Definitely then.
“That wasn’t all I wanted to talk about though.” Oh boy. No turning back now. He opened his mouth.
The unmistakable sound of a trombone split the air.
Holly blinked at him. “What?”
He shook his head. “I was trying to say—”
And there were the drums. “What in the world?” He spun. Behind them, across the parking lot, strode a full marching band, complete with red jackets and gold tassels and shiny instruments.
“Oh, right. There’s a parade here later today.” Holly raised her voice over the snare. “They must be practicing!”
“No kidding.” The exuberant march continued, the bass pulsating inside Nick’s chest.
“What were you going to say?” Holly shouted a foot away, hands cupping her ears.
He glanced toward the rows of synchronized high school students, and he hesitated. Was that a sign that he shouldn’t tell her how he felt?
Then he looked back at her wide eyes, her gaze half expectant, half guarded. No. She deserved to know. The truth had to come out.
Even if that meant it came out accompanied by a tuba.
He took another breath as the band continued filing past the arch. “I like you.”
“What?” She tilted one ear toward him as the song switched to a drum-heavy version of “Jingle Bells.”
That was hard enough to say the first time. Nick shuffled his feet, stepped closer. “I like you!”
She blinked at him again.
Oh, for crying out loud. “I LIKE—”
“No, I heard you that time. I was just…processing.” Holly’s crossed arms slipped to her sides, Nick’s jacket nearly tumbling off her shoulders. She caught it, her expression glazed. “You do?”
“Yeah.” Nick wanted to take her hands, but he still couldn’t tell how she was interpreting the news. “I mean…of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Because I’ve been kind of awful.”
“You’ve been adorable.”
“I’ve been annoying.”
“You’ve been creative.”
“I’ve thrown Christmas in your face over and over—including PTSD from your childhood.” She shook her head, brow furrowed. “I forced you into tricking your best friend, who punched you in the face.”
“Coerced, maybe.” He took a step closer to her, dared to brush a windswept curl from her cheek. “Not forced.”
Thethump-thumpof “Jingle Bells” blessedly grew quieter as the band marched to the far end of the mall. “Not to mention I’ve made a complete fool of myself multiple times. The ugly sweaters! Oh my gosh.” She buried her face in her hands again. His jacket slipped from her grip and landed on the pavement.
Nick stepped over it, closing the distance between them. “Holly?”
“Yeah?” Her voice was muffled beneath her hands.
He fought back a smile. “Can I be the one to decide how I feel about you?”
She peered between her fingers. “Seems fair.”
