Chapters (48)
- 1. One
- 2. Two
- 3. Three
- 4. Four
- 5. Five
- 6. Six
- 7. Seven
- 8. Eight
- 9. Nine
- 10. Ten
- 11. Eleven
- 12. Twelve
- 13. Thirteen
- 14. Fourteen
- 15. Fifteen
- 16. Sixteen
- 17. Seventeen
- 18. Eighteen
- 19. Nineteen
- 20. Twenty
- 21. Twenty-One
- 22. Twenty-Two
- 23. Twenty-Three
- 24. Twenty-Four
- 25. Twenty-Five
- 26. Twenty-Six
- 27. Twenty-Seven
- 28. Twenty-Eight
- 29. Twenty-Nine
- 30. Thirty
- 31. Thirty-One
- 32. Thirty-Two
- 33. Thirty-three
- 34. Thirty-Four
- 35. Thirty-Five
- 36. Thirty-Six
- 37. Thirty-Seven
- 38. Thirty-Eight
- 39. Thirty-Nine
- 40. Forty
- 41. Forty-One
- 42. Forty-Two
- 43. Forty-three
- 44. Epilogue
- Afterword
- Also by
- Acknowledgments
- About Author
And Olive seemed like she was enjoying herself too. It’s hard to say with her, because she definitely keeps her feelings locked in tight. But every now and then she would give me one of those sweet smiles, and I felt like maybe I was doing something right.
What wasn’t clicking for me was why she hadn’t found her own date to visit her family. Or why she didn’t already have a boyfriend. She was drop-dead gorgeous, and even though she wasn’t quick to open up, she had a solid personality. Surely she would have no problems getting a guy from Florida to come up to stay with her and meet her family. Wait. Can you be jealous of an imaginary person? Ugh, douchebag.
“So, why aren’t you dating someone?” I blurted.
“Um. Just don’t have much time. I work as much as I can. I edit for ten different podcasts and each releases one episode a week. If the schedule falls behind on them, they’ll blame me for it.”
“Yeah, I get that. But still, nobody? No guy friends or one-night stands? A cool ex that liked your family?”
“Nope. Nope. None of that.” Little liar. She answered way too fast.
“Oh, come on there’s got to be somebody. What does it take to qualify as the Olive Moore’s boyfriend?” I took on an accent to lighten the mood.
“I don’t know,” she said, trailing off. “I want someone who will look at me like I’m the only person in the room.” There was sorrow in that answer. A past, a history I was completely unaware of and would likely never discover. All the same, I wedged her answer into my memories—just in case.
“So, what other plans do you have while you’re in town?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Probably work mostly. I’m sure Mom will make plans for us all on Christmas Eve.” She said it like that was the most torturous thing to ever happen.
“That’s it? You’re here for two weeks—“
“Twelve days.”
“And that’s your plan? Just work?”
I could think of a hundred amazing things she could do here in twelve days and only a couple of them involved us possibly getting naked. Which is when it hit me. The greatest idea I’d had in a long time.
“I’m gonna give you the twelve days of Christmas.”
“What?” She looked up from her drink with her cute mouth in a frown.
“I’m. Going. To. Give. You. The. Twelve. Days. Of. Christmas.” I repeated it word for word. What was so hard to get?
“I don’t want a bunch of birds.”