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“Shenanigans aplenty?”
He waves a hand. “You know what I mean.”
I grin. “You know, Warrick, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look nervous.”
He shoots me an intense look. “You’d be nervous too if you’d had three women trying to find you the love of your life for the last decade. Come on. Let’s go.”
He drops some cash on the table, and before I can even scoot all the way out from the table, he snags my hands and drags me through the restaurant and out the front door.
I hold it together until he pulls out of the parking lot before laughing my ass off. “You look petrified. Are they that bad?”
He glares at me. “You have no idea.”
“Oh I do. There was this woman back home. She was single-handedly responsible for most of the marriages in town, though most of the poor fools didn’t know it.”
His laughter fills the cab of the truck and is brighter than all of the twinkling holiday lights in town.
CHAPTER 9
Warrick
The drive back to Chip’s place passes in easy silence. Me focused on the road and Chip on the Christmas lights that shine through the town.
It’s been several days since our dinner at The Woodsman, and we’ve both stayed busy with work and the enormous task of organizing my office. We just finished date number three, and it was a success if the way she laughed and joked with me is any indication. The town PJ party and movie day went by fast. Too fast almost.
Chip is it for me. From the time I laid eyes on her at the coffee shop, until I got her to finally agree to a date, my heart knew it, my body was close behind, and now my entire being knows it.
If the last few weeks are anything to go off of, I think she’s feeling the same way.
But what if she isn’t? What if this is just fun for her?
What if she never wants to take this to the next level?
The end of the third date was the deadline for me to figure out her name, and I’m no closer now than I was when she tossed the challenge at my feet.
“What are you doing for the rest of the night?” I ask as I park my truck in her driveway.
“Um. Probably going to take a shower and then start my Christmas tradition.”
“Christmas tradition?” I ask.
“Every year, since I was a little girl and read the books with my gran, I’ve spent the days leading up to Christmas watching the Harry Potter movies.”
“I didn’t know you were a Potterhead,” I say.
“Gryffindor and proud of it,” she says.
“I’ve seen the movies, but I don’t think that I’ve ever read the books.”
She gasps, her hand coming up to her chest like she’s having a heart attack, and the gesture makes me smile.
“You’ve never read the books but had the audacity to watch the movies? Don’t you know the books are always better than the movies?”
I chuckle at the passion in her tone and say, “Yeah. I’m not much of a reader to be honest.”
She climbs out of the truck without another word. I quickly unclip my seatbelt and follow her up to the porch.
Well, I guess that’s the end of the night.
