Faking it for Christmas

Chapter 3

Grace

The plan for tonight was supposed to be a simple girls’ night—cheap drinks, fried food, bad music, and Maria forcing me to stop obsessing over tomorrow’s three-hour drive home and what was waiting for me there.

Instead, ten minutes after we walked into the bar, our girls' night somehow turned into a full-blown family reunion.

Maria practically tackled her brother after walking through the door. She was crying and laughing at the same time, while his two friends looked on from a short distance away like they’d seen this show before.

The bar is louder than I expected—not frat-party loud, but packed-with-people-who-need-to-forget-their-lives-for-a-night kind of loud. Laughter spills over the clacking of pool balls. Someone near the back of the bar is shouting at a football game on TV. The overhead lights are dim, but the holiday string lights give everything a warm, amber glow.

It’s a cozy chaos.

Maria introduces me to her brother first, and Gabriel Alvarez is as warm as she is—same smile, same dark curls, same easygoing charm that makes him hard not to like.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand with a smile.

“You too. That’s Morales,” he says, nodding toward a tall, bright-eyed man beside him with a megawatt smile. “And that’s Reese.” He nods to the opposite man, who just nods his head in acknowledgement.

Morales steps closer. “Call me Rico,” he corrects, immediately taking my hand in his and kissing the back of it—he plays the role of flirt so naturally that I can’t help but laugh even as my cheeks warm at the gesture. I didn't even think guys still did stuff like that, but then again, it's been a while since my last date.

Gabriel smacks Morales in the back of the head. “Don’t be weird, man.”

"I was being nice, man, just because you don't have manners doesn't mean the rest of us don't," Morales says.

The two are now bickering like siblings instead of friends. I grunt a little when Maria jabs me in the ribs with her elbow, grinning like she already has half a dozen theories about who I should be interested in before the night has even started. I glare at her, and she winks at me like the menace she is.

Morales and Gabriel are both nice and funny, but my attention has already drifted past their laughter, past the banter, past the familiar warmth of their reunion between the two siblings and over to the quiet man standing slightly apart from the rest of the group.

Reese.

He’s taller than the others, like I mean, tall, tall. The kind of tall that makes a girl my height actually feel small for a change. And that’s hard to do when you're five-foot-eight.

He is broad-shouldered, a feature that is barely hidden under a well-worn jacket. His posture looks relaxed in a way that still feels…controlled. His ball cap sits low, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes, and yet even if I can see them, I feel them.

Watching me.

It is the kind of gaze that says he doesn’t miss much.

There’s an intensity to him that seems to draw me in even as the rational part of my brain tells me not to. He isn't overly flirtatious like Morales or loud like Gabriel.

There is something quieter, heavier that rolls off of him in thick waves. A small, irrational part of me wants to step closer to him just to see if that heaviness that I feel from him lifts.

Maria announces the drinks' arrival, snapping me out of whatever spell I’m falling into from just looking at him. Several drinks later, and the next thing I know, we’re all gathered around a nearby pool table. Well... everyone except for Reese. He stands near one of the high-top tables in the back of the bar, one hand wrapped around a bottle of beer, the other in his jacket pocket, while watching the game from a distance.

Or is he just watching me? I can't tell.

I pretend I don’t notice. That it doesn't bother me that he can watch me so closely all night, but refuses to say a single word to me.

But I very much notice. And I do care.

It's my turn now, and though I am not even close to buzzing, I still just suck at this game. Morales slips in behind me to help adjust my hold on the cue—apparently, I’m far worse than I even thought I was — and his hands close over mine. He’s friendly and harmless, but something inside of me prickles.

I can feel someone's intense gaze on me. It presses between my shoulder blades like a heavy weight. I risk a quick glance at Reese over my shoulder. Heat flares under my skin as I take notice that the muscles are ticking away rapidly in his jaw like he is angry. I quickly looked away before I impaled myself with the pool cue.

Smooth, Grace. Very smooth.

After another round of drinks, and I am starting to loosen up even more. The game gets funnier, and before I know it, I am laughing and joking with everyone as Maria teases her brother about something involving a badly cooked Thanksgiving turkey that he was lucky enough to miss.

Our laughter dies down, and I wipe the tears from my eyes that came from belly laughing so hard, and I check my phone.

9:30 the display reads, and I sigh.

Crap.

“I should probably head out now,” I say lightly as I rise from my chair.

“What, why? It’s still early,” Morales pouts, as if he is actually sad to see me have to leave.

“Sorry, I have a three-hour trip tomorrow morning, and if I don't leave now, it will be nearly impossible for me to pry myself from my bed in the morning,” I say with a chuckle.

Maria groans dramatically and rolls her eyes. “Boooo. Leave Tuesday. Pack tomorrow. Let's get kidnapped by elves tonight!”

“Absolutely not,” I laugh. “And if elves try to kidnap me, I’m calling you first.”

“Oh, I would help them,” she fires back as she rises and wraps her arms around me in a hug while giggling. Maria squeezes me tight enough to make my ribs creak. “Text me when you get home,” she demands like an overprotective mother hen.

“I will,” I promised with a roll of my eye.

When she lets me go, Gabriel steps in for a quick, warm hug while Morales gives me a two-finger salute like he’s sending me off to war. And Reese… well, Reese only watches, his chin dipping in the faintest nod. If I hadn't been paying close enough attention, I would have missed it for sure.

“Night,” I say, a little too aware of his eyes on me as I grab my jacket and wave goodbye to all of them.

Then I slip out into the cold, brisk winter air. It hits like a slap to the face—sharp, and sobering. My breath fogs instantly, curling into the dark like smoke. I pull my scarf from my purse and wrap it around my neck before tucking my jaw down into it and starting the walk home.

