Tic-Tac-Mistletoe - N.R. Walker Page 0,61
for, to be honest.”
Hamish gasped. “Is she cold? Even with her coat and shoes on? Ren!”
“She’s fine. It won’t hurt her to walk for a bit.”
“She was running around like crazy through the house all morning!” He looked genuinely horrified and quickly picked her up. “No, pretty baby, come here.” He unzipped his coat and stuffed her inside, zipping it back up so her little face peeked out the top. She grinned, Hamish grinned, and all I could do was smile.
“Come on then,” I said, walking down the steps and along the driveway. Hamish walked like he was on the moon, which made me laugh, so I took his hand, and by the time we got to the sidewalk, he found his stride. Kind of.
“It really is beautiful,” he said.
“The snow?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s frighteningly cold, and how people live in this by choice is baffling. But it’s pretty, and peaceful. I guess it’s still new to me.”
“Well, it is pretty,” I replied. “But after you have to shovel it for hours and you can’t just duck into the store or you’re stuck at home for days and you have to worry about water pipes freezing, then it’s not so beautiful.”
“You’re not doing a very good job of selling it to me. You’re supposed to be upselling it and telling me it’s the best place to live.”
I chuckled. “Right. I forgot, sorry. Yes, shovelling six feet of snow is so much fun!”
“Six feet of it?” He looked stricken.
That made me laugh. “But the ice skating is romantic, and the wood fires and hot chocolate are amazing, and there is nothing in the world better than being in bed on a lazy Sunday while snow falls outside. Making love for hours . . .”
Hamish stopped walking. “Okay, sold.”
“That was fast.”
“You’re a good salesman. You know your target market, and this audience of one is intrigued.”
I chuckled again. “Honestly, I’m not selling anything. Shovelling snow sucks, but truly, it’s worth it. Come spring and summer, there’s no place prettier in all of the world.”
Just then, two small kids came out of the house we’d stopped in front of. “Merry Christmas,” they yelled and waved.
“Merry Christmas,” I called back, and Hamish gave them a friendly wave.
“Did Santa visit you?” the little girl asked.
“He sure did,” Hamish replied, glancing at me.
The mom came out then and ushered her kids back inside, waving to us and wishing us a Merry Christmas before she closed the door.
Hamish sighed. “This all still feels like a Hallmark Christmas movie.”
“Is that so bad?” I asked.
He squeezed my hand. “Not at all. It’s perfect, actually. I don’t want it to end.”
“It doesn’t have to end, does it?” I asked, ignoring my hammering heart. “When I go back to Hartbridge, we’ll see each other again, right? On weekends?”
“Yes, please. On weekends, or if I can bring my work laptop, I could come up during the week. If you want. I don’t have to stay with you,” he said quickly. “If that’s too much. I can stay at the motel in town if they’re not busy with the holiday rush, and I didn’t mean to just invite myself to stay with you—”
Chutney licked his face and it made me laugh. “I think she’s trying to tell you something.”
He shuffled her inside his coat so she couldn’t lick his face anymore. “What’s she telling me? That I talk too much or that I need a face-licking?”
I took his hand. “That you can stay with us. That she’d be disappointed if you didn’t . . . that I’d be disappointed if you didn’t stay with us.”
He grinned, but then he made a face and looked down the street. He was quiet a moment and I gave him the time he needed to get his thoughts in order. “I don’t want to sound like some crazy person or some psycho-weirdo, so please don’t think that, but I just need to say this or I’ll drive myself insane wondering if I should have.”
“What’s that?”
He swallowed hard and met my eyes. “I like you. Like, I really like you. And I’ve known you for all of three and a half days, which is where the psycho-weirdo thing comes in because you know when you see those shows where some person says, ‘yeah, they ran away to meet some person they met three days ago and that’s why we’re on an episode of Australia’s Most Wanted’ because who the hell thinks they even know someone after just three