Chapter 8

Eight

As we gather for parent-teacher conferences in the coming days, let us remember the power of positive words and a positive attitude. Along those lines, please remember teachers love praise as well!

MERRY

Nolan illuminated was a thing of beauty. After breakfast, we obtained as many clear lights as the grocery store offered, but it wasn’t the hundreds of little bulbs that lit Nolan up. No, it was his inner enthusiasm for absolutely everything. He’d relished the breakfast offerings, exclaimed over every knick-knack in the touristy section of the grocery store, and been his usual charming self at our stop by a fabric warehouse I’d used before for bargain fabrics and things like fake flowers.

Thanks to Nolan’s bottomless appetite for all things holiday, we left the fabric store with about double what we’d budgeted for before we ever even reached the flea market. The weekly flea market took place on the grounds of a large football stadium. After we parked, Nolan’s joy became a palpable thing, a happy little creature, complete with wiggles as he took in the rows of pop-up tents that wrapped around the outside of the stadium.

“This is unbelievable.” His eyes were wider than our pancakes had been and equally sweet.

“You’re like one of the kids. Or possibly Barney.” I glanced down at Barney, who was also all wiggly, dancing on his leash as he sensed incoming petting, treats, and other dogs.

“It’s hard not to be excited.” Nolan gestured widely. “Tents as far as the eye can see.” Not waiting for me or Barney, he marched straight ahead. “And the smells!”

“How are you hungry again?” I followed him to the nearest shaved-ice stand.

“Told you. Vacation mode.” He gave me a toothy grin. “When my family took our annual vacation to the Jersey shore, Craig and I always gorged on all the bad-for-us foods we didn’t get the rest of the year.”

“Nice.” I had to chuckle as he ordered a large shaved ice in a rainbow of tropical flavors with condensed milk and ice cream.

“Of course, you pretty much grew up in vacation mode.” Nolan made eating shaved ice into an erotic adventure with each spoonful, and I had to look away from his mouth. “How could you not want to eat Hawaiian shaved ice every day?”

“Now you even sound like one of my kids.”

“They’re onto something.” Continuing to hold his shaved ice, Nolan darted ahead to a huge booth of cheap T-shirts offered in multiples of five. “Oooh, look at these shirts.” He held up a youth-sized shirt with a cartoon of Santa lounging on a beach. “Perfect for our dancing surfer Santas.”

“I’m not sure the budget?—”

“It’s my contribution.” Nolan was already grabbing various sizes of shirts. Undoubtedly realizing he had a big sale on his hands, the booth owner came over to help, and Nolan left with two bags bulging with T-shirts. For a city slicker, he was actually pretty awesome. Listening to him talk about why he was so passionate about being on stage had given me fresh insight into what made him tick—and it wasn’t brands or fame. Rather, I saw an older version of Ryder, who was also a surprisingly vulnerable, complex man.

And the more I understood Nolan, the more appealing he became, which was a big problem. I much preferred when I could dismiss him as another upwardly mobile tourist type. As it turned out, he wasn’t nearly so obnoxious. I was glad he had the bags because otherwise, I might have been tempted to do something stupid like hold his hand. Instead, I tightened my grip on Barney’s leash as Nolan darted to a coffee stall.

“And coffee! I should get some beans for when my folks come at Christmas. Of course, they are such coffee snobs. They might not appreciate the gift.” He twisted his mouth in an adorable display of thinking hard. “And I know better than to get coffee for Cara’s family, who’s descending upon us for Thanksgiving. They’ll bring their preferred brand because they won’t trust us to have it.”

“You don’t get along with Cara’s family?” I asked because his expression was as sour as I’d seen it.

“They’re affluent Southerners who don’t have much patience for me. They’ll help with the kids, spoiling them rotten in the process, but they have opinions on everything. And forget pleasant distractions. They’ll likely have football on all weekend.”

“Poor baby.” I made a sympathetic noise, but it did sound like torture for someone like Nolan, who wanted everyone to like him.

