“Says the guy who doesn’t even have one.”
“You got me there.” The barista called out the drink, but before he stood to collect it for her, he asked, “Hey, would you maybe want to join me in remedying that?”
“Go Christmas tree shopping with you?” she clarified.
“Actually, on second thought, maybe not,” he retracted the invitation. “If your Christmas tree selecting is anything like your past mistletoe choices, I could be in trouble.”
“Hey Buddy, I’ll have you know, Idoknow a little something about Christmas trees. Let’s just say that expertise has been passed down in my own family tree.”
“Oh, really?” One brow pitched up. “I could say the same. So I guess this means that together, we have the potential to select the best Christmas tree this town has ever seen.”
Rachel grinned. She didn’t doubt that one single bit.
CHAPTER12
He was going to have to ask her name again. It wasn’t a date per se, but she would be coming over to his house. Sitting next to him in his truck. Hopefully helping him decorate his newly purchased Christmas tree if the evening went well.
Holden could only get away with calling her Mittens for so long. In reality, she hadn’t even been wearing mittens the last time he saw her. The nickname only bought him so much time.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name,” he rehearsed in front of his bathroom mirror. Fog steamed up the glass, so he took a hand towel to swipe it clean. He’d showered—even shaved—and thrown on a splash of cologne, all the things he would do if this were an actual date.
But it wasn’t one. You couldn’t date someone if you didn’t even know their name.
“What am I going to do, Scout?” Cozied up on the bathmat near the shower, Scout’s jowls flapped with a breath. “I know. I know. I’m totally ridiculous.”
He could go the formal route and call her miss or ma’am, but Holden had learned from both his mother and sister that regardless of age, few women enjoyed being called the latter. That wouldn’t work.
It was much too soon for a term of endearment like sweetheart or honey. Plus, neither of those were really his style.
He would have to find out her name some other way. Maybe he could steal a look at her driver’s license. If they went to Snowbound Brew on Main Street, Hank, the bartender there, would card them. If Holden was quick enough, he could try to sneak a peek before she tucked her I.D. back into her purse. He would have to be fast, but it could be done.
But Holden wasn’t a big drinker, and from what he knew of her, coffee was her preferred beverage. Maybe he could ask the baristas at Bitter Cold to start calling out drink orders by the customer’s name rather than the drink’s. Right, he could totally ask an entire coffee establishment to alter the way they did business just to help him out a little in the dating department. That was completely acceptable.
Holden groaned.
“Could you ask her for me?” He looked down at Scout.
The dog side-eyed him, picked up her stuffed chew toy, and trotted out of the bathroom.
“Alright, I can take the hint.”
He feared his date might do the same as his dog, and the thought of her hightailing away from Holden had his pulse skittering along his neck. They had only interacted a handful of times, and yet there was an instant connection that had Holden feeling like they’d known one another their whole lives. And that was crazy; he would have remembered her.
Women like Mittens didn’t come around Snowdrift Summit often.
Man, he really needed to stop calling her that.
By the time he peered out the window to see her Jeep climbing up the slushy driveway and settling into park, Holden had talked himself in circles. He was just going to be honest and ask for her name. In reality, it wasn’t as though she knew his either. She’d called him buddy a few times, and the sweet term of endearment had him feeling as warm and fuzzy as…well, a pair of Christmas mittens. But he figured it was her way around admitting she hadn’t the foggiest clue his given name either. They were both in the same awkward predicament.
Meeting her at the front door, Holden pulled it open before she even knocked.
“You made it.” He paused. “Come here,you.”
She stepped over the threshold, and Holden interpreted the move as going in for a hug. His two arms wrapped around her tightly and the scent of warm vanilla met his nose when he pressed his face near her wavy blonde tresses. Goodness, she smelled like a Christmas kitchen, sugary and sweet.
“Hey,you,” she echoed his generic greeting.
Withdrawing from his embrace, she grinned. Her lips were painted a darker pink than normal. Holden noted the sweep of shimmery powder over her eyes and a rim of black coating thick lashes, like she’d prepared for their evening with more makeup than usual.
