Meanwhile, I looked like a Christmas flamingo. My affinity for the color pink had begun at an early age, as evidenced by the photo we were recreating.
The Christmas tree lot in Culver City was our fourth and final stop of the day. In an effort to maximize our time and limit the number of filming locations, I had put together a map—with a corresponding, color-coordinated spreadsheet—for what we were now referring to as the Christmas Calendar Crusade. Three days, four photos per day, and boom, we’d have a calendar.
Leighton had done a once-over of my spreadsheet and then had looked at me like I was the Ghost of Christmas Past. Austin, on the other hand, had simply smiled and said, “Whatever you want.”
You have no idea the things I want to do to you, Santa.
Or the things I wanted him to do to me. Once he got the shot, of course. We had a schedule to keep.
“Alright, cue the snow.”
Somewhere behind us, Killian tossed a handful of fake snow into the air. That was the trickiest thing about recreating pictures originally taken in Ohio—no snow. Thankfully, it hadn’tbeen hard to find a substitute in the land of movie magic, and Killian had been more than happy to help.
“We got it.”
Leighton relaxed her arms and raced over to smooch Killian. Meanwhile, I let the blood return to my other leg. As it turned out, modeling was not for the faint of heart—or foot.
“Okay!” I announced once I could feel both feet again. “Let’s pick out my tree.”
Austin arched a brow.
“You’re actually buying a tree?”
“Of course,” I told him. “Did you really think we were going to visit a tree lot without taking home a tree? What kind of monster do you take me for?
He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet. That plaid wool coat was doing wonders for him. Maybe there was room for one more under there . . .
“You just struck me as more of a pre-lit, fake tree kind of girl.”
Leighton and I both gasped, beyond horrified.
Killian shook his head. “Now you’ve done it, mate.”
That was putting it lightly. Austin didn’t realize the can of worms he had just opened. He was about to, though.
His eyes darted between my sister and me when we surrounded him, like a cut scene from a subpar mafia movie. “That’s the worst thing you could possibly say to me,” I told him. “Wheatleys don’t do fake trees.”
“Or tinsel,” Leighton added. “Never tinsel. It’s flammable.”
“You’re welcome to head back without us, but I am not going home without a tree. Besides, our mom would be horrified if she knew that I waited until the eleventh to get one.”
Those wicked lips of his split into a smirk. “Sounds like we’re picking out a tree, then.”
He winked, and my panties went up in flames.
It was unnerving, feeling this way, especially about somebody I hadn’t even kissed. Somebody who had turned me down and avoided me at all costs for months. But there was something about Austin—an air of mystery that I hadn’t been able to solve yet—that drew me in.
And this time, I wanted more.
Leighton clapped her palms together. “I’m going to grab us all hot chocolate from the front.”
“Thanks, princess,” Killian said, dropping a kiss on her lips before she jetted off toward the tree lot’s café. He waited until she was out of earshot before turning back to face me. “So, we need to talk.”
“Aw, Killian, are you breaking up with me?”
“No.” He pulled a velvet box out of his pocket and cracked it open. My hands shot up to smother my gasp when I saw the pear-shaped diamond resting inside. “I’d like to make you my sister-in-law.”
“Oh my god!”
