Tic-Tac-Mistletoe - N.R. Walker Page 0,52
all a bit crazy,” Hamish said, leaning back on the couch and smiling right at me. “It’s not too late. If you wanted to make a run for it, you’d be home before it gets too dark.”
I reached over and took his hand, threading our fingers and getting lost in those brown eyes. “Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
He leaned in close, a nervous smile pulled at his lips, and he closed his eyes, and—
“Haims, can you come here for a sec?” Liv called out from the kitchen.
Hamish’s eyes slowly opened, our faces were barely an inch apart, and he sighed. “The universe hates me,” he whispered.
“No it doesn’t,” I said, not wanting to miss another opportunity to kiss him, so I quickly pecked his lips.
Chapter Eleven
Hamish
I walked into the kitchen and whisper-hissed to Liv. “Worst timing ever. He was just about to kiss me. Again.”
Liv looked horrified. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she whispered back. Then she stopped and tilted her head, gripping my arm. “Are you telling me you haven’t even kissed yet?”
“We have. Once or twice,” I answered. “But we keep getting interrupted!”
She went back to her horrified face. “But I put you both in the same bedroom!”
“Shh,” I hushed her. “I know. Thank you for that, by the way. There better not be any interruptions tonight, that’s all I’m saying.”
She chuckled and handed me a table centrepiece of garland and pinecones and baubles. “Can you put this on the dining table, please? And these things have to go as well.”
I looked at the candles and napkins and bonbons and goblets she had on the counter. “Liv, this is all so beautiful.”
“Well, it’s a special Christmas,” she said, giving my arm a squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
Ren appeared with Chutney, who was back in her shoes and coat. “Just gonna take her outside,” he said. “Oh, do you need me to help with anything?”
“No, we’ve got this,” I said. I gave Chutney a quick little scratch behind the ear. “Don’t keep the lady waiting.”
Ren grinned and disappeared out the back, and when I turned back around, Liv was staring at me. “Can we just take a second to talk about how perfect he is?”
“Imma need more than a second.”
“You really like him,” she stated. It wasn’t a question.
There was no point in denying it; she could read me like a billboard sign, apparently. “I do. Is that crazy? I’ve known him for—” I checked my watch. “—oooh, three days.”
Liv’s face softened. “It’s not crazy. When you know, you know. It’s exactly that simple.”
“And exactly that complicated.”
“What’s complicated about it?”
“He lives an hour and a half away. I’ve been here for three days. I don’t know where I’ll end up living. And I’m only here for two years.”
She made a face. “I thought the same thing.”
I sighed. “I like him,” I whispered. “And he likes me. He’s pretty heartsore right now, with the death of his dad, so I don’t want things to get complicated and hurt him even more.”
Liv put her hands on my shoulders. “Hamish, just go with it. If it lasts a week or a year or if it’s forever, don’t waste happiness. Life’s too fucking short.”
She was teary again, and I got thinking that maybe she wasn’t talking about me. “Is everything okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah, of course,” she said. She looked away then, as if maybe she wasn’t being completely honest, but then she met my eyes once again. “But if you could set the table for me, that’d be great. Josh said he’d do it, but honestly—”
“And I would,” Josh said. He walked in holding some kind of packing tape.
Liv gave him a sympathetic smile. “Honey, I love you, but you’re very heterosexual, and I want pizzazz and perfection.”
Chuckling, I gave her a nudge with my elbow. “Homosexual pizzazz and perfection, coming right up.”
She laughed, and I was almost done setting everything up when Ren and Chutney came back inside. “How does it look?” I asked him.
He walked over and stood beside me, smiling. “Like something out of a magazine.”
“Liv, come out and have a look,” I called out. “Does it pass the gay test?”
She came out laughing, then looked at the table. “Oh, it’s perfect.”
“And properly pizzazzed?”
“Definitely. And I’m done in the kitchen . . . well, until the oven beeps at me.”
“What else needs doing?” I asked. “If you need anything else gay-pizzazzed, I’m your man.”
“Nothing,” she said. “Well, not until New Year’s.