“Yeah… of course.” His eyes hold mine, and I try to appear as if my heart isn’t racing. “I’d love to go. Sounds like fun.”
“There’s a catch,” I say.
“Always is. Let’s hear it.”
“You have to wear a holiday sweater. It can be funny, an ugly sweater, or whatever. It just has to be on theme. If you don’t have one, we can find something in town this afternoon.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “You have no idea the family I come from. I have the perfect thing.”
“You mean you just happen to have a holiday sweater with you?”
Itcannotbe charming. Ican’tfind Carter charming. It’s one of those odd things about someone that you tell your friends after the breakup. Like, he had a holiday sweater, isn’t that so weird?
“’Tis the season.” He winks.
I ignore the way my belly swoops. “We’re leaving at seven.”
“I’ll be ready.”
We both turn back toward the TV and watch the rest of the movie in silence.
Chapter Twelve
CARTER
At three minutes to seven, I hustle down the stairs to meet Ashley at the front door.
I was surprised when she invited me to the dance tonight. Is it possible that she’s forgiven me fully?
As expected, Ashley is already waiting for me, coat and scarf on, fuzzy red earmuffs over her ears. She takes one look at my sweater and bursts into laughter.
God, the sound of it makes me want to puff out my chest as if I’m some superhero because I made her laugh. One thing I’ve realized about Ashley is that she never laughs to be polite. If she laughs, it means you’ve done something to earn it. And for whatever reason, that makes me feel pretty damn special.
“Nice sweater.” Her grin makes her eyes sparkle.
I look at my chest where there’s a big Santa head, and underneath, it saysWhere My Hos At?
“Thanks. What are you wearing under all that?” The words come out weighted with innuendo, something I didn’t intend, at least not on a conscious level. She’s made it really clear that I blew my chance at having anything with her six months ago.
“You’ll see soon enough. It might blow your mind actually.” And she turns toward the door to leave.
Images of her in red lace and garters fill my mind. Which I’m sure isn’t what’s under her coat.
I follow her out to her truck and climb inside. The night air is crisp, and snowflakes float down to the ground, swirling up around the tires of the vehicle in front of us. It’s a quick drive to the community hall.
We follow the car in front of us into the parking lot, and Ashley finds a spot even though the lot is almost full. I insist on paying for the tickets when we go inside, something Ashley tries to argue with me about, but I don’t back down. Eventually, she says a reluctant “thank you” and stops arguing with me about it.
When we walk through the double doors, the first thing I notice is the large Christmas tree in the far corner, decorated with lights and what looks like paper decorations. Loud music pumps out through speakers set up in every corner. I don’t recognize the song, but it’s upbeat, and there’s a smattering of people on the dance floor. This must be an adults-only dance, because there are no kids running around.
Food and drink are set up along one wall, and round tables are on the opposite side of the room—some full, some with only a person or two sitting at them. There’s a small stage about three feet up from the floor on the far end as well.
“C’mon, let’s hang our jackets up,” Ashley says. She nods toward our right and leads me to a rolling coat rack.
I grab a hanger and motion for her to remove her jacket.
“I can hang it up myself.” Her forehead wrinkles.
“Despite what every woman on a dating app might tell you, chivalry is not, in fact, dead.” I hold out my hand, waiting for her to give me her coat.