“And don’t get me started on politics.” He gestured with his spoon. “We can discuss the kids and the weather. That’s it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m heading up to North Shore with the boys, but feel free to text me your complaints.”

“Really?” He brightened at the prospect.

“Yeah. After all your festival texts, my phone might not know what to do without you blowing it up.”

“I like that.” He revealed those rarely-seen dimples before squealing and approaching a booth of nothing but Hawaiian-themed Christmas items. “Oh my gosh, we’ve found the motherlode.”

“That’s certainly a lot of Christmas kitsch.” I agreed, bracing for many more bags to carry.

“And these can be prizes!” He held up bags of keychains and whistles before moving to a display of signs and banners. “Oooh, here’s a banner.”

“The budget?—”

“I have vacation money,” he said archly. “Allow me to spend it.”

“All right.” I’d long since learned not to argue with anyone in vacation mode.

“Smart man. Don’t argue with the husband.” The booth owner, an older woman with a Japanese accent, shook an arthritic finger at me.

“Um…” I wasn’t sure how to gracefully correct her. It had been years since I’d been part of any sort of couple, years since I’d wanted to be. But I could also see Nolan’s appeal for someone who wanted that. He’d said he was a bit much, and I’d teased him back, but really, he was sweet enough to counter his high-maintenance tendencies.

“Honey, he should be so lucky.” Nolan, on the other hand, simply grinned back at her as he continued piling things near the booth’s makeshift register station. Several bags of decor and stops at two more booths later, Nolan started scanning the horizon. “Is there a restroom anywhere here?”

“Yes, closer to the stadium. I’ll show you.” I led the way back from the rows of tents through the maze of parking lots to the restrooms at the entrance to the stadium itself. This area had some trees for shade and was more secluded than the crowds navigating the tents.

Once Nolan returned from the restroom, he settled on an empty bench near an overhang of the stadium roof, apparently in no hurry to return to shopping.

“I want to look at our haul.” He spread all the bags out in front of him, bending forward to riffle through them, clucking over this or that find. I’d been to the flea market dozens of times with friends, family, and the boys, but I’d never quite seen the magic of the place until I tried looking through Nolan’s eyes.

“That is a pretty cool banner.” I gestured at the large holiday banner with pictures of lights wrapped around palm trees on either end. The movement brought me closer to Nolan than I’d intended, especially when he suddenly straightened.

“It is,” he said softly, looking deep into my eyes. His lips parted with a sigh. I did a quick glance around us. We were as alone as two people could be out in the open at a crowded event, blocked from view by some concrete pylons. “Merry?”

That little question, the implied, what are we doing here , got me. It’d been much easier to resist Nolan when all I could see was a stuck-up city slicker. But this Nolan, the quietly vulnerable one who found beauty in booths of odds and ends and delight in shaved ice, was a siren. And I was a ship at sea about to wreck, reckless and helpless in the face of his pull.

I scooted closer. Nolan didn’t back away. In fact, he slowly smiled as I leaned in. No shy flower, he leaned in too, meeting me halfway. I brushed my lips across his, a little hello, just to see. And what I found was intoxicating. His lips were supple, a soft landing spot that turned my brief intention into a lingering introduction.

“Wow.” Nolan breathed the word against my lips, and I kissed him again, this time with more purpose. And wow, indeed. Kissing him was like diving into my favorite shaved-ice flavor after a decade of not tasting it. I’d forgotten how much I liked this, simply kissing. Nolan was sweet with layers of sensation, and I couldn’t get enough.

And he kissed me back, not waiting for me to take charge, but an equal give-and-take that swept me along until there was a hooting sound off in the distance and we sprang apart.

“Fuck.” I braced my hands on my knees. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I did.” Nolan chuckled before sobering. “Let me guess, you want to pretend it didn’t happen?”

“No, it definitely did.” I groaned. My phone buzzed with an alarm, warning me about picking up the boys. “And crap. I have to pick up the twins soon.”

“To be continued?” Nolan suggested lightly.

“Maybe,” I said even as my body said hell, yes. Luckily, I had the upcoming Thanksgiving break to figure out what the hell to do about this Nolan problem.