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“Hey, Allison.” Bixby had a stack of what looked like insurance folios on the bar top. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me. You’re late.”

That was odd phrasing. But maybe that’s the kind of man Bixby was. “Did you just get off work?” I nodded toward his stack of folios.

“Yes and no.” Bixby turned to face me, smiling in a way that I no longer found handsome. I preferred Nick’s effervescent smile. Bixby’s seemed calculated in comparison. “What plans do you have for the future?”

“Plans? Funny that you’d ask. I’m retiring as a professional dancer and – ”

“You’re unemployed?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that.” I was taking on a managerial role at the boutique with my parents as silent partners. Or at least, that was the plan if Dad approved. But before I had a chance to explain, Bixby was charging onward with what was increasingly sounding like a sales pitch.

“Do you have any savings plans from your time as a dancer?” His gaze assessed my outfit, including my faux fur. His smile hardened. “Any 401k or I.R.A.s?”

“No.” I laughed. I’d needed every penny to survive in New York.

“Your future is important, Allison. There’s no reason to laugh.” Bixby flipped open one of his folios. “Do you know how many people reach retirement age and have no funds to pay for assisted living? Or how many people pass away without having saved a dime to pass on to their kids?”

“But…I’m twenty-nine.” Not to mention I didn’t have kids.

“You need to think about these things, Allison.” Bixby circled a figure on a sheet with a pen printed with Daniels Insurance. “You need to plan for your future in monthly increments.”

“You don’t know how accurate I find those words,” I murmured, although not for the reasons Bixby clearly wanted me to share. “Can I ask you a question?”

“About interest rates? Or retirement strategies?” Bixby graced me with that friendly smile he’d used when he’d seen me on the street a few days ago.

“Neither.” I waved off the approaching bartender. “Is this a date?”

“No!” Bixby recoiled, nearly falling over backward on his bar stool.

“Good.” I slid off the stool and gathered my things as another woman approached Bixby, smile fading when she realized I’d been sitting with him. I wished her good luck and headed for the door.

I was sure that Nick was home having a good laugh about my meeting with Bixby. He had to have known I’d been targeted for a life insurance pitch. And he couldn’t tell me?

I probably deserved that.

I’d been glowing when he’d accosted me on the street earlier in the week, trying to rewrite a piece of my past. I knew better now. Being visible to Bixby back then wouldn’t have made my teenage memories any sweeter than my time with Nick.

I left the restaurant, hugging the jacket around me against the cold of falling snow. My black sandals were impractical in this weather and my feet were immediately chilled.

Someone in the parking lot tooted their horn.

I glanced up mid-stride, and then stopped.

Nick had backed his truck up to the restaurant’s walkway and came to stand at the back fender. A snowman had been built in the truck bed. Frosty wore a black top hat, a red and green wool scarf, and his stick arms held a sign that read:Allie, prom?

Nick fidgeted at the tailgate. He was wearing a black suit and tie beneath a black wool overcoat. He smiled at me, but only a little, as if unsure of where we stood. I imagined I looked the same.

“What’s this?” I walked toward him, heart pounding. “A promposal?”

He nodded. “I’m only about ten years too late.”

This man would never cease to surprise and delight me. I laughed as I reached him. “I was hoping you’d ask.” I reached inside my coat pocket and handed him what I’d been carrying around all day.

He stared at the red Christmas card envelope with suspicion. “This is addressed to Rudolph.”

I nodded. “We both know who Rudolph is.” It was Nick. There was no other explanation. I put a finger on my nose and wiggled it. “Earlier this week, you told me that you knew me better than anyone. But I think that works both ways.” I took a step closer and took his hand. “You are a good man, Nicholas Stocking. You love to be in the kitchen, but you also love helping people, feeding people, and making them smile. You’re one of the most responsible people I’ve ever met. You’re kind and generous and always seem to find the silver lining in a situation, even when I can’t see it.” I took his hand and drew it close to my heart. “You have got to be the most patient man on the planet. Waiting for me to chase after my dreams couldn’t have been easy.”

“Did you rehearse this speech?” he said gruffly, snow glittering on his dark brown hair.


Tags: Melinda Curtis Romance