Page 46 of No Room in the Inn
“As it should,” Sarah chimes in, ever the picture of loyalty. “You look like a Christmas goddess.”
“Thank you,” I say, exasperated. “Plus,” I hiss to Nixon, and he leans closer to hear me. “You said people love when you wear your Santa suit. I thought it would help cheer them up.”
“It does, sugar,” Gerty says, speaking to me as though I’m a child she’s humoring. “It does cheer me up. Mr. and Mrs. Claus—and of course the two of you,” she says, nodding at Sarah and Flora. “What more could I ask? Oh!” She claps her hands suddenly, and I jump a little. “That reminds me. You all reallymustcome to the holiday party I’m having in a couple weeks.”
Sarah nods. “I got the invitation last week. Of course I’ll be there.”
When Nixon and I just stare at Sarah with what I suspect are matching looks of wariness, she says,
“Gerty holds a Christmas party nearly every year. A party for people our age.”
“I love hosting,” Gerty explains. “And I love bringing people together. Everyone invited is young and single. You can have fun, get to know some new people…” She wiggles her eyebrows at Nixon. “Maybe meet a nice girl?”
Nixon grins. “I’ll be there.”
Huh. That just figures. He’s the first in line to flirt with me but also the first in line to “meet a nice girl” too. What gives?
Not that I’m jealous, because I’m not. But some consistency would be nice. And hey—maybe I’ll meet a nice young man. I don’t need Nixon to flirt with me anyway.
“We’ll be there,” I hear myself say.
Chapter 21
Willow
“Well,” Nixon says, looking over at me. We’ve just dropped Sarah and Flora off at home, and now we’re headed back to the inn. “I hate to break it to you, but Hallmark activities might just not be your thing.”
“Yeah,” I muse, nodding as I tick activities off on my fingers. “Burned the cookies, killed the Christmas caroling because I’m tone deaf…I see what you mean.”
There’s silence in the car for a second, and then, suddenly, we’re laughing. Doubled-over-in-my-seat, tears-in-my-eyes laughter that seemingly came out of nowhere, but I can’t stop, and it doesn’t seem like Nixon can, either.
“‘Everyone sing but Willow’” he says in a mock-stern voice, and I laugh harder still.
“She looked—” I break off, gasping for air as I laugh. “She looked so offended by my singing voice!”
“Iwas offended by your singing voice,” Nixon gets out through his laughter.
“Hey,” I say, swatting him on the shoulder, my laughs finally fading, leaving behind a huge smile. “Be nice.”
“I’m nice,” he says quickly. He looks over at me, his smile softening. “I’m nice.”
And the air between us seems to thicken suddenly, not because he’s touching me or close to me but because of the way he’s looking at me.
It’s intimate, the look in his eyes. He has no business looking at me that way.
So why do I find my heart stuttering?
You just got out of a relationship, I remind myself.You don’t have feelings for him, but if you did, it would be a rebound crush. A tiny little rebound crush, and it would just be physical. You would only like him because he’s handsome.
I tell my heart toget a grip, then proceed to change the subject. I sigh theatrically, patting Nixon on the shoulder. “I really am bad at this stuff. I’m officially giving it up. Don’t worry, though. I’ll still teach you the true meaning of Christmas, even if you’re not the Hallmark-standard grumpy town loner.”
Nixon shakes his head, shooting me a grin, and just like that, the look in his eyes is gone. “You talk about teaching me the true meaning of Christmas, but you really don’t need to.”
My insides squirm uncomfortably, because this has been on my mind, too, and I don’t like it. Because Christmas is about family and love and all that, and Nixon doesn’t seem to struggle with that nearly as much as I do.
Sort of rude of him to point it out, though.
“You don’t have to rub it in,” I say, narrowing my eyes slightly at him. “I know what you’re thinking. But it’s not like I need to be taught the true meaning—”
