Page 91 of Halo

I nod, turning back to the photograph. Nick looks so much younger than everyone else that, at first glance, he could almost be mistaken for a nephew instead of a son. Matt and I are six years apart, and even that felt like a lifetime. I wonder if Nick ever felt like an outsider in his own family.

My phone buzzes against my back pocket, pulling me from the photo. I fish it out, my thumb already unlocking the screen.

COWBOY

A smile blooms across my face as I answer. “Is everything okay, Mr. Crawford?”

“Well, Ms. Harrison, not really.” His voice carries from somewhere in the house. “I was hoping you could help me.”

I smirk. “With what?”

“I need some advice. See, there’s this real pretty lady I can’t seem to stop thinking about. She was sweet enough to give me her phone number …” He sighs dramatically. “And then, wouldn’t you know it? My first text to her was about lice.”

I stifle a giggle.

“Did I blow it, or do you think she’ll give me a chance to take her out on a date?”

I tiptoe out of the kitchen and down the short hallway to find Nick peeking out from over the second floor banister. Shaking my head, I suck in my bottom lip. “Is she aware of your follicular accident? That could be a dealbreaker, but you could always ask.” I hang up the phone.

Nick saunters down the stairs, his crooked grin widening with each step, until he’s standing right in front of me. I tip my chin back, suddenly reminded of just how tall he is.

“Leah … will you have dinner with me?”

A smile tugs at my cheeks until they ache. Every clever response abandons me, leaving behind the only word I can possibly think of at this moment.

“Yes.”

Chapter 22

Nick

Ihaven't been on a date since high school, and even then, it was a school dance our parents practically orchestrated.

Dinner? Their idea.

Transportation? Their idea.

Music? Their idea.

The only decisions I remember making were what color tie to wear and which after-party to crash.

Leah and I have been ships passing in the night since Thanksgiving. Between Grady's kindergarten Christmas program, our work schedules, and Leah's obligations with her church, we've managed to postpone dinner twice. I was starting to think our first date would be Valentine's Day.

And that would be a first for me.

The air is brisk tonight, more so than what I'm used to in December. It doesn't help that I only have a half of an inch of hair sticking up everywhere on my head.

Leah's apartment complex is cozy. Christmas lights of every color, pattern, and blinking setting imaginable drape across porches and railings. Stockings and wreaths hang from balconies and awnings. A few people have their curtains open, proudly displaying their illuminated Christmas tree in the front window.

After circling the parking lot twice, I finally find her building, park my truck, and head up the walkway. A burlap wreath hangs from her door with sprigs of pine, gold and silver ribbon, and a little wooden sign in the middle that reads JOY.

I shift the bouquet of pink peonies from one hand to the other, the butcher paper crinkling with the movement. I don’t know if flowers are too much for a first date, but they seem like something Leah would enjoy. That's the only motivation I need. I'd buy her an entire garden of flowers if there was even a possibility of it bringing her a smile—even if just for a minute.

Blowing out a heavy breath, I smooth the front of my jacket and knock on her door. The evening silence stretches as hurried footsteps draw close.

The door swings open.

Christ.