I might have a deep respect and admiration for my parents’ marriage, and want nothing more than to have something similar for myself someday, but thinking about their sex life? Nope. Not going there.
“Back to the movie choices,” I say, trying to refocus the conversation. “Do we show our support for Hollie and watch some of her older movies? Or boycott Adored Network and find something else.”
“It’s not Christmas if we don’t watch at least one Hollie Berry movie,” Mom reasons. “Put onAll Snowed Inn. That’s got Ian Brock in it and he’s just yummy.”
I laugh at that; Mom’s had a crush on Ian Brock for years. “Deal.”
With the movie on, we finally get to work decorating the dozens of gingerbread cookies Mom and I use as gifts for people in the town each year. It’s a labour of love, that’s for sure, but it’s also a major stress reliever for me. Which right now, leading up to exam week, I need.
Several hours and too many cookies to count later, we’re done. And with a steaming mug of mulled wine in hand, we sink down on the couch in my parents’ living room.
“Phew. I swear, every year I tell myself this is it, no more cookies. And every year, we find ourselves here again, covered in flour and sprinkles.”
“Come on, Mom. You love it.” I nudge her with my foot.
“I do, but it’s not the cookies. It’s spending time with my girl.” Her hand pats my leg. “It’s only a matter of time before you find someone, fall madly in love, and start making your own traditions. Then days like this will be just a fond memory.”
I snort lightly. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said. First of all, I don’t care what’s going on in my life, I willalwayswant to have cookie day with you. And second of all, just who am I going to fall madly in love with? There’s not exactly a lot of prospects in Dogwood Cove, and every guy my age has already been scared off by the boys.”
Mom just laughs, but I know she’s more than aware of how many times my idiot big brothers have chased off dates or boyfriends I’ve had. “Oh Kat, they just want you to be happy.”
“Then maybe they should back off a little,” I grumble, taking a sip of my mulled wine.
“Is there someone in particular you’re hoping they’ll back off on?” she asks, giving me an innocent-looking smile.
“No, nope. Of course not. No one,” I answer quickly, avoiding her curious gaze.
“Hmm. Alright. If you say so,” Mom says coyly. “So, no date for the animal shelter gala?”
“There is someone I want to ask, but I’m scared the boys will just scare him off,” I blurt out, wincing at my confession.
“Oh honey, your brothers mean well. But if you want them to back off, just tell them that.”
“I have,” I grumble. “Every single time they interfered with a guy I was dating or interested in, I told them to stay out of it, and they never do.”
“Well, any man worthy of you would be plenty strong enough to stand up to the boys.”
I take another sip of my warm drink, and cautiously, slowly, allow myself to imagine the possibility of actually asking Hunter to go as my date to the gala.
“Maybe you need to channel your inner Hollie. I’m not saying asking whoever this man is to the gala would put you on the naughty list, as she puts it, but whyshouldn’tyou go for what you want?” Mom says gently, then her voice hardens into that steely mom-tone we all knew growing up not to mess with. “And if your idiot brothers do anything to get in the way of what you want, I’ll be having words with them.”
It’s a couple of days before I see Hunter again. And even though I’m beyond frazzled from finally finishing exam week, I’ve had plenty of time to think about what my mom, Lily, and Hollie Berry have said.
And they’re right.
There’s no real reason not to ask Hunter to go with me to the fundraiser except my fear of rejection. And that’s just not a good enough reason anymore. I’ve gone for everything I want in life, without hesitation. So why not this?
Of course, when I finally see Hunter walk through the door of Camille’s, looking as delicious in his uniform as he always does, the nervous feeling in my stomach turns from cute little butterflies to a full-on tornado.
I stumble toward him, grateful the café isn’t too busy right now. Less witnesses if this all goes horribly wrong and he says no.
“Hey, Kitty Kat,” he says, giving me that adorable smile, the one that makes a dimple in his cheek pop. That errant lock of hair has flopped over his forehead again, and I focus my eyes there.
“Hi Hunter.” Oh God, why is my voice so high-pitched? I clear my throat and try again. “Hi. Umm, are you staying for lunch today?”
He nods, still smiling his perfect smile. If anything, it grows wider. “Yep. Why? Are you on a break? Am I finally going to get the pleasure of your company for more than the thirty seconds it takes you to drop off my sandwich?”
He’s teasing, I’m sure of this, but man, oh man, do I want him to be serious about wanting my company.