Page 86 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“You used to say how cute he was when we were younger.”
“Uh, yeah, because he’s an attractive guy, but that means nothing. He can be handsome and still have an ugly personality.”
“Are you sure? Because I was talking to Aunt Cindy this morning and she was worried that we’re in third place now, and I know how much this means to her. I don’t want you getting distracted.”
“First of all, we’re in third place because of your light display, and the only reason Cole isn’t miles ahead of us at the moment is because I nearly gave myself a concussion sabotaginghislight display. So we should be thrilled we’re in third place. Going on a fake date with Cole is only going to up our merit in this town, and we need that. So why don’t you stop worrying about me and start worrying about your light display and how you can improve it before the final judging.”
I head out of my room and down the stairs, Taran following closely behind. “I don’t think there’s much more I can do to enhance the display.” I pause on the last step and turn toward her.
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “If the judges can’t appreciate simplicity, then that’s on them.”
I rub my temples and try to stay calm as I say, “Taran, the reason we’re in third place is because of the lights. They’re boring. We need more. For the love of God, put more lights on the house. You said it yourself—Aunt Cindy is worried. I’m going on a freaking date with Cole. You can at least pull some weight around here and add more lights.”
“Fake date.”
“Huh?”
“You just said date. Isn’t it a fake date?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and count to five.
“I want you to remember it’s fake,” Taran adds.
“Trust me, there will be nothing real about this date. Not a single thing. The sooner I can get it over with, the better. Now, if you’ll excuseme, I have to practice my smile in the mirror to make sure I’m not snarling when Cole comes to pick me up.”
I move past Taran and head into the powder room.
Remember it’s a fake date…as if I could forget.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cole
’Twas the minute before the date, and all through the house,
not a word was said, not a mention of her blouse.
An eerie calm settled in as she sat ready and waiting
for the man next door she’d never planned on fake dating.
It was one night, that was it, not a promise for more.
So why did butterflies stir with the knock at the door?
I adjust my jacket, nervesshooting through me as I wait for someone to answer the door.
It took me about half an hour to figure out what to wear, and not because I was nervous, but because I had Max chirping in my ear, attempting to be my stylist for the night, making me change over and over until he thought I was wearing something presentable enough…which happened to be the first fucking outfit I tried on.
He then went into overdrive about my hair.
About my deodorant and whether the scent clashed with my cologne—it doesn’t.
And if my jeans should be folded at the top of my brown boots—they are.
Before I left, he gave me a pep talk, told me not to fall in love, to remember the mission, and to look like a charming motherfucker while walking Storee around town. He topped off the pep talk by draping my sash over me and then sending me on my way with a smack on my ass, telling me to take one for the team.
