“I sabotaged your cookie swap last night. I figured it’s the least I could do.”
“I thought being my shopping bag boy was your way of making it up to me,” I say, and I can’t lie—I do enjoy the view of him hauling my gifts.
“You told me it was important to you that someone isn’t afraid to say he’s sorry.”
My heart stutters. He remembered my words from the tree farm precisely. “Yes, I did,” I say softly.
“It was on your big three.”
My breath catches. It’s not from the money spent, but the meaning behind it. “It was. It is. I’m…touched, Rowan. You really didn’t have to though. You’ve done so much, staying to help clean up, and now this.”
“What can I say? I overdeliver, Isla. Consider thatmydating tip—a man should overdeliver,” he says, locking his gaze on mine, and leaving his meaning hanging in the bustling holiday air.
I can’t think of anything else but him overdelivering inallthe ways as we shop. But I do my best to push it out of my mind once more. We canvas the rest of the building, where I pick up a terrarium for my nephew, a science kit for my niece, several cheeses for my father, a board game for Natalie, and a kitschy tea set for my mom, who likes everything with a little quirk to it. When we’re done, Rowan is loaded down with even more of the canvas bags I brought, but he carries them with ease.
“You don’t fuck around when it comes to Christmas shopping, do you?” he asks, glancing at his cargo.
“I don’t,” I say, relieved we made it through the trip without any more innuendo.
But as we head toward the exit, we wander past a vegan sushi place that opened more than a year ago.Longingly, I gaze at the window and the sushi bar beyond, where chefs wield sharp knives and slice up veggies to use in amazingly clever taste combinations when it opens soon for dinner.
“You ever been there?” Rowan asks.
I jerk my gaze away. It’s pointless to be sad about a restaurant. “I wanted to. I asked my ex, but he never wanted to go,” I say, like it isn’t a big deal.
“Because he wouldn’t eat just veggies for a night?” Rowan asks with a scoff that says my ex is a dickhead.
He’s not wrong.
“That’s not the reason,” I say, shaking my head. Best not to get into JD Voorhees right now. Or ever with a client.
“What’s the reason?” Rowan presses, concern in his voice.
I sigh. I don’t love talking about my horribly failed romance, but Rowan’s been open enough about his. “He didn’t want to go anywhere special with me. Not Kauai, where I wanted to go for New Year’s. Not to the farmers’ market. Not to this restaurant. He was with someone else at the same time,” I admit, but that hardly covers his transgressions. “And I had no idea. No clue he was actually…married.”
Rowan seethes. His fists clench. “I will find him and kill him.”
“He’s not worth it,” I reply, and that’s the truest thing I can say about the finance guy I met at a farmers’ market when we were reaching for the same bouquet of flowers—like in a movie. And like in a film, JD dazzled me while never letting on he was taken. An image of JD’s charming smile flashes before my eyes. “He’s really not worth it.”
Rowan stops, forcing me to stop as well. Holding mygaze with an intensity that I suspect is reserved for the ice, he adds, “But you are.”
My chest flutters again in a whole new way. “Thank you. I appreciate that,” I say, fighting off the swoon I’m swooning. It feels good, even for a few seconds to believe he means it. But he’s just brightening my spirits.
“I’ll take you there,” he says, his jaw set, his eyes filled with determination.
Oh, my. He’s serious. This isn’t one of his fake date jokes. And I’m…touched. I hardly know what to say, even though I want to accept his offer so very badly. “It’s…it’s three in the afternoon and it’s closed and you’re playing tonight.”
Rowan’s silent for a few seconds, his gaze assessing the restaurant and the chefs in it, before he returns to me. “Another day then,” he says, still resolute. But then, a smile spreads nice and slow. His eyes flicker with…something like a plan. “After all, you said I’m not any good at dating.”
I scrunch my brow. “But what does that have to do with…the restaurant?”
“If I take you there. It’ll help with the matchmaking, you know,” he says, the grin turning cockier. More clever. “A practice date and all. For the grinch.”
I lift a hand to rub my ear. I can’t possibly have heard him right, especially after the way he’s teased me about me wanting to date him all along. “You want to go on a practice date to that restaurant?”
“Doesn’t have to be this place. Can be anywhere, really.” He gives an easy shrug. “Maybe even a couple practice dates. You want to make sure I’m dateable. I owe it to you, and Jason and my friends, to make more of an effort, especially after what I did last night. Sounds like a win-win.”
“Are you for real? Or is this another way of you trying to trick me into fake dating you, like you’ve done from the start?”
