I stop with a hand on the door. “You’re welcome. And thank you for the cocoa and a very nice evening. It was nice meeting you, Oakley.” Despite her sister’s eagle-eyed watchfulness, I toss caution to the wind. “And, Everly,” I wait until there’s full eye contact, and then another heartbeat, “I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter 8
Everly
“Well. This was a new approach.”
I spin the lock behind Knox, avoiding my sister’s direct stare. The mess Knox and I made offers an easy focal point. I pick up an empty plastic bag. “Approach?”
“I’ve heard of flowers, or maybe a cup of fancy coffee—but a Christmas tree?”
I smirk. “Do you never watch Christmas movies?”
“Good one, sissy.” Her hands fist while she waves and undulates both arms and hips, jumping into a silly, off-kilter dance. “Everly has a boyfriend. Everly has a boyfriend!”
I swat her as I pass by. “No, Everly doesnothave a boyfriend.”
“She could if she wanted to.” Oakley gets in my face. “She wants to, riiight?” Therightgets drawn out long and meaningfully.
“Wrong.”
“Ugh. You’re nuts.”
I swipe up an empty ornament box and dump it into the crinkly bag. “You’re nuts.”
“Come on, Ev. He’s a nice guy.”
I scrunch up a wad of cellophane wrapping and stuff it into the bag as well. “How do you know that?” Youknow it, Everly Anne.
“Oh, please. It’s obvious.”
I grind to a halt. Little sisters can be as pesky as mosquitos on a summer eve. “Do tell.”
She flicks her hand up, prepared to tick things off one by one. “He made solid eye contact with me. None of that shifty, looking around stuff.”
“Oh, goody. Eye contact. I’m sold.”
A second finger gets tagged. “His handshake was firm.”
“Book the chapel.”
She shimmies her head, snottily mimic-mouthing my sarcasm. “Aaand he has a great smile.” She pops in front of me, forcing me to look at her. “Go ahead. Deny it.”
She knows I can’t. How could I when the memory of said smile will tuck me into bed tonight and probably several more to come. Further—and I will most certainly keep this part to myself—the moment my heart knows he almost kissed me is lodged in concrete in my brain.
Fingers snap in front of my face. “You’re holding out on me, aren’t you?”
“Maybe, maybe not. My prerogative.”
She stomps her foot. “Ev-er-ly.”
I laugh. Having the upper hand on a kid sister is magical.
“Please tell me you’re not going to write this guy off because of something dumb, like he doesn’t wear a suit and tie to work.”
“Of course not.” How shallow does she think I am? But there are other reasons, reasons like…
“He’s cute, Ev. And he seems nice. Almost obnoxiously nice.” She snickers. “Besides, it’s time you let someone get the bad taste of Lance the Loser out of your mouth. That was years ago, and what’s his face at work shouldn’t even count.”
