Holidate

by Monica Murphy

  I’m starting to think that I need to put up even more boundaries with my mother. Not that our relationship is ruined over this, but I can’t have her nosing in my business and essentially trying to destroy whatever relationships I might have.

  For all I know, she might’ve already destroyed it.

  “You should go to her,” Stella says quietly. “Explain what happened. She’ll listen to you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” She walks right up to me and sticks her index finger in my face. “Don’t screw this up, Charles.”

  Twenty-Six

  Candice

  I don’t know if I can watch another sweet Christmas movie.

  They’re all wonderful, and they all end the same—declarations of true love and that one sweet kiss, as Stella referred to it that time when I claimed my life had turned into a Hallmark movie.

  For a while there, it felt like one. It helped that Charlie’s family owns a Christmas tree farm and we kept spending time there. I mean, how great was that?

  But now he won’t talk to me and I’m afraid he might’ve been dishonest and our relationship is over. My life has now turned into a disastrous Lifetime movie.

  Well, maybe not. I think we’d need some angry ex-girlfriend to pop into the picture and stalk me. Want me dead.

  No thanks.

  Sighing, I grab my favorite throw blanket and tuck it around my feet. I’m sitting in the living room all alone, and the sun is almost down, its last rays casting beams of golden light through the giant window that faces the ocean and obscuring the TV screen. I put the movie on pause and wait it out.

  My parents went out of town for the weekend to Tahoe to spend time with friends. All of my friends are pretty much working, since they’re in retail and, hello, it’s the busiest time of the year. Eleanor is doing updos and elaborate hairstyles for holiday parties, so even my favorite romantic is too busy to come over and eat pizza and watch yet another movie.

  It’s Saturday and I should be at the harbor lighted boat parade later tonight, but forget it. I have no one to go with. Not that’s ever stopped me before, but I’ve been ruined.

  Ruined by Charlie.

  I check the guide on my TV, but there is nothing else on.

  Guess it’s more sugar-sweet movies for me. There’s one premiering tonight, so fingers crossed it’s good.

  I’m contemplating calling in a pizza order even though I’m not that hungry, when I see a car pull up in our driveway. I sit up, squinting through the window, but I can’t make out what kind of car it is or who it might be.

  What’s weird is our gate is closed, and I didn’t let anyone in. That’s not my parents, because they’d pull into the garage to park. All my friends are preoccupied, and I know my brothers wouldn’t just magically show up because that’s not their style. They like to warn me of their incoming presence.

  So who could that be?

  Thankful I didn’t turn a lamp on yet, I pause the TV again and creep over to the window, trying to see who it is. My heart does a leap when I see that it’s a giant truck that’s parked in our circular driveway, and when I see that familiar body climb out of it and slam the door, my heart feels like it’s in my throat.

  It’s Charlie.

  I curl my hands into fists, wishing I could punch him. Why is he here? What could he have to say? I don’t want to hear his excuses. I’m over him.

  On the other hand, I’m so glad he’s here. I’m desperate to hear what he has to say, and I want him back in my life so bad, I’d do almost anything.

  The doorbell rings and my pulse jumps. I go to the door, flip all the locks, and open it to find him standing on my doorstep, And oh man, does he look good. Windblown and tired, his jeans dirty and his flannel shirt open at the collar, revealing the white T-shirt he’s wearing beneath it. He’s got his clunky work boots on and the scent of pine clings to him, as usual.

  My heart hurts just looking at him.

  “I’m sorry.” Those are first words out of his mouth. “I’m a jerk for not calling or texting you. I just—I threw up those walls like I do and tried my best to forget you.”

  Ouch. That hurts.

  “But I can’t forget you, Candice. No matter how hard I try. And I know we haven’t been seeing each other that long, and I don’t deserve another chance for shutting you out, but if you could just let me explain everything to you—”

  “Come in.” I open the door wider and his jaw looks ready to hit the floor. “Hurry, it’s cold out there.”

  He scoots in and I shut and lock the door, leaning against it for a moment to gather my bearings. The same words keep running through my head.

  He’s here, he’s here, he’s here!

  I can’t get too excited about it, though.

  Not yet.

  “Do you want something to drink?” I ask as we walk through the foyer. “A glass of water or something?”

  “No.” He catches me by the arm, his fingers curling around the crook of my elbow. “I just want to talk to you, Candice. And tell you how I feel.”

  We stare into each other’s eyes and I get lost for a moment. There’s an intensity in his gaze tonight, one that I haven’t seen before. He looks determined.

  Determined to win me back?

  I sit on the couch and he chooses the chair across from it. I flick on the lamp, illuminating the room in light, and he doesn’t even look around or check out the tree that’s now glowing in front of the window (thanks, automatic timers, for turning our tree on and off). Charlie’s focus is totally on me.

  “My mom told me she lied to you about helping me only a couple of hours before she told you,” he starts out, cutting right to the chase. “I was going to tell you after the party. I know you were stressed with the planning and reorganizing.”

  “I was.” I clear my throat, hating how scratchy my voice sounds. But I’m emotional right now. Just having him here is—a lot.

