I squealed and laughed, our limbs tangled in glee. Cuddling with Harvey was better than anything I could ever get under the Christmas tree.
26
Sweet Dreams
As much as I wanted to stay with Harvey, I had to go home eventually.
“I’ve got a Cinderella curfew,” I told Harvey as I tugged my warm sweater on.
“Does that mean I get to keep your boot?” He got down on his knee, my cheeks heating at the proposal-esque pose, and wiggled the jingling footwear at me.
I giggled and laid my hands on his shoulders for balance. “No.”
After helping me get my boots on, Harvey stood, squeezed the puffy parts of my jacket and pulled me against him. He peppered me with affection, starting a train of kisses that went from my lips to my neck.
“I can’t stay,” I whined, pushing on his chest so I didn’t melt into his embrace.
“I know. I wish…” He hung his head and hugged me. “Ah, I’ll see you tomorrow, anyway. We’ll set up our next date then.”
“I can’t wait.” I kissed his cheek and bounced into a tighter embrace.
Chuckling, he kissed my shoulder.
I wished I could stay and enjoy a million more little moments like this. But even without my overbearing family, mall duties demanded a good night’s sleep. If I was lucky, I’d dream of Harvey.
He walked me out to the car in the long-sleeved shirt I’d been wearing most of the evening, his breath coming out in pretty swirls against the dark sky. “Text me when you get home.”
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes twinkled with the reflection of streetlights and snowflakes. He cupped my cheeks and kissed me. “Bye, Shelby.”
“Bye, Harvey.” I got into my car and started the engine.
Harvey waited until I was at the end of the block to shuffle into his building, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his flannel pajama pants. He must’ve been freezing, but he still escorted me to safety. What a classy guy.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel and hummed along to the radio on my way home. By the time I pulled into the driveway, my heart was filled with a melody.
Mom peeked out the curtains. I waved, though I wasn’t sure she could see me.
When I came in, she had her back to me and scraped a broom against the old hardwood floor. “How was your evening?”
“Good. We made spaghetti.” And love. All in all, a fantastic evening.
Mom kept sweeping the foyer. “We’re hosting tomorrow. You’ve got an opening shift, correct?”
I pulled off my boots by the door. “Yes, but I wouldn’t count on my being home by six.”
“Why not?”
“It’s been busy. Everybody rushes last-minute for Christmas cards or to at least do a social media thing.” I hung my coat andsmiled at the memory of Harvey’s photos with Santa. Would he ever post them? Or would he let me?
Mom propped the broom upright. “If you can make time for dating, you make time for family.”
Yeah, but Harvey wasn’t demanding. He wanted to workwithme.
Mom shuffled past me, her slippers scraping the hardwood floor. “That job asks too much of you. Why should you have to stay longer to hand out candy? People can line up by themselves without your help.”
“Is that what you think I do? Point and hand stuff out for ten hours?” I asked tightly.
