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He nods. “Marry me.”
“Wow, not too choosy, are you?” I laugh, feeling the tension of the last few weeks ease the littlest bit. And sort of wishing this guy wasn’t heading off to Vegas quite so fast. Because it’s nice to laugh, and with all the weighty decisions about whether I should move too, it’s been a while.
Suddenly, Stormy and Diesel are in the doorway, both still wearing their jackets and looking as shocked to see us as I am to realize I’d completely forgotten about listening to them.
I straighten and force a wide, hopefully innocent smile. “Hey, guys, we were just—”
“Trying to listen in,” Noel says unapologetically. “We didn’t hear anything good, though. Too busy falling in love ourselves.” He steps up to my side and slings an arm around me with a wink. “Dude, I’m taking Stormy’s sister here—”
“Misty,” I offer, half bracing for the usual crack about my parents watching the weather channel too much, but it doesn’t come.
“—Misty, to Vegas with me. We’re getting married, celebrating with a hot chocolate-mini marshmallow fountain, and doing all the shit you said no to. You’re off the island.”
The silence holds for a beat, and then, without responding, Diesel turns to Stormy. “All I’m asking for is an hour.”
Blowing out a tight breath, she nods. “Fine. But not here.”
I did not hear that right. “You’re leaving?”
Giving my hand a squeeze, she meets my eyes. “I’ll explain when we go over to Mom and Dad’s this afternoon.”
Diesel looks at Noel. “Can you push the flight?”
“Yeah, man. Whatever you need.”
We watch them leave in awkward silence. And then Noel turns to me.
“Sure you don’t want to take me up on the Vegas wedding? You’ll have to drive to the airport. Pretty sure Diesel just stole my car again.”
2
Noel
Nailing the perfect fold, Misty takes the inch tab of tape stuck to the tip of my finger and shakes her pretty head. “No. I’m still not marrying you.”
She secures the wrapping paper and then starts in on the bow. I press on the half-tied knot, and she finishes. Nearly an hour in and we’ve got a system.
“But if you don’t have a good reason to eliminate me as a contender— like you aren’t into NHL players, or you have some hard-and-fast rule against charming, confident guys who make you smile—”
Elbows resting on the small round table in the corner of her kitchen, she laughs. “Listento you.”
Damn, I dig that sound. I dig this girl with her funky mugs— she gave me her favorite. A picture of Bob Ross with a black background that turned into a landscape when she poured the hot chocolate in— and generous, welcoming personality.
She could have left me on the couch or out in the hall, but instead, she sat me down and started to chat while we wrapped her presents. She works in billing for a dentist down the street but wants to find a new job because she hates the sound of the drill. I told her I play hockey for the Slayers, and she thought it was cool but doesn’t know much about sports. I said I’d marry her anyway, but she’s still not sold.
“Then why say no? Sure, if you’ve found a deal-breaker, share it with the class.” I wait, watching her for tells, like the slight blush pushing into her cheeks and the way she slides that mostly empty mug of cocoa around, this way and that. “Have you?”
Those striking green eyes meet mine from beneath the fringe of her thick lashes. “No.”
It’s low-key flirty, and I give myself a mental high-five.
“See, we’re practically engaged,” I tease, pulling my phone out to check my messages. Because as much as I’m digging this girl, eventually she’s going to take off for the family holiday, and I’d really like to be taking off for Vegas before then.
“Still nothing?” she asks.
“Nope. Probably on his way.” He better be. Our flight’s at two. “And if we don’t catch this one, there’ll be a few flights out later tonight.”
She takes a big breath. “Yeah, but it’s Christmas Eve. You don’t want to spend it on a plane.”
