Page 13 of A Holly Jilly Christmas

How does anyone answer that question? It’s like Regina George telling Cady she’s pretty in Mean Girls and then turning it into an attack: “So you agree? You think you’re really pretty?”

But I don’t want to disappoint Case. Why this matters so much, I can’t say. Probably my stupid crush, which has been given new life now that Case said I’m attractive.

“I’m just shocked that you think I’m attractive,” I say slowly.

“I’ve got 20/20 vision.” He picks up his fork and takes another bite of chicken.

Like it’s just a routine fact.

I'm attractive.

The table has coffee rings on it.

I'm attractive.

It’s snowing.

I’m attractive.

I really am not one of those women who fishes for compliments, and it’s not like I think I’m some kind of hideous beast. But I don’t have the kind of face that draws attention across a room. My eyes are large and maybe a little too close together. My nose has a bump in the middle and my blond hair and I are rarely on speaking terms.

Guys I’ve dated have called me cute and pretty. Beautiful even, but usually only while trying to convince me to invite them back to my place or come to theirs. (For the record, that never works for them.)

So it’s not like I’m one of those girls with low self-esteem. And I’m definitely not asking for more compliments, though I’d take more if he offered them. Then again, it might be detrimental to my health. Heck—Case paid me one compliment, and now I’m over here malfunctioning. If he paid me two, Big Mo would need to tow me out to the garage with Tina to have someone look under my hood.

I’m still sputtering, trying to come up with a response or even locate my tongue, when Case sets down his fork and knife again, then wipes his mouth with his napkin. He meets my gaze and then the most amazing thing happens: he smiles.

The time he smiled about that one bad employee getting the ax was NOTHING like this.

It would be like trying to compare watching a solar eclipse to flying a spaceship directly into the sun. I know in reality, the craft would burn up well before reaching the sun’s atmosphere, and that’s exactly how I feel.

I’m across the table from Case and his gorgeous smile and surprise dimples—DIMPLES, people!—barely peeking out above his beard. My total kryptonite!—and all my instrument panels controlling bodily functions have melted.

“Now you know two facts about me, Jillian. I have a janky GI tract, and I have perfect vision, which means I am aware you are an attractive woman.”

I want to demand follow-up information. Like, does he objectively think I’m attractive or is he ATTRACTED to me? But I am nowhere near a brave enough soul for that line of questioning.

I also don’t want to be disappointed when he explains again that he simply has perfect vision.

What I ask instead is, “Did you just use the word janky?”

His smile turns into a smirk, and it’s even more off-putting. “I did, indeed. Now, quid pro quo, Jillian. If we’re going to be together for the next two days, it seems we should be getting to know each other. Don’t you think?”

“Yes?”

I swear his face falls a little when it comes out of my mouth as a question.

“I mean, as colleagues.” He goes back to cutting his chicken and not looking at me.

Oh. Right. We are colleagues. I’d do well to remember that. Colleagues who each happen to think the other is attractive. Not that I’ve admitted my feelings, which are not based on my vision. And anyway, Case HAS to know, objectively, that he’s quite a hunk of a man. Despite his best efforts at being unapproachable, the women in the office are always throwing themselves at him.

I’m still not over the attractive comment, so of course I continue along my path of saying stupid things. “Colleagues who have knowledge of things like each other’s bowels.”

He grimaces. “I would have preferred not to start there, but it’s kind of a relief to be open about it, honestly. I don’t talk about it with anyone, and I assume we’ll be sharing meals. Maybe now you’ll stop teasing me about my food.”

“I'm sorry,” I say, feeling miserable about the remarks I made.

“Don’t be. I don’t mind you teasing me. Just not about that.”

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