  “The way my mother approached it, sucked. And I’m sorry about that too. I’m sorry I avoided you. I know I should’ve come to you sooner. This major problem could’ve been solved with a simple conversation, I get it.” He hangs his head, staring at the floor for a moment before he looks back up, staring at me. “This is what I do when it comes to relationships.”

  I frown. “What do you mean? What do you do?”

  “I panic. Worry about a woman wanting too much of my time, so I push her away. Thing is, I like spending all of my time with you.” His lips curve into this barely there smile, and seeing it leaves me breathless. “I didn’t want to push you away. But after what happened that night and you ran out, I fell immediately into my old ways.”

  I can understand that. Charlie is a man who thrives on routine. I threw him off his schedule, and it freaked him out at first. And then when I ran away from him, he went back into his routine.

  “So you didn’t lie to me by keeping what your mother did from me?” I ask, wanting a firm answer.

  “No. No way. She did that—she was trying to help me, and the whole family, really. I think she feels terrible about it.”

  “You haven’t talked to her about it?”

  “I haven’t talked to her at all. I’m too pissed.”

  “Oh Charlie, it’s Christmas. And she’s your mother.” While I’m upset with what Charlie’s mother did, and I don’t quite understand Isabel’s motives, I still think he needs to reach out to her.

  I’d give anything to talk to my mom just one more time, even if we were fighting.

  “I’ll forgive her eventually. I’m just, I don’t know.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes as he falls back into the chair. “I don’t want to lose you, and if I do, she’s partially to blame.”

  Isabel Sullivan and I will work this out. Her actions confuse me, and I get the sense she might be one of those controlling mothers—which is terrifying—but I think Charlie is worth it.

  I know Charlie is worth it.

  Without thought I go to him, fall
ing to my knees in front of him so I can rest my hands on his thighs. “You haven’t lost me.”

  His eyes crack open and he peers down at me, his brows lowered as if he’s confused. “I haven’t?”

  Slowly I shake my head, loving the solid feel of him beneath my palms. “No. I’m still yours—if you want me.”

  “If I want you?” He chuckles and then the next thing I know, he’s gathering me into his arms and hauling me into his lap, holding me so close I almost can’t breathe. “God, Candice, I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you too.” I press my cheek to his, breathing in his delectable scent. “We can’t do that again.”

  “What?”

  “Run away from our problems—me—and shut people out—you.” I kiss his cheek once. Then again, my lips lingering on his stubble-roughened skin. “It’s silly.”

  “Hey.” He pulls away from me and cups my face with his big hands, his gaze serious when it meets mine. “You’re not silly. You know this, right?”

  I nod, pressing my lips together to keep from crying.

  Because he’s going to make me cry right now. I can feel it.

  “You’re smart and you’re generous, and you’re such a bright light, Candice. People want to be around you all the time because you’re so damn nice, and you just make people feel good, you know?” He leans in and kisses me, the sweetest, most gentlest kiss I’ve ever experienced.

  Straight out of a Hallmark movie, I swear.

  “When I see you, I can’t help but smile. Every damn time,” he whispers against my lips before he kisses me again. “I don’t ever want to lose that. Lose you.”

  “I don’t want to lose you either.” I slip my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his soft hair. “I want you to be my Christmas present.”

  “Really?” He kisses me again, this one with a little bit of tongue, and I can’t help but shiver.

  “Yes. All I want for Christmas is you.”

  Another long, drugging kiss later, and when he breaks the kiss, he’s frowning down at me. “Isn’t that the name of a song?”

  I laugh. “Yes, it is. One of my favorite ones.”

  “Really? Guess I’m going to need you to make me a playlist of your favorites so I can play it over the speakers at the farm.”

  My heart squeezes and I gasp. “You’d do that for me?”

  He reaches out and touches the corner of my mouth. “I’d do anything to see that smile of yours, Gaines.”

  Oh my gosh, I am seriously the luckiest girl ever.

  Merry Christmas to me.

  Twenty-Seven

  Charlie

  Christmas Eve

  * * *

  “Are you seriously going to make me walk into your house with my eyes covered?”

  I shut off the truck’s engine. “Yep. Hold on, I’ll guide you in.”

  I hop out of the truck and run around the back of it to the passenger’s side, opening the door to see Candice glaring down at me. Not that I can see her glaring, since there’s a black tie wrapped around her head to cover her eyes.

  But I can feel that glare, coming through the fabric. My girl is annoyed.

  Carefully I guide her out of the truck, using any excuse I can find to touch her everywhere. She bats my hands away when I get close to somewhere close and personal, and all I can do is laugh.

  I don’t think I’ve laughed as much my entire life until Candice walked into it. She makes me that happy.

  “What’s this surprise you’re got for me anyway?” she asks as I lead her from the garage into the laundry room, then into the kitchen.

  We’re at my condo, and her surprise early Christmas present is waiting for her in my living room. I had Victoria help me set it up earlier today, taking her away from the store, which she was glad for the break. Stella and Sarah helped me too, providing a few items that I otherwise wouldn’t have had access to.

  They’re nice women, and good friends to Candice. I like knowing that she has such a solid support group. All the little old ladies she hangs out with at her various charities love her too. Everyone loves Candice.

