Page 95 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
And before I can respond, our order is called, and Cole walks over to the window where he grabs two brats and hands one to me.
I glance down at the bun-encased wiener doused in mustard. “Wow, this is girth-y.”
Cole brings his brat up to his mouth, and before he takes a bite, he says, “Eh, I’ve seen girthy-er.” Then he winks and takes a big bite.
Well, guess I know how the rest of this evening is going to go. Poor company with even poorer, sarcastic, insulting dialogue. Yay for me.
“I can pay for my own gingerbread,” I say to Cole as he takes out his wallet and pays for the gingerbread cookies I plan on bringing home for myself, despite telling Cole they’re for Aunt Cindy and Taran.
“And what kind of date would I be if I let my crush buy her own gingerbread?” he asks in that snarky tone that he’s really ramped up since the mention of his parents.
Deflect much?
I see right through him, and he probably knows I see right through him, hence why he’s especially annoying now. But despite it all, I have to admit this new part of town and the stalls are a great addition. The twirly swing is super cute, and the lights strung all around the perimeter offer just enough light to see what you’re doing but not too much to take away from the ambiance. It reminds me of a German Christmas market but on a much smaller scale, and if that’s what they were going for, they nailed it.
Once purchased, Cole hands me the bag and I reluctantly mutter a “thank you.”
“Anything for my girl,” he says as he drapes his arm over me again.
Yup, we’re back to that.
He’s had his arm around me for the entire stroll through the stalls, playfully showing me different handmade crafts, ornaments, and even a stall full of jam that apparently is in a rivalry with Atlas’s mom’s jam. I almost bought a jar out of spite but held off.
“Not your girl,” I say as we head toward the exit.
“Yeah, I’m getting the sense there won’t be a second date, not from the lack of me trying, though,” he says.
And God, I didn’t even think about a second date. Because the town will want to know. Martha, Mae…Fruitcake Festivus Tanya. Oh God, even Bob Krampus. They’re all going to want to know where this is going, how the date went—and what am I going to say?
I know what Cole will say. That it was the best night of his life and how he wishes I’d say yes to another date. Then he’ll say something along the lines of how I’m just not into him like he’s into me and once again garner sympathy.
“There will be a second date,” I say.
“Oh yeah?” he says, sounding intrigued. “And here I thought I wasn’t winning you over. Tell me all about this second date.”
“It will be one that we come up with on our own, not out in public so we don’t actually have to go on it.”
“Sounds romantic,” he says.
“But we’ll talk about it, get our stories straight. That way the town thinks we’re still seeing each other without people actually seeing us together.”
“Never knew dating you would feel so much like getting ghosted.”
We stop under an archway, and I turn toward him. “Please, Cole, as if you want to go through an evening like this again.”
“I don’t know.” He tugs on a strand of my hair, his ability to be affectionate mind-boggling to me. “I’ve had fun.”
“There is no way—”
“Oh, look at them,” a voice coos from the side.
Christ, are these women following us around?
Plastering on a smile, I look to the side where Martha and Mae are watching us, their hands clasped together in front of them, looking like they’re watching their very own Lovemark movie come to life right in front of their eyes. If only they knew the truth—this man would never be a hero in one of the movies I edit.
“You’re still out and about?” Cole asks in an annoyingly charming voice. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
They both chuckle and wave at him. “We were hoping to catch you two one more time, and it looks like we caught you in just the right place,” Mae says as she points to something above us.
