Owen suddenly sits up straight, pointing at the TV. “Hey, doesn’t that look just Hendrix’s hometown?”
Maggie nods, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Good eye, Owen. We actually filmed there.”
“No way!” Emily exclaims. “Did Hendrix know?”
“Oh, he knew,” I chuckle, remembering our teammate’s reaction. “Let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled about his ‘quaint little hometown’ being invaded by film crews.”
“I still can’t believe they turned Hendrix’s favorite bar into a gingerbread bakery for the shoot.” Maggie giggles. “He nearly had an aneurysm when he saw it.”
“Well, I think it’s just lovely,” Patricia says, clapping her hands together. “We simply must go there.”
Robert just grunts.
“Best to visit in the summer,” Jessica suggests. “The boat ride through the little islands is so peaceful. You can get the best ice cream on the docks. And there’s golf.”
The word ‘golf’ piques Robert’s interest. “Well, then. We’ll make a weekend of it.”
Patricia seems pleased with the prospect.
The movie is exactly what you’d expect from a made-for-TV Christmas flick—there’s a gazebo, fake snow dusting the streets, and impossibly attractive people bundled up in cozy sweaters.
“Ten bucks says there's a misunderstanding that could be cleared up with one conversation,” Owen whispers to Robert.
Robert takes out a wad of cash. “Make it fifty.”
Emily shushes them both playfully. “Shh, you. No spoilers.”
“Seventy-five,” I add, just as a perky blonde lead in a red scarf is about to bump into the ruggedly handsome stranger in a green scarf, who’s undoubtedly her soulmate.
Maggie gives me the side-eye. “You read the book. Not fair. Plus, you’re all wrong.”
“I can’t believe they cast Brad Michael Michaels as the love interest,” Emily chirps to Maggie. “He’s like in every Yuletide Channel movie.”
Maggie sighs. “He’s so dreamy.”
I huff. “Dreamy? Please. The guy’s got all the charisma of a hockey puck.”
Maggie elbows me playfully. “Jealous much?”
“Of that cardboard cutout? Never.” I pull her closer, nuzzling her neck.
My lips brush her ear as I whisper, “Your body is my ice rink, and I’m about to score a hat trick.”
Maggie snorts so hard she nearly chokes on her hot chocolate. “Sawyer O’Malley, did you just quoteSlapshot Boyfriendat me?”
“Maybe.” I grin, waggling my eyebrows. “Is it working?”
“Oh my gaawwd,” she groans. “You are officially banned from reading my works in progress.”
"What can I say? Your words inspire me,” I tease, pulling her so close, she’s practically on my lap. “Though I still thinkPucked in the Penalty Boxhad better one-liners.”
Maggie swats at me but I catch the flush creeping up her neck. “Shhh. Quiet.”
“Only if you promise to show me some of those…penalty box moves later,” I whisper huskily.
Maggie blushes furiously. “Sawyer!”
“I’m just trying to get into the holiday spirit,” I say. “After all, isn’t that what your books are all about? Spreading joy and…other things?”
She grins, despite the elbow jabs she’s inflicting on me. “Something like that. Now unless you’re a prince who is actually Santa Claus, will you please shut up and watch the movie?”
“Whatever you wish, Mrs. O’Malley,” I say, admiring how the Christmas lights cast a soft halo on her hair. “I’ll do anything…anything you desire until I breathe my very last breath.