  I’m pretty sure I’m on the way to loving her myself.

  “I’m not saying a word. You’ll see it in a minute,” I finally say, slipping my arm around her waist and walking her into the living room. I hit the switch on the wall and the special tree I had brought in earlier lights up, casting the entire room in an ethereal glow.

  “Okay. Hold on.” I release my hold on her and undo the knot, the tie falling away from her eyes. “Surprise.”

  She blinks once. Twice. Then turns to look at me. “What is this?”

  “A special tree. Just for you,” I tell her softly.

  It’s flocked white—real, of course, us Sullivans don’t do fake trees—and it’s lit with so many damn lights, Jonesie and I almost killed each other when we wired them around the branches this morning.

  There are at least thirty angel wing ornaments hanging from it. The very same ornament she asked for that night I told her she could pick out one thing and it was hers. There are also iridescent snowflakes that sparkle when the lights hit them just so, and a variety of silver picture frame ornaments.

  Slowly she walks over to it, her lips parted, those velvety brown eyes wide. She reaches out and touches a branch, dipping her head to look at the ornament hanging there. A gasp leaves her, and she covers her mouth with her fingers.

  “Wh-where did you find this?” She points at the silver framed ornament with the photo inside.

  “Sarah got it from Jared.”

  It’s a photo of Candice and her brothers, Jared and Kevin, and their mother.

  “This was taken at Christmas.” She tugs the ornament off the branch, cradling it in her hands carefully as she stares at the image. “Wow, I look so much like her.”

  “You do.” She’s the exact image of her mother. I approach the tree, stopping so I’m standing right next to her.

  “You did this all for me?” She waves a hand at the tree, her eyes glistening with tears, and for once, her tears don’t hurt my heart.

  Nodding, I point at another ornament that contains a photo. “There’s more pictures, Gaines. You need to check them out.”

  So many photos. I had them printed in black and white, so as not to mess up my color scheme—that bit of advice was from my sister—and Sarah and Jared gave me so many. There are photos of her mother by herself, when she was young, when she married Candice’s dad, when she had her babies. Family photos of a woman who was taken too soon, whose memory has been painful for Candice to bear.

  “She’d love you so much, Candice,” I say softly as she cries over the photos. “She’d be proud of you too, just like the rest of us are.”

  “I miss her,” she says on a sob. She shakes her head, tears falling from her cheeks. “It’s hard to think about her, and how she’s not here.”

  “You need to think about her, especially this time of year. Keep her traditions and her memory alive, not only for you, but for your brothers and your dad, and someday for your children.” I’m taking a chance with this gift. I don’t want to hurt her or make her angry, like I’m forcing her to think about her mother.

  But I think she needs this. To help her remember. To help her cope. To eventually get her to smile when she thinks of her mom, instead of stuffing the memories away and pretending they don’t exist.

  I settle into the chair closest to the tree while she looks at every single photo, lingering over some and telling stories. She laughs through her tears, she cries some more, and when she’s looked at each photo and said everything she has to say, she finally comes to me and settles on my lap, laying her head against my chest as we both stare at the beautiful tree.

  “You smell like a forest,” she says.

  “I know.” I kiss her forehead. “Do you like your gift?”

  She lifts her head to look at me. “I love it. It’s—it’s difficult to look at all of those photos, but I have a feeling it�
��ll get easier with time.”

  “You can hang those ornaments every year in her memory. And tell your stories every year too.” I smooth a hand over her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “She needs to be shared, don’t you think? Not forgotten.”

  The tears start again and she nods, then leans in to press her mouth against mine.

  “I think I could fall in love with you, Charles,” she whispers.

  “I’m pretty sure I could fall in love with you too, Gaines,” I whisper back.

  She pulls away, a smile curving her lush lips. “Do I get a free tree every year now?”

  Damn, it pains me a little to say this but, “Yeah. Sure.”

  She bursts out laughing. “You hated saying that, didn’t you?”

  “You know me so well already,” I admit with a chuckle. “But you gotta understand, this thing is flocked. They’re not cheap.”

  “But I’m worth it, right?” She bats her eyelashes at me.

  “So worth it.” I gather her up in my arms. “Merry Christmas, Candice.”

  “Merry Christmas, Charlie.”

  HATE TO DATE YOU Sneak Peek!

  Chapter One

  There are certain people in your life that just—get under your skin. They don’t do anything wrong, they’re perfectly normal in every way, yet when you see that person’s face, you sort of want to…

  Punch it.

  That’s Carter Abbott for me.

  Listen, he’s a fine human being. And I mean that in the, “yes he’s perfectly fine,” way and the, “girl, that man is fine,” way too. Maybe that’s what bothers me. The fact that he’s so ridiculously good looking. I’m pretty sure he knows it too.

  Ugh.

  There are also people in your life who don’t even have to announce their presence, yet you know they’re there. It’s like some weird sixth-sense thing.

  It’s happening right now, in this very moment, while I’m at work during a particularly busy shift. Tourist season is kicking into gear—who am I kidding, it’s always tourist season around here—and the Sweet Dreams café and bakery is one of the most popular places for tourists, and locals, to congregate.