Chapter Five

Holly

“ W ait,” I say, tugging on the sleeve of Mark’s leather jacket. I never would have thought he was the kind of guy to wear a leather jacket. Sure, it has a fur trim and is more of a coat than a jacket, but it’s still cool. And if I’m honest, it looks really good on him.

“What’s wrong now, Bambi?” he asks with a grunt. “You have your coffee.”

“That one looks better,” I say, pointing toward the large promotional poster.

Mark, however, doesn’t seem to share my sentiment since he arches a brow. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

“Of course not. I ordered a cinnamon latte, and that one’s a gingerbread latte.” I let out a groan. “Damn it. I should have picked that one.”

His thick brows dip as he furrows them, glancing from my cup to the poster. “They both have cinnamon,” he says as if I’m crazy.

I glance back at the poster, see the cinnamon swirl at the top, and then glance back at my coffee. “I guess you’re right,” I say. “Never mind. I’m just being stupid.” I tug on his sleeve again, ready to drag him toward an empty table, but he doesn’t budge, so I turn around seeing him still staring down at me.

Mark lets out a heavy breath, closes his eyes for a second, and pulls his wallet out of his jacket, heading toward the counter. My eyes follow him as he reaches the counter, and points at the poster.

My brows lift. He didn’t just buy me a new drink… did he?

My question is answered when the server places a hot drink on the counter, and Mark picks it up, heading toward me. Oh my god, he did.

“Here,” he says, holding out the gingerbread latte like it’s a bomb. My smile widens as I reach out and grab it from him. He tilts his head, with a hint of a scowl still on his face, as he watches me take a sip. “How is it?” he asks.

The hot drink engulfs my mouth, and I swallow it down, letting out a hum. “ Mmmm . So much better.”

He watches me for a second, his face free from any emotion, before he arches a brow. “It tastes the same, doesn’t it?”

“No,” I lie, shaking my head before I take another sip of the coffee. “It tastes so different.”

Honestly, I can’t even tell a difference from the normal cinnamon latte I usually get, but there’s no way I’m going to admit that to him after he bought me the damn thing.

Even with my amazing acting, Mark doesn’t seem all that convinced, shaking his head as he grabs my cinnamon latte from me. Since I’m not going to drink it, I figure he’ll just throw it out, but he does the last thing I expect and brings it to his lips, taking a sip. His face screws up as he swallows the drink and shoots me a glare. “How the hell can you drink this?” he asks. “It’s pure sugar.”

“Well then maybe it’ll sweeten you up,” I tell him with a chuckle, lightly patting his cheek. The big grump narrows his eyes down at me, and I can’t help but laugh. “You didn’t have to buy me a new drink, you know?” I say, with a smile. “But I definitely like you more now that you have.”

His brow lifts an inch. “You didn’t like me before?”

“I did,” I confirm with a nod. “But I like you more now ,” I clarify with a grin.

He furrows his brows at that, watching me. “You hardly know me, Bambi.”

Pursing my lips, I shake my head. “That’s not true.”

“No?” he asks, lifting his brows with curiosity.

I shake my head again. “I know a lot about you. For example, I know that you’re secretly a softie.”

Mark shoots me a glare. “You live in your own world, don’t you?”

“And that you love to dance,” I continue with a smile.

“Do not.”

I wave him off. “And that you hate Christmas for some bizarre out-of-this-world reason.”

“Oh look,” he says, dryly. “Finally hit one on the head.”

“See?” I say, shooting him a wink before I take a sip of my coffee. “I know you so well.”

He blinks. “That’s the complete opposite of what just happened.”

“Okay, fine,” I sigh, pulling out a chair from the nearest table before I sit down. “Tell me something about you then.”

He watches me for a minute. “We’re not here for me.”

“C’mon,” I say, gesturing toward the empty chair in front of me. “I want a friend.”

“You want a friend ?” he asks, like the concept is foreign to him.

“Yes. A friend.” I pat the table, gesturing for him to sit down. “And I have a feeling that we could be great friends.”

I have a bad feeling that I could get Mark to do just about anything, and I’m slowly proving that theory when he pulls out the chair and takes a seat in front of me, letting out a grunt. “Fine.”

I break out into a smile, trying to hide it as I take a sip of my coffee, the sweet taste coating my tastebuds. “So… tell me about yourself.”

“This is so fucking stupid,” he mutters, shaking his head, but a second later his hard eyes land on mine. “I’m thirty-four.”

My eyes widen. I knew he was older than me, but hearing how old he actually is catches me off guard. He’s ten years older than me . “Woah.” I wince when he narrows his eyes, and I let out a soft laugh. “Sorry. Continue.”

“I grew up in New York my whole life, and I work in a bar.”

I wait for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, I blink up at him in confusion. “That’s it?”

