Page 21 of Terms and Traditions

“Hold the elevator!” a familiar tenor voice called from behind me, muffled footsteps jogging my direction.

I stepped inside and held the door as Nash tumbled in after me.

He waited till the death trap rattled into motion before smirking down at me. “Trying to duck out on me, Steph?”

The shortened use of my name was a new thing for us, but I secretly loved hearing him say it, like the sap I was. I rolled my eyes. “You were on the phone, and I have… things to do tonight.”

A twinkle lit his molten eyes, and he leaned closer. “So mysterious. What kind of things?” He put the last word in air quotes. “You’re the kind of woman who had her bags packed the day after we made our arrangements.”

I bit my cheek to keep from smiling, even though my face heated a little. The seventy-eighth downfall to dating your boss—he knew how organized you were. “True,” I confessed, leaning against the metal bar that dug into my lower back.

“I heard you on the phone, and I believe the name Cal Satterfield was uttered more than once.” Nash’s eyes danced. “Should I be jealous?”

“Honorary little sis, remember?” Cal was objectively good looking but not my type.

Nash chuckled. “So it was Jackson calling to debrief after the game last night? It was a good one.”

I groaned, tipping my head back against the mirrorlike wall. “Don’t tell me you're a fan of the Chargers, too?”

“Guilty.”

“Figures,” I groused. “And yes, it was Jackson. He calls without fail because, apparently, being friends with a famous hockey player’s little sister makes me the cool aunt.”

“You hate hockey, don’t you?” Nash stepped closer to me in a dare.

“Hate is a strong word. But—” My phone vibrated loudly, and I froze, my heart skipping a beat.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Nash asked, eyebrows raised. The elevator jiggled, making my stomach swoop, before it halted and flung the doors open. He motioned for me to step out ahead of him.

“There’s plenty of things I haven’t told you,” I huffed, adding under my breath, “including whether or not you’ll have a roof over your head for the next week.”

We waved to the night security guard before the automatic doors blasted us with the frigid December air. I shuddered and flipped my woolen coat collar up against the chill, but I couldn’t do anything about my nylon-clad legs. I really needed to invest in those fleece tights Paisley swore by—a necessity for Idaho winters when you wanted to wear a skirt or dress, she said—or just not wear pantyhose during the five months of cold weather Spokane always got.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Nash asked as he walked me across the parking lot to my car—rather Liz’s car because she let me borrow it since she was on Christmas break.

Ben said I needed a new transmission, and that extra two grand wasn’t in the budget before Christmas, even if he was cutting me a deal. The Flea really might be resting in peace this time because it was almost cheaper to buy a new vehicle instead of doing the repairs.

Ready? Was I ready to sprinkle the metaphorical blood in the water and let the sharks circle around us? “Of course,” I chirped like the idiot I was for living under the delusion that this would go over well and that the persistent buzz of my phone wasn’t Nana losing her ever-loving mind.

After I unlocked the driver’s door, I faced him. “I think the real question is, are you ready?”

Nash smiled, that southwest dimple popping in the dim light of the streetlamps. It was just starting to snow and the small flakes landed mesmerizingly on his dark curls—freshly cut. He leaned forward and opened the door for me. “I’m nowhere near as organized as you are. That’s why I have you.”

“Not what I meant, but I’m glad for the job security.” I laughed and slid into the seat, dropping my purse onto the passenger seat and ignoring the persistent hum of my phone. No doubt Nana would be calling any minute.

Nash paused for a second, leaning down to peer at me. “You don’t need to worry about me, Steph. I can handle your family. I can handle you, too. Crazy doesn’t scare me.”

The sincerity of his words hit me in the chest, and pesky tears burned my eyes. I so desperately wanted to believe him, but I’d believed other guys who had promised to stick around only to ditch me when I didn’t fit in their plans anymore. Would Nash be different? He was the one who wanted things to be real between us. Well, I did, too. More than I was admitting out loud—especially since I’d told him I’d think about his offer. But would this be the Christmas my crush died because reality and my family’s insanity crashed down around us? Or the year I was finally brave enough to reach out for what I wanted?

Gently, Nash reached out and lightly tugged one of my curls, breaking the tension. “And I hope you’re bringing your A-game because I found an ugly sweater to top all ugly sweaters.”

I snorted. “If you can give Nana a run for her money, you’ll have half the family in love with you.”

His grin was hypnotic in the shadows. “Good thing I’m only concerned about one member of the Addams family being in love with me, then. That might be too much pressure otherwise.”

I stared at him, dumbstruck. But my mouth dried at his words, my tongue refusing to work. Was he… did he just… flirt? Were we at that stage? Man, I was rusty.

Nash winked. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at 6:30. Drive safe.” Then he closed the door and waved before strolling across the parking lot towards his Wrangler like he hadn’t just dropped the biggest bomb.