I am grateful for the silence after all the laughter and noise of the bar. But if I thought that the walk was going to be quiet, I was mistaken because my thoughts refused to stop spinning.

What were they spinning about?

Reese

A man who had barely said a single word to me all night, and somehow he still felt like the loudest presence in the room.

Who is like that?

A man I’ve known for all of five minutes shouldn’t be occupying this much space in my mind. But as I walk home, I keep replaying the moment our eyes first met across the bar—brief, sharp, and it was like the air had shifted, and neither of us was sure why.

It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.

It's just the fact that it has been too long since I have come across someone who actually piqued my interest for longer than two seconds. Maybe it is because he didn't need to speak to make me know that he was there, watching me, that made me unable to get him out of my mind.

The crunch of snow under my boots on frozen pavement keeps time with my thoughts; each step feels like it is dragging me back to that single look.

“Pull it together, Grace, you will probably never see him again after tonight.”

Does that help?

Nope. Not even close.

It’s only when I reach the end of the block that is right before mine that I go to text Maria, only my hand brushes an empty pocket, and my stomach drops.

My phone is missing; more than likely, it is still sitting on that sticky wooden table next to Morales’s empty beer bottle after I checked the time.

“Damn it,” I mutter into my scarf.

I briefly consider turning back to retrieve it, but I’m already this close to home, and I am far too cold to retrace my steps. I’ll just grab it tomorrow on my way out of town. Maria will probably text me a hundred times between now and then, but she’ll survive one missed status update. She will understand.

I keep walking towards home.

My building comes into view a few moments later, golden light spilling out from the lobby windows, promising heat and quiet. Relief washes through me—right up until I notice someone standing under the awning.

What the hell?

Why is Parker Adams standing outside my apartment complex?

I haven't seen him since we were still in high school. Our parents were best friends, and that made us friends by default. But I haven't so much as thought about Parker since I left Willow Creek, and now he is standing there looking like he is waiting for something— or maybe someone.

He looks at his watch again, and I can see him visibly sigh, but when he looks up and spots me across the street, his face splits into a wide smile.

“Grace,” he calls, waving frantically like there is some way that I might actually miss him.

Parker jogs across the street, his breath puffing in the cold like tiny clouds. And before I can even prepare or dodge what is about to come next, he pulls me into a hug.

A hug.

From a man I haven’t seen in years.

“Uh—hi, Parker,” I managed, my voice muffled against his coat. His cologne is strong, sharp and unfamiliar.

“I messaged you to let you know I was here,” he says as he pulls back, letting me breathe without interference from his overpowering scent. He is smiling at me so hard that there is no way that his cheeks aren't aching right now.

“Umm… I seem to have left my phone somewhere.” I explain for some reason, though I’m not sure why I feel the need to justify myself. “Wait, Parker, what are you doing here?”

His smile drops slightly, but not all the way. "What do you mean? Your mom said that I was to pick you up and bring you home tomorrow for Christmas on my way in. I thought that, since we were leaving so early in the morning, that I would just stay here with you."

Whoa, Parker coming to Christmas isn't that big of a deal, but him sleeping here? In my apartment? With me?

My stomach drops again, harder this time, as the realization smacks me in the face...hard.

Nope nope nope nope NOPE

This is who my mother was referring to in her message about finding the right one. My Mr Right. She had been talking about Parker. And she asked him to bring me home.

Though her message earlier said nothing of the sort, and for the first time, I actually want to yell at her for doing something so, so…insane.

It's one thing to try and set me up with someone for the holidays. That I can deal with. But sending them to pick me up and sleep at my house? Without letting me know in advance what was happening? Well, that is a little more than I can handle.

“Your mom didn't tell you? Did she?” Parker asks as he runs his hand over the back of his neck. It’s his tell that he is now nervous and uncomfortable.

Well, that makes two of us, buddy.

“I—no. She did not mention that,” I say, trying to sound polite instead of horrified.

Parker and I stand there in the most awkward of silences that man has ever been witness to because neither of us is sure what to do now. Am I supposed to just invite him inside? Let him stay the night and pretend tomorrow that this was not the most ridiculous set-up my mother has ever orchestrated?

"Look, Parker—" I start, but I’m not even sure what I’m about to say when a deep, low voice cuts through the night behind me.

“Babe, what have I told you about leaving your phone behind?”

I freeze for a moment before turning my head to look back over my shoulder. I am not sure what I expected, or who I expected to find, but it sure was not the six-foot-six, broad-shouldered Marine strolling up the sidewalk with ease, with my phone clearly in his hand.

His footfalls are nearly silent in the snow, while his expression is unreadable beneath the brim of his ball cap. He stops beside me like he’s meant to be there, like this is something that we’ve done a hundred times before.

His arm slips around my shoulders, and I swear my heart stops beating altogether.

“Maria texted,” he says as he taps the screen. His voice is rough, low, and it sends a shiver down my spine that I wish I could ignore.

I am breathless as I look at the screen and see a message that is typed out in the notes app on my phone.

It's two simple words.

Play along.

What does that mean?

“Oh,” Parker says, and I can practically hear the gears grinding in his head. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were… um…” His eyes drop to the fraction of space between Reese and me. “…with someone.”

I go to open my mouth to deny it. To say that I barely know the man who is standing beside me.

But nothing comes out when I do.

But apparently, the man beside me doesn't have the same problem because Reese sticks his hand out to Parker like this is the most natural of situations, and when the words fall from his lips, I think I might actually die from a heart attack.

“Dawson Reese, I am Grace’s boyfriend.”