He lifts his shoulder. “Yeah. ”

“That can’t be it,” I say, widening my eyes. “You’re thirty-four. There has to be more than that. I mean, that’s practically when the dinosaurs were roaming around.”

His dark brown eyes narrow down at me. “Don’t push it, Bambi.”

“C’mon. There’s definitely more that you’re not telling me. How did you get the bar? Did you go to college? What did you study? And what about that girl you dated? I remember you telling me about her.”

Mark grunts. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I guess that’s true, but…” I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “Isn’t that what a date is?” I ask, bringing my cup to my lips.

“I guess,” he says, reaching up to stroke his beard. “Probably why I haven’t been on one in five years.”

I nearly choke on my drink, sputtering and coughing uncontrollably as I manage to choke out, “Five years?”

“Yeah,” he says with furrowed brows as he watches me cough. “I haven’t been interested in dating.”

“Because of your ex?” I ask, finally able to breathe properly.

Mark lets out a hard sigh, tilting his head. “You told me you have a problem with talking, but I don’t think you do. You seem to be doing a lot of it right now, actually.”

My lips pull into a smirk, acknowledging how he’s deflecting the question. He’s so secretive and broody, and for some reason, it makes me want to know more. “I know,” I agree with a nod. “It’s because of you.”

He blinks. “Me? ”

“Yes,” I confirm. “For an inexplicable reason, I can talk to you just fine. But when it comes to anyone else… I freeze.”

His eyes narrow. “Was that a Christmas pun?”

I let out a laugh. It actually wasn’t, but the fact that it bothers him so much makes me question why. “Why do you hate Christmas so much?” I ask, curious to know more about him. I mean, who the hell hates Christmas?

He grunts, leaning back in the chair. “Trust me, Bambi. You don’t want to know. We’d be here all day.”

“I do,” I affirm, placing my drink on the table. “I’m genuinely curious as to why you seem to hate the holiday so much. There has to be a reason.”

He grunts again. “Drink your gingerbread, Bambi.”

“You want to try it?” I ask, holding my drink up to him. “It’s delicious.”

“I’m good,” he says, shooting me a dry look. “I’d rather not risk catching any of your germs.”

My jaw drops in disbelief. “Hey. I don’t have germs.”

He scowls, crossing his arms. “Everyone has germs.”

I huff out a breath. “Well, mine aren’t bad germs.”

Mark glances at me, shaking his head, and I notice the corner of his lips twitching into something kind of resembling an inkling of a smile. But not quite.

I’ll get there. One day, I’ll get Mark to smile for real. “You really are a fascinating creature,” he says.

“Creature?” I gasp, placing my hand on my chest. “I’m a woman.”

“A fascinating woman ,” he corrects, dryly.

“Thanks,” I reply with a grin. “I got it all from my mom. ”

“Yeah?” He takes another sip of my cinnamon drink, his face screwing up a second later. “Is she as crazy about Christmas as you?”

I swallow hard, my smile slipping as I nod. “Yeah,” I say with a strained laugh. “She was.”

“Fuck.” Mark places the coffee on the table, and I look up, seeing his features have softened. “I’m sorry, Holly. I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” I cut him off. “She was an amazing mom, the best I could ever have,” I tell him with a smile, remembering her. “And to answer your question, yes, she loved Christmas, even more than I did.”

He arches a brow, seeming shocked by my answer. “I wouldn’t have thought that was a possibility.”

A laugh bubbles out of me. “No, seriously. It was her favorite holiday. Halloween and Thanksgiving didn’t exist for her. My mom would start decorating the house for Christmas in September. We’d listen to Christmas music in the months leading up to it, and bake cookies, and brownies and every delicious treat there was.” I glance down at my coffee, blinking away the tears building up in my eyes. “She was so fun, and kind,” I say, my throat getting clogged with emotion. “Both of my parents were.”

It’s been so long since my last Christmas with them, and I’m about to spend one more without them. Without anyone.

“Where do you want to start?” Mark asks, making me lift my head to meet his eyes.

“Huh?” I blink up at him .

“With the dating thing,” he clarifies. “What exactly are you looking to get out of this whole thing?”

I lift my shoulders into a small shrug. “I guess I just want someone to share the holidays with. I want someone to cuddle with by the fireplace, to bake cookies with, to open presents with. I want what my mom and dad had. What Henry and Olivia have.”

“Henry and Olivia?” Mark asks, his brows dipping.

“Funnel Cakes and her husband,” I clarify.

“Oh. Right.” He reaches up, running his hand over his beard. “How long has it been since you were last on a date?”

“Well, two days ago—”

“Aside from the asshole who stood you up,” he cuts in, arching a brow.

I didn’t want to admit that I’ve had more failed dates than there have been days that snowed this month, but I guess he can’t help me if he doesn’t know where I stand with the whole dating thing. “A little over a week ago.”

He hums, his eyes examining me. “And how did it go?”

