The Broody Brit for Christmas (Holiday Springs #1) - M.J. Fields Page 0,32

wool blanket draped over his arm. “Let’s enjoy our evening.”

A man dressed in black calls out, “Raff, that you?”

Loudly, he replies, “We’re here!”

“Come on over, then. Your evening awaits.”

We walk toward the lifts, and I finally get a good look. He’s tall, built, and, if I’m being frank, scary looking. I turn to Raff, wanting to make sure this is the guy we are walking toward and not some hitman who escaped from prison, killed Raff’s friend who was supposed to help us, took his identity and clothes, and is now standing here. Okay, fine, I guess I can be dramatic sometimes. I’m about to open my mouth when Raff and the scary guy do one of those handshake/grab hugs. “How are you, man?”

They do a little small talk, but it seems they have known each other for a while.

“Nikki, this is Jared. He works as a bouncer at one of my restaurants. A few nights a week, he works security here.”

“Oh.” I smile, looking up, still shocked at how big this guy is. “Hi.”

“Hello. Tonight is going to be beautiful. Not as beautiful as you, but still pretty fine.” He smiles, and I try not to shudder.

Is it just me, or does he have pointy teeth?

“Let’s get on then.” Raff and I hop onto the lift, his free hand in mine, laughing as it takes off.

“For a fake date, you’re definitely pulling out all the stops.”

“Maybe now that there is literally nowhere to run is a good time to tell you there is nothing fake about this date.”

“But—”

He presses a finger to my lips. “From the moment I saw you shutting that door at the shop, your flush when I spoke to you about Nathaniel, your smile at the bar. Each one of those moments had me wanting to ask you out. Talk to you. Alone. Now that I have you, don’t tell me it’s fake.”

I look out, the cool night air surrounding me, and realize who knows where my life will take me from here. Sure, I plan on finding a real job and going back to New York City. But right now, I’m here. Maybe I should go with the flow and stop trying to control every single detail of my life. He seems like a decent man. And Lord knows, he is handsome as hell. So why not let myself enjoy it? Finally, I turn back to him. “Okay. A real date.”

He lifts a victorious fist and lets out a loud, “Yes!”

I sink back against the seat, giggling. “Do you think the entire city heard you?”

He squeezes my hand. “I hope the whole world did.”

The rest of our real date goes off perfectly. We sit at a beautiful picnic table covered in white linen. Perched on the top of the mountain and surrounded by heat lamps, we are able to see the view of Holiday Springs without the cold hampering our enjoyment. The view is magnificent. Breathtaking, really.

Despite the distance, I can spot the twenty-foot pumpkin all lit up in orange lights that sits just on the outskirts of town on old man Smith’s farm. I remember as a kid getting excited to see our very own ‘Great Pumpkin’ and as a teen being slightly disappointed when Jenny, Shep, and I snuck onto the property to see it was made of nothing more than a thin almost papier mâché material, coated with something like shellac.

“You still with me?” Raff asks softly, nudging my knee with his own.

I nod and look over to see he’s already set our picnic out before me.

Raff packed delicious prosciutto sandwiches on crispy ciabatta bread with mozzarella, pesto, arugula, and tomato.

“Perks of having some of the best restaurants as tenants.”

We eat and talk a bit about his businesses where he prefers to remain a silent owner, and those with the talent, the chefs to run the show. He wants things simple for Nathaniel, and I admittedly admire that.

We wash the delicious meal down with crisp white wine and San Pellegrino. For dessert, he packed long-stem strawberries. We laugh so much. Tell each other so many stories about how we grew up, the friends we made. His friend Beckett seems like a real riot. I explain to him how Nellie is actually my cousin, and he is silent with shock before laughing out loud. Of course, we discuss New York City. He tells me he loves it, but the pace makes life harder than it has to be. Plus, it’s not the right