Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

December 24, 11:10 pm

NESSA

T wo hours and almost two bottles of wine later, the power is still out, and my sides hurt from laughing. The booze—and the company—has left me feeling warm and cozy despite the howling wind outside.

We’re curled up on the couch, a pile of blankets around us and candles flickering on the coffee table. It would be romantic if we weren’t practically strangers. But we’re not strangers. We’re neighbors.

And after trading stories from the holidays of our childhood, I know more random facts about eight and ten-year-old Jack than I know about my actual friends when they were that age. And the more I get to know him, the more my attraction grows. Yes, he’s hot. But he’s also really sweet and smart and funny and?—

“Ground control to Major Tom.”

I blink, and Jack is inches away from my face. It’s crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to lean forward and kiss him. It’s probably the wine talking. I didn’t even know the man three hours ago, plus I have a firm policy against making the first move. I’m still scarred from eighth grade when I totally misinterpreted the signs I thought Jason Blumberg was giving me, when he really wanted to ask out my best friend.

But Jack already said he wasn’t interested in Julie or Amanda.

Not your roommates. Just you.

Jack reaches out and tucks a stray hair behind my ear, and somehow, that simple gesture feels more intimate than a kiss. “Where’d you go?” he asks.

“The North Pole,” I say, resorting to humor like I always do after I make things awkward.

“Ahh,” Jack says. He looks delighted and totally game for playing along the way I imagine he does with his patients. “How was it?”

“Honestly, it wasn’t as cold as I expected—a few degrees warmer than here.”

He shivers, as if being reminded of the cold. “Did you at least see Santa?”

“No, I think he’s delivering presents somewhere over France—BUT I did see Mrs. Claus, and I asked her if you were on the naughty or the nice list.”

Jack’s eyebrows arch. “And what did she say?”

“Surprisingly, she said you were on the nice list. I was sure she’d say naughty….”

My eyes dip down to his lips again, and my mind wanders to all the places I’d like to feel them, pressed against my own lips, my shoulder, my breast…

What has gotten into me? I set my glass of wine down; I must be tipsier than I thought.

Jack must be tipsy, too. He’s giving me what I can only describe as bedroom eyes. “Oh, I’m very nice…”

“Unless you happen to run across a snowman.”

Jack laughs. “If you knew me, you’d know how out of character that was.”

If I knew him? Point taken. I pull my knees against my chest, a reminder to stay on my side of the couch. I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me. We’re two strangers marooned on a couch in the middle of the worst snowstorm to hit Chicago in a century.

I clear my throat. “Well, the good news is that Santa seems to agree—so you won’t be getting coal this year.”

Jack’s face falls, and it’s like someone popped the balloon on our party.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

He sighs. “It’s okay—and it’s not about the actual presents—but like you said, the tradition of it all.”

“The stockings,” I say, remembering what he told me earlier. We may not have lottery tickets, but I have an idea.

I throw the blanket off me, startling Jack. The wood floor is cool on my bare feet as I hurry down the hall toward Amanda’s room. I find just what I’m looking for in her top dresser drawer and quickly hurry back to the living room, dangling one of her compression socks from each hand.

Jack’s expression goes from confused to delighted as I say, “Wanna stuff my stocking?”