The sound shoots straight through me, and I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to be the reason she makes it.
Shit. This is not good. I cannot be reacting like this with my parents sitting less than three feet on either side. Hell, I shouldn’t be reacting at all. This is strictly platonic.
Finley gushes to my mother, “If this isn’t a treasured family recipe, I’m not leaving here without it.”
Mom laughs. “No family recipe. This was actually an experiment. Mallory and I combined two recipes.”
“Obviously a successful one,” Finley says before she slips her fork into her mouth with another bite.
I’m mesmerized by the sight of her lips wrapping around the tines, and my brain short-circuits like a blown fuse. Every rational thought I’ve ever had packs its bags and leaves town.
Think of something else. Anything else. Like old witches and scary elves.
Where is this coming from? Sure, she’s cute—no, calling Finley cute is like saying the Sistine Chapel is a nice paint job. She’s beautiful. I don’t know how I missed it before, but I’ve seen other beautiful women and kept my cool.
Maybe it’s some kind of reverse transference thing. She’s doing me a favor and charming my family, and my brain’s confusing gratitude for attraction.
Yeah, nice try. Most of me knows that’s a lie, but the small part of me that wants it to be true is screaming the loudest.
I cannot be attracted to Finley O’Brien for a whole slew of reasons, starting with the fact she’s not my type. At. All.
Right?
But the conversation’s continuing without me, and I realize Mom’s talking to Finley. “Mallory and I are doing some Christmas baking tomorrow if you’d like to help.”
Finley’s eyes light up. “I’d love to.”
“Maybe not the entire day,” I say, placing my hand over Finley’s on the table. “I plan to take her to the Christmas market.”
I have no idea where this thought came from, only that I think she’ll like it. It has nothing to do with wanting to spend the afternoon with her—because that would be a terrible idea. I just don’t want her going to the Christmas market on her own. I mean, I should probably at least show her around the town before setting her loose.
“Oh, you have to go to the market,” Mallory says. “They have so many amazing things there.”
“How about we plan on baking in the morning, and you two can go to the market after lunch?” Mom suggests.
Finley looks at me, and I see that she really wants to do both, not that I’m surprised. She wants the full Christmas experience, and I suppose baking is part of that. “If that works for Finley, it works for me.”
Her face lights up with excitement, and a warm feeling builds in my chest. I’m positive if my mother had suggested baking to my previous two girlfriends, they’d be looking for excuses to get out of it. Is that why I’ve got this warm, glowy feeling? I’d like to blame it on alcohol, but I haven’t had a drink in days.
“Val, I think you’ve lost track of time,” Dad says. “Don’t you need to leave soon?”
My mother gasps and jumps to her feet. “Oh, my goodness, you’re right!” She picks up her plate with her half-eaten slice of cake and takes another bite as she walks to the sink. “The group’s smaller this year, so every person counts.” She turns her attention to Finley. “The historical society goes caroling every year.”
“Christmas caroling?” Finley asks, practically bouncing in her seat.
“Yes.”
“We’ll join you.” I say before I can talk myself out of it. Finley wants all that Hollybrook has to offer, and you can’t get much more Christmasy than caroling.
My mother stares at me in shock.
Finley can barely contain her excitement as she turns to face me, clutching my arm. “Really? We can go caroling?”
How can something this simple make her so happy? Then I realize I like seeing her so happy. That’s probably why I offered to come. Plus, it could go a long way toward getting back into her good graces. “Full Christmas experience, right?”
She throws her arms around me and gives me a sideways hug.
Mallory jumps to her feet. “Well, if you two are going, then I’m going too.”
