Page 39 of A Holly Jilly Christmas

“Promise.”

I watch Case carefully, feeling my muscles unclenching as I do. Whatever is on the screen, I feel certain that Case does not have another woman in his life. He isn’t coming for my job. He is the man I’ve been discovering since we set out on this trip.

Before saying a word, I reach out and slide my palm into his, giving it a big squeeze. A tiny gesture, and yet a huge one for me, offering trust before he gives me the full explanation.

“I promise not to make fun of you … too much.”

He groans, but grins, sliding the phone across the table where it’s open to some kind of webcam.

“What …?”

“That is my girl,” he says.

“It’s a bunny,” I say, dumbfounded. The tawny golden rabbit is hopping around a stainless steel enclosure with torn newspaper at the bottom. It has tufts of hair sticking up everywhere around its face like a permanent case of bedhead.

“She’s a lionhead rabbit. She had surgery Friday morning. My sister did it—that’s why I was in Austin. And I’ve been watching her on the webcam, just to check in.”

“You’ve been watching your pet rabbit—”

“Persephone,” he adds.

“You’ve been watching your pet rabbit named Persephone on a webcam after her surgery.”

“See why I made you promise?”

Case shifts a little on his side of the booth. He has nothing to worry about though. I think this is a-freaking-dorable.

“Will I get to meet her?”

His grin widens. “You’ll have to. We’re a package deal, me and Percy.”

“She has a nickname but I don’t?”

“I tried Butter and you didn’t like it.”

“Who would want to be called Butter, Case?”

“I’m sure some women would appreciate it. Do you want me to call you Jilly? I will. But you feel like a Jillian to me.”

“I like the way you say my name,” I admit.

“Jillian,” he whispers, shifting his features into something so over the top faux sexy that I can’t stop laughing.

“Easy, tiger. Save that voice for when we’re not in a diner.”

“Noted,” he says, picking up my hand and kissing my knuckles. “Now, are we okay? Any more questions?”

“We’re good. I’m sorry for looking at your phone. And for assuming.”

“I don’t want secrets between us. You can look at my phone any time. I completely understand how those texts would seem. But you came to me with your questions. You did good. Trust means we come to each other directly if we’re feeling unsure or anxious. Okay?”

“I’ll try to fight against my instincts to self-destruct.” I pause. “You don’t think I’m too much for you?”

“Oh, you’re definitely too good for me.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Too bad because that’s my answer. Now, don’t we need to get going?”

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