“Thirteen. And, why?” she asks, clearly perplexed. Is she kidding?

“Because we’re friends. And, it seems only fair that I buy you a drink after you shared your appetizer with me.” I give my stained Italian silk-wool blend a wry glance and watch her cheeks grow pink.

“I’m very sorry about that, Nick. I’ll pay for it to be-”

“No matter. Just don’t call me Mr. Frost again and we’ll call it even.” She grins and agrees as the host finds us a table.

Okay, so how do I pitch this? It isn’t your run-of-the-mill request.

The answer? You feed the lady.

Then, you feed her cat.

4-Carol

You want to know what’s more embarrassing than having your childhood friend/teenage crush see you get heckled and then fired from your lounge act singing gig? It’s breaking down in tears after bravely asking him if you can order the big salad for yourself and the chef’s tuna specialty to go.

He didn’t bat an eye when I asked. He said, ‘of course,’ and I started picturing my purr-baby’s happy num-num-munchy sounds and the waterworks started up. My period is due, alright?

“Carol?”

“I’m fine,”I’d sobbed. Pathetic.

However, there are no tears in sight as I’m happily tucking into my velvety-smooth chocolate cake for dessert – I had salad and my period is due! - with my to-go tuna for Mr. Jinglebell boxed up beside me when Nick Frost asks me for a favor. “A really big favor and an unusual one.”

“A favor?” I repeat with my fork poised over my calorie fest.

“Yeah…”

He glances down at his lap and grins, that boyish, adorable grin that used to stir the butterflies in my tummy when I was eleven and first realized I didn’t just like Nick, Ilikedhim. That grin of his still stirs all my butterflies. And my lady bits.

He looks around and I can tell whatever this favor is, he’s having a hard time spitting it out. Does he need me to do a singing telegram for one of his business friends? Or help him hide out from the mafia?

“Is your place nearby? Could we maybe talk there?”

Whoa. This is not a telegram request. Still undecided about the mafia issue.

“I don’t have my own place. I’m new in town and crashing at an acquaintance’s apartment for now. I was looking for a week-to-week room but…” They’re expensive. And, that was before I got fired tonight. “Never mind. She’s working tonight so you can come over.”

His voice dips lower and something wicked momentarily flashes in those eyes. “Thanks, Carol.” I’m suddenly feeling hot all over. Those butterflies in my stomach are doing the Conga with my salad.

Nick pays the check and leads me to the valet stand out front. When the kid pulls up in a Bugatti, I want to laugh and maybe cry a little. “Are you serious with this car?”

He has the decency to blush but the million-dollar-plus ride just accentuates the fact that, even if we were once friends, we’re galaxies apart now.

When I climb in, the radio’s playing ‘Mistletoe Muse.’ Out of habit, I quickly turn it off. “You’re sick of Christmas music, too, huh?” he chuckles as he slips into the driver’s seat.

“Uh huh.”Sick of being reminded of the success I almost was.

I bite my lip and clutch Mr. Jinglebell’s tuna tightly against my chest when I see Nick looking at me with concern. “I’ve never been in a car like this. Wanna show me how fast she can go?”

There’s that grin again.Hello, Butterflies. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Drive it like you stole it, Nicky.”

???

Two hours later, Mr. Jinglebell is in Tuna Heaven and Nick and I are seated side by side on the couch, aka, my temporary bed discussing his proposal. “Let me get this straight. You want me to go home to Whistler with you and pretend to be your girlfriend?”