Page 10 of Dare To Kiss You
He doesn’t reply at first, and I chance a look up to see my best friend studying me intently. “Fine. But hear me out first. You can’t keep holding yourself back. I don’t know how to get you to see yourself the way everyone else does, but I sure as shit hope you learn how to soon. Because Hunter Callaghan is a good guy. And Hunter Callaghan deserves to be happy. And Hunter Callaghan needs to get laid. And Hunter Callaghan —“
I hold my hands up in surrender, fighting back a laugh. “Okay, okay, okay, I get it. Enough with the Ric Flair routine.”
He stops and picks up his beer, tilting it toward me in acknowledgment. “As long as you repeat one thing for me.”
“What?” I ask with some trepidation.
“Just say this: ‘I’m worth it.’”
“I’m not L’Oréal,” I deadpan. “How ‘bout I buy the next round instead.”
Asher rolls his eyes skyward. “You’re impossible. But fine. Buy my beer.”
Chapter five
Kat
My mom is who I go to anytime I’m happy, sad, confused, overwhelmed, or all of the above at the same time. When I was working as a nurse in a busy trauma hospital on the mainland, feeling burned out and homesick, she’s the one who reminded me of my childhood dream to be a nurse practitioner, with a focus on women’s health, in our hometown.
Even though my oldest brother Max is the doctor in our family, it was Mom who helped me fill out my application to the University of Victoria’s master of nursing program. She’s the one I celebrated with when I got in, and she’s the one who has provided me with all the late-night study snacks and a shoulder to cry on during my pre-exam freak outs.
But I can’t bring myself to talk to her about my feelings for Hunter.
Yep, there I said it,feelings. I have feelings. As awful as it sounds, I think I have for some time now, but I never allowed myself to acknowledge them because I was committed to Tyson.
A lot of good that did me.
“Hi, honey.” Mom’s cheerful voice floats to me from the kitchen as soon as I close the front door of my childhood home. “I’m just pulling the last batch of cookies out.”
Once I’ve hung up my coat, I follow the smell of cinnamon and spice. Nobody makes gingerbread cookies like Claire Donnelly, and today is our annual cookie decorating marathon, while holiday movies or rom-coms, depending on our mood, play in the background.
“Hey, Mom.” I lean in to give her a kiss before heading to the sink to wash my hands.
“I thought we’d start with gingerbread, then move on to the sugar cookies for your dad. Oh, and I found this new recipe we’ve got to try for meringue wreaths. They’re just adorable.”
“Sounds good to me. Want me to start the movie? What are we watching first?”
Mom dusts off her hands and bustles over to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders for a quick hug. “Doesn’t matter to me, sweetie. Oh, I meant to call you. Did you see the latestBuzz Watcharticle?”
I shake my head. “No, Mom, you’re the only one obsessed with that tabloid,” I tease. She shushes me with a gentle swat to my shoulder. “Well, listen to this. Charisma Cross, the romance author Paige wants to bring to her bookstore, was interviewed about her views on the double standards between men and women when it comes to embracing their sensual side.”
Mom pulls up the article on her phone and hands it to me. My eyes skim the text, and I must admit, the woman has guts. She’s not holding back.
I bet she’d be brave enough to ask the guy she likes to be her date for an event without needing to be dared to do so…
“This is great and all,” I say, handing the phone back to my mom and avoiding her eyes. She knows me far too well. “But let’s face it. Loads of people have said something like this before. It’s not like this is magically going to end misogynism.”
“Hey, we can hope for a Christmas miracle, can’t we?” Mom replies drily and we both laugh. “But seriously, I think she’s got a good message. You know, in my day, there were next to no places for women to safely explore their sexuality. I think it’s great you can find these strip shows, and sex shops, and —“
“Oh my God, Mom, stop!” I cry out, covering my ears with my hands in mock panic. “I know we’re close, but we are not strip show and sex shop close.”
“Relax, Kat.” Mom laughs, shaking her head at me. “I don’t need the details of your intimate relations anymore than you need the details of mine. Past or present.” Her wink makes me cringe ever so slightly.
I might have a deep respect and admiration for my parents’ marriage, and want nothing more than to have something similar for myself someday, but thinking about their sex life? Nope. Not going there.
“The Walkie Talkies were discussing the animal shelter food drive, by the way. Did you know the police department is collecting donations? I nagged your brother to make sure the fire department does the same.”
I fight back a snicker the same way I always do when Mom mentions her walking group. Their name is just too amusing, and she seems oblivious to it. “That’s fantastic, we can definitely use it.”
