Kissing him would be a teenage Liesel’s dream come true.
It would also complicateeverything. Right now, we’re friends. Friends who covertly flirt at work and who spend all night and weekend texting each other.
But if we kiss, what next? Are we going to date, in spite of my family’s objections or Doug’s? If I knew he was serious about me, if I knew this was a long term commitment, that would be one thing. But I don’t know that, not for himorfor me. The risk is too great. I’m not looking for a fling, and I’m not looking to rock the boat. Or the Christmas tree.
“I don’t kiss on the first date,” I say.
“You did, though.”
“That was for the escape room,” I say with a mock glower.
“As long as we’re clear that that was a date and so was this.” His eyes dance, and he takes my hand and rubs my knuckles with his thumb.
“Fine. I don’t kiss on the second date, either,” I say.
“If you want more dates with me, just ask, Sugar Plum. I’ll add the third and fourth to my calendar right now.”
I spin my earring and look at Coop’s full lips, wanting so badly to throw caution to the wind. No one’s here to see us—no one who wants to keep us apart, at any rate. But my dad and brothers and Doug are all lurking like shadows in my mind.
I haven’t quite decided how much I care …
“How about we see each other at the charity event tomorrow before you get on the plane?” I ask.
“It’s a date.”
“Good night, Coop.”
“Sweet dreams, Sugar Plum.”
I close the door behind him and then walk into the family room. I throw myself onto the couch, my head dangling upside down.
“Well, roast my chestnuts on an open fire,” Juliet says. “Lee has it bad for Mrs. Claus.” I look up to my friend cuddling with her fiancé.
“What?” I laugh. “Mrs. Claus?”
Juliet gives me a knowing look. “He’s still wearing my apron.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
COOPER
The second Liesel walks into the Feeding Futures warehouse, I can sense it.
And by sense, I mean I use one of my senses—sight—to spot her. Because I’ve been staring at the door for the last twelve minutes to make sure I can’t possibly miss her.
“Hello, Ms. Fischer,” I say, holding up a small, clear zipper bag. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“Yeah, the snow’s starting to come down, but it was still fine to drive in,” she says. “What’s the bag for?”
“You’re not allowed to wear jewelry in the warehouse, so you can store your mom’s earrings in here.” She’s never said they were her mom’s, but her mom was wearing them in each of the social media pictures I’ve looked at. Even without seeing those, though, I had a hunch, considering I’ve yet to see her wear anything else.
She gives me a suspicious half smile. “You don’t need to be quite so observant.”
“I promise you I’m not with anyone else.”
“Should I be flattered or scared?”
“Ask Jenna,” I say as Liesel removes her earrings. “I didn’t notice she cut her hair into a pixie cut between our first and second dates.”
