“Well, Mrs. Turley …”
I step backward. This can’t be real.
His eyes twinkle with amusement. “I guess we should discuss the honeymoon.”
My cheeks warm despite the cold December air. “This isn’t funny. And I would never take your name—if this were real, which it’s not.”
“How about a hyphen? Darling-Turley has a ring to it,” he continues, undeterred.
“It most definitely does not. Anyway, how are you so calm about this?” I demand.
His smile softens. “Bree, we already agreed to pretend to be a couple until Christmas. This doesn’t really change anything except for making Mayor Nishimura very happy.”
“And beingmarried! That might work for some people, butI do not subscribe to true love and happily ever after in real life.”
Fletch’s upper lip twitches as he tucks his chin, but he quickly rearranges his features. “A temporary marriage that could be annulled in thirty days. Meanwhile, you get your research, I fulfill my Ho Ho Hockey charity bet obligation, and neither of us pays penalties. Plus, you just mentioned you don’t believe in love anyway, so what’s the difference?”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it. He’s not entirely wrong.
“I should go back to Nina’s. I need to think.”
A deep breath lifts his chest. “I’ll walk you. I live just down the street, anyway.”
Side by side, we plod down the street in awkward silence, the thin layer of fresh snow crunching beneath our boots. The houses along Sweet Corn Court are decked out in holiday splendor—colorful lights, inflatable snowmen, and nativity scenes. All except one, which stands dark and undecorated midway down the block.
Fletch follows my gaze. “That’s mine. Haven’t had time to put up too many decorations yet.”
I nod, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn’t make me sound like a big ole Grinch. My brain is still stuck on the wordmarried.
We reach Nina’s porch, and I’m acutely aware of the mistletoe still hanging inside the doorway—the catalyst for this whole bizarre situation. My cheeks blaze at the memory of our kiss.
Fletch rocks back on his heels. “Well, goodnight, I guess?”
“Goodnight,” I repeat.
The awkwardness continues, suspended as if we’re not sure whether we should shake hands again as we, a married couple, part ways, hug, or kiss. No, not that. Anything but that.
Despite the low temperature, suddenly, I’m sweltering under my jacket.
Breaking the silence, I say, “This is by far the strangest research I’ve ever done for a book.”
His laugh is deep, causing a littlethump, thumpsensation in my chest. I press my hand there, reminding my heart to behave.
“See you tomorrow?” he asks.
Before I can answer, the front door flies open, revealing Nina in her reindeer pajamas, eyes wide with excitement.
Clasping my wrist, she drags me over the threshold. “I saw you two coming up the walk. Tell me everything!”
I look back at Fletch, whose amused expression doesn’t falter.
Mine is as wobbly as my knees were after the original mistletoe kiss that took place here in this very doorway.
I manage to say, “I’ll, um, call you.”
“Looking forward to it,” he replies, and with a small wave, he turns and heads back down the path.
Nina practically pushes me onto the couch and buzzes beside me like a busy bee. A nosy one, too, but a very good friend for letting me stay here. But still, she’s partly to blame for this absurdity.