I blink. “Great. We’re happily married, and I’m pregnant.” I tilt my head. “You want to meet my child?”

He squints, not appreciating my humor. “Not great, then?”

I groan, shaking my head. “It was awful. He was so boring and watched game shows—”

“I watch game shows,” Mark interrupts with a hard look.

I blink. Blink again. “You watch game shows?” He shrugs as a response and I place the back of my hand on my forehead. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus.”

“Moving on,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me. “Anything else went wrong, or was it just the fact that he watched game shows?”

I wince at the reminder of that date and let out a sigh. “He flirted with our waitress right in front of me.”

“Okay,” he grunts. “I think I’m starting to see the problem.”

“I just don’t know if the reason all my dates are failing is because there’s something wrong with me, or if I just choose the most awful guys.”

His expression is serious as he meets my eyes. “I think it might be a bit of both.”

My eyebrows knit together. “Hey.”

“We’re going to do a little practice date,” Mark says, taking a quick glance behind my head. “There’s a guy who’s been looking over here for the past ten minutes.”

“What?” I snap my head backward, scanning the coffee shop. “Where?”

“Jesus,” Mark grunts. “You couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried.” I turn back around, seeing him wipe a hand down his face. “He’s by the counter,” Mark continues. “And by the way he’s looking at me, he probably thinks you’re here with me.”

“Well, I’m not,” I say louder than I need to. “I’m definitely not with you.”

“Okay, you don’t need to say it like that,” he says with a glare. “Just get up and go talk to him.”

I blink, the word sounding foreign. “Talk? ”

“Yes,” he says dryly. “Exactly what you’re doing right now.”

“But…” I furrow my brows. “What do I say?”

“Anything,” Mark says with a shrug.

I shake my head. Nope. Not ready for that yet. “Maybe we should practice first.”

“That’s the point,” he says, his brows dipping together in confusion. “This is a practice date.”

“No. You and me,” I clarify, gesturing with a wave of my finger between us both. “Tell me what he’ll say, and then I’ll think of something.”

Mark looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “I don’t know what he’s going to say.”

“Can’t you guess?” I ask him, confused. “Aren’t all guys like… the same?”

“No.”

“Dammit.” I chew on my bottom lip. “What do you think he’s going to say?”

“Hey.”

“Hey?” I repeat, blinking at him. “That’s it?” I let out a groan. “Why are guys so mysterious?”

“We’re actually pretty simple,” he says with a shrug. “He keeps looking over here, so he obviously thinks you’re attractive. Just go up to him, smile, flirt and ask him out for coffee.”

“Okay,” I say warily as I lift myself off the chair and turn around, spotting the guy standing at the counter, whose eyes lock on mine. He’s cute. Looks around my age, or maybe a couple of years older. Clean, fresh haircut, and nice style.

“Hey,” I say when I approach him .

He blinks. “Hi?”

What next? I smile at him. “I um… I’m single.” His brows furrow. “And we’re not—” I point at Mark. “He’s not—” I lift my hand, tapping on my empty ring finger. “See?”

“Um…”

God, this is not going well. “Want to grab a coffee?”

He lifts his cup in the air. “I have coffee.”

“Yeah.” I blow out a breath. “I meant tomorrow or another day, maybe?”

“Uh…” His eyebrows lift a little. “I’m gay.”

“Oh.” I lift my head, realization sinking in. “ Ohhhh .” I wince, embarrassment flooding through me. “So, no coffee?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine,” I say with a nervous laugh, wanting the ground to swallow me up. “No hard feelings.” When I turn around, I see Mark covering his mouth with his hand, shaking his head at me. “You failed me,” I say when I sit back down.

“Jesus,” he grunts. “I totally underestimated how bad you’d be at this.”

“He’s gay, Mark,” I say with a glare. “It’s not exactly my fault. I have nothing he’d like,” I say, gesturing down my body.

He tilts his head. “You showed him your ring finger?”

“I wanted him to know I was single,” I mutter, realizing how dumb that sounds. “Turns how he was looking at you, not me.” I shake my head. “How the hell did you get someone’s attention, and I don’t?”

“My charming personality,” he says dryly .

I lean back into the chair. “Well then maybe I should just become more like you, then.”

“Don’t.” I look up at him, and his hardened eyes lock on mine. “I don’t want you to be like me. I like your… free spirit.”

I blink, a smile curling up my face. Did Mark just compliment me? “I thought you hated my personality.”

“I never said that,” he says with a hint of a glare. “Just because we’re different doesn’t mean I hate it.”

“So you’ll still help me?” I ask, a little bit of the hope I had earlier today gone after that whole interaction. I wouldn’t blame Mark if he wanted to call this whole thing off. I’m probably a lost cause at this point.

“Yeah, Bambi,” he says with a nod. “I’ll still help you. I’ll get you your Christmas boyfriend.”