“For being excited about all these traditions that I love. It’s so much more enjoyable when I don’t have to defend each activity. Or feel stupid for loving them.”
“You’re welcome.” I keep her stare a few seconds longer, liking how alive everything inside my body feels. I drop my eyes to my bowl of ice cream. I wish I didn’t have to. I wish I could gaze into her animated eyes as long as I wanted.
“Then next Thursday night, we’re getting together with my best friend Vivian and her boyfriend to decorate Christmas cookies to take to the nursing home. On Saturday, we visit Irvine Ranch, where we’ll see Santa and go on the sleigh ride.” She glances up at me with a guilty expression. “Wednesday, Thursday,andSaturday. That’s three activities next week. I hope it’s okay.”
I cast my eyes over her pretty face and how she bites her bottom lip when she’s nervous. “It’s not a problem.”
Our stares stay on each other a little longer this time before she glances down at her spoonful of ice cream. It’s like the more time we spend with each other, the longer we allow our gazes to hold.
“I don’t need to go through each activity with you. All the information is on the calendar. You can figure it out.”
“I’m sure I can.”
“And the best part is, if you stick to my schedule, you’ll have the perfect Christmas season.”
“The perfect Christmas season? That’s a pretty bold statement.”
“Not a bold statement. It’s truth.” Her shrug comes with a side order of cockiness that I absolutely adore. “This is a tried-and-true Christmas agenda. Stick with me, Davidson, and you’ll be so jolly this Christmas they’ll be begging you to be Santa Claus.”
I scrunch my nose, shaking my head at her. “Who’sthey?”
“I have no clue.” She lifts her shoulders, dropping a spoonful of mint chocolate chip into her mouth. “But they will.” She taps her calendar a few times with the tip of her spoon. “‘Cause this is a recipe for success.”
“I like your confidence.”More than I probably should.“But, you know, I had a different plan for the season. Maybe we should do both plans simultaneously and see whose activities are better.”
“You had a plan?” she says over another spoonful of ice cream. “I don’t believe it.”
“Why not?”
“Because men don’t plan.”
I reach for my phone and open my notes. I angle the screen so she can read the list of activities I had brainstormed for my stay in Telluride.
“Ice climbing, snowshoeing, fat biking, backcountry skiing.” Her gaze darts to me. “These aren’t holiday activities. They’re recreational suggestions.”
“Same as yours.” I gesture to the calendar.
“Not the same.”
“We’re doing these.” I lift the phone in front of her face.
“You can do them.” She pushes my arm away. “You have my blessing. On your off days from me, go and recreate.”
“No, we’re doing themtogether.”
She eyes me like I’m crazy. “I’m not doing all of that.”
“Have you ever done any of it before?”
“I know how to ski, but I haven’t done any of the other stuff.”
I click my tongue. “I’m disappointed in you, Summer. I thought you liked adventure. I took you for the kind of girl who’s up for anything.”
“I am.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Deep down, we both know what the problem is.
