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“Pawpaw …”
“Women like Erin don’t come along every day. If you don’t snatch her up while you’ve got the chance, someone else will. Ask me what it’s like to live with regret.”
Brock stared into Pawpaw’s eyes and knew bluffing was out of the question. “We live in different cities.” He’d calculated the two hundred and two miles and one time zone separating him from Erin almost as often as he’d envisioned kissing her.
“That’s logistics—an area in which you excel.”
“What are you suggesting? A long-distance relationship? Can you see her living in Nashville or me in Cherry Creek?”
“Maybe. You never know what people will do for love.”
“You’re jumping the gun, Pawpaw. We’re not even dating.”
“Do you really think either one of us would wear these stupid sweaters if it wasn’t for Erin? You’ve been courting her all week, son. If you haven’t asked her out yet, that’s on you.”
Brock inhaled a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I don’t want to make things weird for you if she turns me down.”
Pawpaw pointed at Brock’s face. “I think you’re afraid she won’t turn you down and you’ll have to give this a shot.”
Busted.“What if I blow it? I’m not good at relationships. I never have been.”
“When was the last time you tried?”
“Really tried?” Brock thought back over the women who’d come and gone from his life, never making a dent—never even making a mark. “Never.”
“So don’t blow it, okay? Just … don’t.”
“That’s your best advice? Don’t blow it?”
“What do you want me to say? I’m a grown man wearing a jingle bell sweater. That’s the best I’ve got.” Pawpaw continued walking and left Brock stewing in his wake.
He could see Erin inside the clubhouse greeting guests and fluttering from one corner of the room to the other, her face lit up like the Christmas tree he’d helped her decorate. He rubbed the ache in his chest he got whenever he thought about leaving her behind. But could he ask her on a date and follow through, trusting her with his heart the way he was trusting her with his pawpaw? Would she even consider a long-distance relationship?
His pawpaw knew by calling Brock out, he’d force him to act on his feelings. His sneaky pawpaw knew him too well. Brock took a deep breath and headed for the party.
Erin came up behind him as he was hanging his coat on the rack. “I can’t believe you bought the elf sweater,” she said, holding her hand over her mouth to hide her laughter.
“You didn’t think I’d do it?”
“Honestly, no. But I’m so glad you did.”
The smile on her face made everything inside of him settle. If there was ever a woman who made him want to try, Erin was it. “Merry Christmas, Erin. You look beautiful in your ugly sweater.”
Her cheeks colored prettily as she tugged at the hem of her sweater featuring candy cane arms and Mrs. Santa’s body. “I wasn’t really going for ugly since Mr. Granger wins every year.”
“You mean I’m wearing this for nothing?”
She rewarded him by running her fingers over his chest, setting his heart to pounding. “You’re wearing it to fit in and make the rest of us feel less ridiculous.”
He’d wear whatever she asked if it meant she’d touch him like that again. Pawpaw approached and gave Erin a hug. “Merry Christmas, Erin. Heck of a party.”
“Thanks, Ben. We couldn’t have done it without Brock’s help.”
“My grandson is very handy to have around.”
Brock needed to change the subject before Pawpaw asked Erin out on his behalf. He spotted Liza prowling around the room, wearing a tight red sweater and matching lipstick. “Hey, Pawpaw. Do you remember the lady I was telling you about—the one who helped Erin plan the party?”
“Yes. Lisa? Lita?”
