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“Liza. That’s her,” he nodded with his head. “Two o’clock, in the tight red sweater and curly white hair.”
“Oh,” Pawpaw said with a twinkle in his eye. “You didn’t tell me she was so attractive.”
Brock chuckled. “That’s because I don’t look at women your age and see them as anything other than old. That would be creepy.”
“Well, that’s odd. I can look at girls like sweet Erin here and think she’s a beautiful woman who’d make someone a very good wife, and it doesn’t make me sound creepy.”
Brock glared at Pawpaw. “Actually, it kinda does.”
Ever the peacekeeper, Erin graced Ben with a grateful smile. “I think it’s sweet.”
“So,” Brock redirected Erin’s attention to safer ground. “Where’s the famous Gram I keep hearing about? Pawpaw wants to meet her, see if they know any of the same people.”
Erin cocked her head and gave him a quizzical grin. “She’s not here.”
“Oh, is she sick?” He imagined an older, weaker, gray-headed version of Erin propped up in bed. “Is she homebound? The way you talk about her, I thought she was up and about.”
Erin snorted and then chuckled out a laugh. “Gram is as far from homebound as you can get. She’s on vacation in Costa Rica with her internet friend.”
“Vacation? I thought you lived here so you could take care of her.”
“I moved in to take care of her after she broke her ankle. She’s all healed and on another one of her fabulous adventures. She’s been gone since October.”
“Wait a minute.” Brock shook his head, his impression of her feeble grandmother and Erin’s role in her life amending in his head. “Youchooseto live here?”
His tone got her hackles up by the way she popped her hands onto her hips. “Yes, I choose to live here. I like it here.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Liza approached the threesome. Brock’s heartburn flared at the mischievous look on her face. “Well, if you’re going to stand under the mistletoe, you’d better start kissing.”
Brock glanced above his head at the bushy sprig of mistletoe he’d attached to the ceiling himself. He dropped his gaze and met Erin’s wild-eyed stare.
“We don’t have to,” she said, her voice brimming with panic.
The more she fought it, the more he wanted to kiss her—the more he needed to kiss her, if only to prove a point. “Are you scared if you kiss me, you might actually enjoy it?”
Her lips twitched. “You mean the way one enjoys a root canal?”
Man, he liked her like this—sweet little Erin giving as good as she got.Challenge accepted.With his eyes locked on hers, Brock lifted his hands and placed them on either side of her neck. He took his time leaning down and loitered near her lips like a man with nothing better to do than to tease and to torture. When he couldn’t wait another moment, he sealed his lips to hers.
The softness of her mouth, the way her body stiffened and then yielded against his, shut his mind down and sent his senses on high alert. The smell of her skin, like sin and sunshine. The taste of her mouth, like a fiery cinnamon candy. The feel of her satin soft flesh in his hands as his palms cradled her head.
The noise of the crowd cheering brought him back to himself and back to earth. Erin clung to his sweater, her eyes closed, her lips swollen and pink. It took every ounce of self-control not to go back for more. When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, her pupils huge, he pressed his luck and said what was on his heart. “Go out with me, Erin, before your hoard of pseudo-grandparents chase me out of town with a stick.”
“I thought you were leaving tomorrow.”
“I am. I have a meeting on Monday morning. But I’ll be back before Christmas, and I’ll stay through the new year.” He hadn’t planned to stay that long, but for her, he’d change his plans. “What do you say?”
She blinked up at him, her lips teasing upward. “I say yes.”
ChapterEleven
Erin floated to the mailbox,waving at Mr. Johnson and his faithful dog Rudy as they walked by her driveway and went on their merry way. Three days had passed since the CCR Christmas party and Brock’s fly-me-to-the-moon kiss. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. She paused before opening the box, closed her eyes, and relived the fateful moment for the millionth time since it happened.
She still couldn’t believe they were dating.I want to date you, Erin. I know I live in Nashville, and you live here, but I want to give it a shot.He’d said it fast without taking a breath, as if he couldn’t hold it inside any longer. And after that kiss and the applause from the onlookers, relief and happiness had her soaring off her feet. She’d yet to fully find the ground ever since.
She was dating Brock Bartlett. “I’m dating Brock Bartlett,” she said aloud, and then looked around to make sure no one heard her babbling like a lovesick fool. They’d talked and texted every day, multiple times a day. Flirty, intimate, relationshippy conversations and texts.
