Bertram lowered his cup to the table, and I poured coffee to the brim. “You mean my co-owner,” I said, feeling Nathan’s eyes on me.
Bertram waved his hand. “Oh, pishposh hogwash. I’m old, not blind.”
Nathan’s gaze held mine steady, sending a rollercoaster through my stomach.
He shrugged. “He’s very perceptive. It’s why he keeps beating me.”
“I keep beating you, boy, because you’re always looking at her.”
Nathan scoffed. “She’s easier on the eyes than your ugly mug.”
Bertram flipped him off, which sent Nathan into a fit of laughter. Merriment filled his gorgeous eyes. No sight had ever made me happier.
“I’m about to side with Allison over your little gambling club,” I said, motioning to the table.
“Idle threats,” Bertram said. “Aside from myverygenerous tips, I’ve got an ace up my sleeve.”
He gestured to Nathan who flashed me his most decadent smile, one that adorably crinkled his eyes. I wanted to see it every day for the rest of my life.
I fought to keep my face impassive. “Thathasnoeffect on me.”
Bertram slowly shook his head and placed a hand on my forearm. “Kid, you would be awful at poker.”
33
NATHAN
Now
I pulled Brenna tome as soon as the front door to our house closed, signifying the end of a successful open house.
“Nathan!” she yelped, momentarily leaving her feet while her body pressed solidly against mine.
I grinned at her, unable to keep my lips from settling into a once unfamiliar shape.
“Okay, now that that’s done”—I twirled a strand of her hair around my finger—“it’s time for Christmas.”
“Uh, Christmas is in two weeks, Nate.”
No one else called me that. I’d never liked the nickname, butallwords sounded good from her lips.
“I know. And we’re not ready. At all.” The barren house stood in stark contrast to the café and every other spot in Middlebury. We didn’t have plans to show the house again until the new year, so we had weeks to do as we wished. “Go get ready, because we’re about to change that.”
A slow smile crossed her face. “What are we doing?”
“It’s called a date, Quinn.” I dropped a kiss on her forehead. “We’ve got a lot on the docket, so stop dawdling.”
For weeks I’d thought about this—Brenna and I enjoying a day to ourselves, not worrying about the house or the café. Middlebury had no shortage of magic at the holidays, and I wanted to share it all with her.
Brenna wore a black peacoat, a thick scarf, and a beanie with a pom-pom on top, even in this mild weather. It was hard to believe she’d survived the Chicago cold for years. My lips twitched as I studied her winter attire, but I didn’t say anything, instead enjoying how adorable she looked in it. She clutched my hand as we left the house and headed to my father’s car.
It took ten minutes to get to the Christmas tree farm on the outskirts of Palmer City. We navigated the busy parking lot, apparently not the only people who had waited until the last minute to buy a tree. I hoped to find something decent of a manageable size to carry into the house.
I rubbed my bare hands together to bring some warmth. “First order of business is picking the perfect tree.”
“Does this mean we’re spending Christmas together?”
A couple of minutes in the cold, and Brenna’s cheeks had already turned crimson. That flush of hers nearly had me hauling her back to the car and showing her exactly how much I liked the color on her.
