Nick dragged both hands down his cheeks, feeling his five o’clock stubble emerging several hours early. Did hair grow faster under duress?
“Nobody wants to be alone on Christmas. Not even you.” Ryan spun Nick’s chair back to face him. “Admit it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Nick wanted to pretend Christmas didn’t exist—not spend it on the picturesque Sinclair family farm. Besides, being alone in his Cleveland apartmentwould give him the opportunity to spend his days off tweaking his nonprofit proposal. There were so many stages to incorporate, the biggest being acquiring the actual property and getting it bunk-ready for multiple teens. There were also other things he wanted to eventually include on the property, such as therapy dogs and horses, and a basketball court to properly channel aggression.
Once he got all the details typed out,thenhe’d be ready for the Sinclairs—or anyone else who might want to contribute toward helping troubled youth find their way.
Ryan pressed harder. “It’ll be low-key, I promise. None of my siblings can make it, except my sister Holly. You met her once, last year.”
Red hair and beautiful green eyes flickered in Nick’s mind.
“Remember, when she surprised me for lunch that day she came through town?”
He remembered.
“Look, I’ll be honest. Holly’s bummed out. She just got laid off, and she’s single. She pretends like she’s not lonely, but I know she’s got to be, in Detroit by herself.” Ryan stopped his rambling long enough to draw a breath. “If you come home with me, it’ll solve two problems.”
Nick sighed. “Which are?”
“Giving you somewhere to go for Christmas…and cheering up my sister.”
Nick frowned. “How will the presence of a near stranger cheer up Holly?”
“Because if you come it could be…” Ryan coughed into his elbow, the rest of his sentence morphing into the garbled sound.
Nick tilted his head. “One more time? Without the loogie?”
Ryan released a resigned breath. “If you come, you could be a date for Holly.”
Nick blinked up at him. Once, twice. But neither the speakers blaringFeliz Navidadnor Ryan’s sheepish, pleading expression changed.
Then Ryan’s face brightened. “She hates Christmas too, man. It’s perfect!”
“Sure. Two people with holiday trauma. Talk about a match made in heaven.” Nick rolled his eyes. “Hard pass.” He hadn’t dated in a while, and honestly, until he got his nonprofit off the ground, he didn’t have any business distracting himself. First things first.
“Look, my mom throws this big holiday block party. Holly always gets picked on at these things, and this year will be the worst for her.”
A twinge of compassion flicked his heart like a guitar string. But…no. Holly seemed nice, but this wasn’t his problem to solve. He had too many others as it was.
Ryan squinted. “Promise to at least think about it?”
“I promise to think about varying creative ways to keeping saying no.” Nick’s cell buzzed in his pocket as he turned back to his monitor. “No.Non.Nein.Nee.” He pulled the phone free and checked the display.
Grace Sinclair.
He kept the screen shielded from his friend. “Sorry, bro, I’ve got to take this.”
“Fine, fine.” Ryan backed out of his workstation. “But until I hear a no in Klingon, I’m going to assume you’re still thinking about it.”
Nick waited until Ryan was several desks away, then accepted the call. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“Hello, Nick.” The woman’s warm, motherly tone startled him as much as it had the other two times they’d spoken. Definitely opposite from what he’d known growing up. No wonder Ryan was so well-adjusted. “I just wanted to check back in and see if you were following request number one.”
“Praying? Yes, ma’am.” Nick probably prayed more about starting his nonprofit than he did anything else—mostly because he figured the Lord wouldn’t mind hearing about something unselfish.
“That’s great to hear.” She cleared her throat. “And I trust you’re keeping this conversation confidential?”
He dipped his head. “Of course.”
