My own smile is instant. “I hope so.”
“Will you answer now?” Oliver whispers. Low and intimate, like he’s afraid of learning the answer.
Toying with a button on my coat, I look back at Nacho for courage. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to share with someone else. Someone permanent. Most people in my life become temporary, no matter how hard I work to keep them. Not to mention, if my family thought I was doing something wrong as a dog owner, I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Showing your commitment to another through shared ownership,” he nods. “Essentially, having someone else prove their own commitment to you in a way no one else ever has, especially those who should have.”
I snort. “I guess I’ve never thought about it quite like that. But sure.” Shifting in my seat, I fully face the man I’m supposedly in love with. “Okay, rapid fire. Ready?”
Though I doubt Oliver’s ever looked less sure of anything in his entire life, he nods. “Ready.”
“Sweet or sour?”
“Sweet.”
“Cool, me too. Coffee or hot chocolate?”
“Coffee.”
I don’t bother hiding my disgust. “Ew. Maybe we’re not compatible, after all.”
Laughter bursts through Oliver’s lips. “Based on the fact that I like coffee and you don’t?”
Tapping my pointer finger to my lips, I pretend to consider the predicament. “Well, I am a hot cocoa connoisseur.”
Oliver raises a brow, sliding his gaze my way. “Is that so?”
“Yep. I’m basically world-renowned. My name is probably in an official book somewhere. So I’m sure I can convert you.”
He rolls amused eyes. “Next question. Favorite hobbies?”
“Hm. Taking care of my plants, trying new foods and hiking to find new plants. And watching movies snuggled up all cozy at home. You?”
Oliver bites his lower lip, his smile clear as day. “Movies,” he nods, “hiking with Nacho, though I can sometimes convince John to go with me. Baking. And, of course, helping women gaslight their judgemental families.”
His grin is infectious. “Of course. Okay, last one. Favorite color?”
“Brown.” The answer is quick, needing no consideration.
My nose scrunches in confusion just as fast. “Like … dirt?”
Glorious, howling laughter fills the car. Even Nacho joins in the chorus. “Sure,” he nods, “brown, like dirt.” Turning onto a residential street, it’s mere moments before he guides the car into the driveway of the cutest two-story, white Victorian home I’ve ever seen, where a familiar red sedan also waits in the driveway.
“Wow,” I breathe.
Candles sit lit in every front-facing window while garlands hang in bows along the outside of every windowbox. A large red bow adorns the featured wreath, with mini wreaths hanging along the white picket fenceline.
“Your turn, Callie.” Beside me, Oliver waits patiently. As if knowing my favorite color is the most important thing in the world.
“Green. My favorite color is green.”
“Like your plants?” Curious eyes roam my face, awaiting my next answer.
Doing my best to stifle the giggle trying to escape, I nod. “Yes, Oliver. Like my plant babies. Now, are you ready?”
He grins. “Let’s go.” Letting Nacho out, he rounds the car just as I’m stepping onto the fresh snow.
“Does she not need a leash?” I nod to the bounding girl headed up the front porch stairs.
