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“It’s okay, Damian.” Stella laughed as I jerked the car back and forth like an idiot. Who decided that driving a stick was the thing to do? “You can’t be gorgeous and a great driver. We have to keep things balanced in life.”
I smirked and jerked the car forward. “You think I’m hot?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Oh, it went to my head, but probably the one she wasn’t talking about.
I shifted around in the seat and readjusted my jeans so she wouldn’t notice the growing beast that seemed to lately want to wave her way whenever she came around me. “No, no. Go ahead. Tell me again how good-looking I am,” I joked.
She groaned. “I was just trying to be nice because I know most people think you’re ugly because of your big forehead. You’re gorgeous in an odd kind of way. Like yeah, your earlobes hang low, and your torso is too long for words. And sure, your lips are deflated pancakes, but hey, at least you got your nose.” She tilted her head and stared at me. “Oh, wait. That’s crooked, too.”
I laughed. “Are you sassing me, Mrs. Blackstone?”
“Maybe a little, Mr. Blackstone.”
I was falling for this side of her.
I was falling for the way she mocked me.
I was falling for the way she made goofy faces.
I was falling for… her.
The car jerked forward one more time, and Stella’s laughter filled the air.
Just like that, I was hers, and she didn’t even know it.
“Can we spend Christmas together?”Stella asked after yet another driving lesson. Christmas was two weeks around the corner, and nothing about California felt very Christmas-y. I was used to filthy snow by this time of year and strangers cussing you out as you walked down the streets of New York.
“Are you a Christmas girl?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Stella’s eyes lit up as she nodded aggressively. “I am a Christmas girl. Times a million. I hired people to come deck out the house tomorrow, but I was also thinking maybe we can do some fun Christmas activities together. Like go sledding up north. Or go see the Christmas lights or—”
“WatchThe Holiday,Love Actually, orFour Christmaseswhile drinking hot cocoa?” I asked.
Her jaw dropped open as she pointed a finger at me. “How do you know those movies?”
“I might have searched out Christmas rom-coms to watch with you, knowing that you already loved Christmas. I also got us tickets to seeThe Nutcracker.”
“How did you know I loved Christmas?”
“I just study you, that’s all. I see how you react to things in public and make mental notes of what I think you might enjoy.”
Her hands fell against her chest as she shook her head in disbelief. “My hard hummus.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I just…” She was crying, but it was okay. I’d learned early on that she shared her emotions through her tears. It felt like a privilege to make her cry happy tears. And a heartbreak to make her cry sad ones. I knew these were happy, though, which made me glad.
I’d also learned to carry tissues in my pockets for my gentle girl.
My gentle girl?
No. She wasn’t mine, but sometimes my scarred heart liked to pretend.
She sniffled and smiled at me. “You’re the kindest man I’ve ever met.”
“You’re the greatest woman on this planet,” I replied without thought.
