I told him? “It’s Holly.”

“Holly,” he repeated. It rolled off his tongue, and I suddenly knew what I wanted. More than anything. I wanted to hear him say it again. Often.

That didn’t seem meant to be. Before we could exchange anything else, the jangling chimes went off, signaling it was time to switch. “It was nice to meet you, Rylan,” I said, regretting it was time to say goodbye. “Thank you for the chat.”

He nodded, his hazel eyes twinkling. And I was suddenly super jealous of whoever he ended up with next.

My hands felt a little sweaty, so I covertly wiped one on my thigh then held it out to shake his hand. His amusement seemed to grow as his fingers closed around mine.

“Holly,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Before I swooned or did something dumb, I got up and headed for another open table. Was this going to be twelve sessions of build up, expectation and let down? I wasn’t up for that. This hour would be torture.

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