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
I bought us tickets to the movies in one of the main theaters downtown. They had huge seats that reclined back, and they served dinner. It was a nice way to spend an average Friday night, but during the holidays, it was incredible. They would have Christmas movie marathons and give out popcorn tossed with M&Ms. They strung lights in the lobbies and had theme nights. I usually attended the animated Christmas ones, where they featured Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Charlie Brown, and of course my new favorite, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. But I knew my own Little Grinchy—not that she was mine—would have hated that. Thankfully, when I checked the online schedule and saw this showing, I knew she would love it. I was flexing my romance muscles, if you will.
Tonight’s feature was Christmas movies that weren’t exactly Christmas-themed. Therefore, we were going to see Die Hard.
Again, it seemed like a great idea at the time I booked tickets. It was meant to be innocent fun—me and Olive dressed all cozy watching a good action movie. Maybe I’d get a little action myself by casually letting our elbows touch and eventually wrapping my arm around her, just to have her close to me. Afterward, we could go to dinner. I’d drop her off at home at the end of the night. Move on to the next day, no sweat.
That all sounded great, until she walked into the living room at her parents house.
Olive looked like a living, breathing teenage-Finn’s dream.
She was wearing those leggings I couldn’t stop thinking about topped with a Colorado Avalanche shirt and jacket. Her cheeks flushed when our eyes met, like she was nervous to see me. Which was ridiculous because one glance of her in that shirt and those leggings, and I was ready to throw all caution to the wind and take her right there. Her blonde hair was effortlessly curled and framed her tan face. Though she was wearing more makeup than usual, her gorgeous freckles still dusted her cheeks. She looked almost shy—her cheeks were a perfect shade of pink, and I loved that she looked so innocent. My mouth was caught open. I had told her to dress comfortably. I did not tell her to wear a shirt with my favorite hockey team on it and leggings that made her look perfect enough for me to grab.