Page 112 of The Single Dad Project

His chin jerked back, and he widened his eyes in exaggerated offense.

“Me? I beg your pardon.” He splayed his fingers wide over his chest. “Name one time I didn’t keep a secret.”

She tapped her chin, eyes squinted.

“You mean like when you spilled to Jeremy about the surprise party we planned for him at the office?”

“He knew about it anyway.” Patrick scoffed.

“Or about the time you told Kat about the new car Sam bought her?” Brooklyn continued, poking him in the chest. “Or when you let it slip to Katherine what the sex of her baby was and pretty much ruined the gender reveal party her husband had planned.”

“You dug deep for that one. That was three years ago,” he muttered.

“John still gives you side-eye when he comes to the office,” she pointed out.

“Fine.” He threw up his hands. “So a few times I’veaccidentallydivulged some information.” He ignored her snort. “How about a bet?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What kind of bet?”

“If you tell about the—” he dramatically lowered his voice “—situation, then you have to declare February second Patrick King Day, and it comes with a cake and speech extolling all of my virtues. Don’t worry. I’ll write it for you.”

“And if I win,” she said, leaning forward, “you have to walk down Main Street carrying a sign that says Brooklyn Hayes Rocks. Deal?” She thrust out her hand toward him.

“Deal.”

They shook on it. And grinned at one another.

“You’re going down, King.”

“Bring it, Mrs. King.”

CHAPTER THREE

“TEN... NINE...EIGHT... SEVEN...”

Brooklyn shouted along with the rest of Rose Bend’s citizens, counting down the seconds until...

“One!”

The lights on the enormous Christmas tree in the middle of The Glen, a huge meadow at the end of Main Street, flared to life. Though this was her umpteenth Christmas tree lighting, the event that kicked off Yulefest, it never failed to fill her with a sense of awe. The towering tree in the middle of the field with its homemade ornaments and beautiful glass balls was the perfect emblem for the holiday and the festival that drew visitors from neighboring cities and states.

The beauty of the tree and the holiday cheer that seemed to permeate the air almost wiped away the memories and anxiety of the disastrous family dinner earlier that evening.

Almost.

A vise grip tightened around her chest, and she inhaled a breath, attempting to release the hold that very recent memory had on her.

“This never gets old,” Patrick murmured from beside her, nearly echoing her thoughts from moments ago.

“It really doesn’t.” She smiled and pretended not to notice how the red, blue and green lights highlighted his chiseled cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw and that full bottom lip. Nope. She didn’t notice at all. “It’s no wonder why this is my favorite time of year.”

“Mine, too.” He glanced down at her, the corner of his mouth quirked. “And it has nothing to do with the bonus you give us at work.”

“Of course not.” She smirked. Shifting her gaze back to the tree, she sighed. “You know, it’s ironic.” She huffed out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “When I was younger, I would dream about my wedding day. And I pictured getting married right in front of this tree. I’d carry a bouquet of poinsettias and have them in my hair. And I’d wear a white fur shawl over my dress. AndI Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clausby the Jackson 5 would be playing as I walked down the aisle.” At Patrick’s snicker, she held up a gloved hand. “Listen, I was eleven.” But her quiet laughter joined his. “God, I haven’t thought of that in a long time.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get the wedding you imagined,” Patrick murmured.

“That was a girl’s dream,” she said, waving away his words with a flick of her hand. But she couldn’t dismiss the twinge in her chest at the long-forgotten memory. Silly. The regret in her heart was silly. “And I’m far from being that little girl. Life isn’t a thirty-minute sitcom or a romance movie. More like women’s fiction with horror elements.”

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