Page 4 of Twelve Dates of Christmas

Chapter Three

~ Holly ~

I sat down at the first open table I found, readying myself for another strained conversation and promising myself that I’d be a better conversationalist this time.

One could only hope. Working at a local office as a maid and trying to make a go of my online planner and sticker business didn’t really give me much opportunity to talk with others, which was usually fine. I was way too busy scraping by—barely—to socialize much, and truthfully, I was a bit shy.

Staring at my hands in my lap, I psyched myself up and forced myself not to look around and see where Rylan had headed. I didn’t want to see him with some bubbly perky cheerleader type—any girl who might mesmerize him, honestly.

“Hi, I’m Rylan.”

My lips parted as I stared at the man who’d taken the seat across from me. “Aren’t we supposed to switch partners?”

I couldn’t say I was disappointed to see him across from me, though. It had only been a few minutes with him, and he already felt comfortable to me.

“Mmm…” he hummed. “I don’t really feel like doing that. You’re the only one I’m here for.”

“Me?” I squeaked, the reaction lost in the sound of the bells going off. They were supposed to sound like jingle bells, but really, they were just obnoxiously loud.

“Yeah, I saw you outside on your way in here. And I wanted to meet you.”

Again…shocked.

“So, hi, I’m Rylan,” he said, looking at the card for date two.

“Holly,” I said, charmed that he didn’t skip this part.

Feeling a little more comfortable, I studied him. The guy was built. He had wide shoulders and a chest that matched. He’d taken off his suit coat and draped it over the back of his chair when he sat. The pale silver button-down he’d worn beneath, strained slightly over his pecs and shoulders. He wasn’t mammoth or anything, just powerfully built, and his narrow waist and flat belly proclaimed him fit, as well. Sadly, I’d been distracted both times he’d stood near me, but looking at him now, I got the impression he was tall, taller than me, even in these ridiculous boots.

“So Holly… Um, okay. These questions are crazy.” He made a scoffing sound and set down the card. “The second day of Christmas is two calling birds. Do you prefer calling or texting and why?”

“Texting. It’s quicker.”

“Calling,” he countered. “That way I could hear your sweet voice.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, too—your voice. Not mine.”

He slipped his phone from his pocket. “So let’s do a dry run on this texting thing. Your number?”

I glanced around, because really, I was a rule follower. “I’m not sure we’re supposed to do that.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, capturing my entire attention down to my very last ion. Right then, I was pretty sure I’d do whatever he wanted.

“I think that train has left the station,” he murmured.

“We do seem a little off the rails,” I agreed.

“See!” he crowed. “There you go.”

So I gave him my number, and a moment later, my phone vibrated.

I’d still rather hear your voice.

I blushed. “You’re sweet.”

“Truthful. So let’s expedite this. I’d really like to take you to the coffee shop next door. So…” He flipped through the papers. “Three French hens. Do you speak any foreign languages and have you traveled to another country?”

“I took a year of Spanish in high school because it was required. I don’t remember a lot,” I admitted. “And no. No foreign countries. You?”

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