Sweet Mistletoe

by Elizabeth Bromke

  Hit me with it, he replied.

  Paisley chewed her lip, thinking about her favorite movie. Totally cheesy. Totally little girl… but then… she was free to be herself as CarolinaGirl. Free to be cheesy and silly. Titanic. Don’t judge!

  He responded right away. It’s a great movie. Probably one of the best romances of the nineties.

  I totally agree. She couldn’t help but gush.

  Two lost souls not looking for anything but finding it anyway. The best kind of love story… if there is one.

  Paisley frowned. “If there is one?”

  What did that mean?

  I’m not a romantic guy, Knox answered.

  But you agree that Titanic is the epitome of romance?

  That or You’ve Got Mail.

  Her eyes bulged. So, you are a romantic guy, she replied playfully. That’s another one of my favorites.

  Same situation. People who aren’t looking for love… but finding it right in front of their faces. Or screens, as the case may be.

  She grinned. And in front of their faces, remember. ;)

  Chewing her lower lip again, she contemplated asking for BeachBum’s name. Or even a photo.

  He replied before she could. I’m in that position, actually.

  A frown tugged at her mouth. What position?

  Not looking for love.

  Paisley snorted. Typical. And yet… why would he choose Mistletoe? Of all the casual dating apps on the market, he went with hers? The one specifically touting deep, long-lasting romance? True love?

  She clicked her phone screen off and set the device down, folding her arms and glaring at the half-wrapped package on the center of her table.

  The phone buzzed to life, its red light blinking in the upper-righthand corner.

  Huffing, she opened it.

  Did I write the wrong thing?

  Paisley laughed aloud. I mean… why are you on this app if you aren’t looking for love? she shot back.

  Just want to be honest here… I need a date for Christmas, you see…

  What Paisley wanted to write was “Join the club.” What she wrote instead was a simple, open-ended question. Something to shake loose this guy’s true intentions. So, that’s all, huh?

  I’m sorta happy with my life. I go to school. I come home, give my dog a good belly scrub, read a book, watch a TV show, and do it all again the next day.

  Why use this app, then? Paisley replied, genuinely curious now. Truth be told, he sounded kind of like her. Work, homelife, repeat.

  I’m not looking for a hook-up, if that’s what you’re asking.

  Paisley wasn’t asking. And she was getting annoyed. Sounds like we wouldn’t make a good match, BeachBum.

  No point in prolonging the inevitable.

  We don’t know that yet…

  She shook her head. I’m not looking for a hook-up either, but I’m looking for… something, at least.

  He didn’t immediately reply. She glanced at her stack of gifts and tubes of giftwrap then back at the phone.

  Still nothing.

  Here she was, talking to a faceless stranger with one of those names that reeked with over-confidence. And her pulse had doubled? She sat staring at her phone screen for what?

  She went back to wrapping.

  Twenty minutes later, he still hadn’t responded.

  So, being the proud woman Paisley was, she un-Mistletoed his profile and scrolled all over again.

  Chapter 8—Knox

  Just as he was about to reply to CarolinaGirl, a phone call came through.

  Shelby.

  He knew if he ignored her, she’d show up to his place, so he answered.

  “Dad can’t climb the ladder.”

  “Why is he trying to climb the ladder?” Knox answered, unreasonably exasperated.

  “We need to put the angel on top of the tree, Knox.”

  “Shelby, you or Bliss can do that. Can’t you?”

  “Bliss isn’t here, and I’m afraid of heights, Knoxy.” Shelby’s sisterly whine wouldn’t change his attitude.

  But he couldn’t let his father climb a ladder up a ridiculously oversized Christmas tree. Bridger wasn’t in good enough condition, and even if his mother were, Knox was taught never to put a delicate female on top of a ladder if he could help it.

  “Be right there,” he sighed into the phone.

  Thoughts of his conversation with CarolinaGirl clung to his head as he drove the short distance down to the beach house and popped inside.

  A half hour later, his parents’ secondary Christmas tree was set for the party, and he was back in his truck, relatively unscathed save for a brief confrontation with his father about who was in better shape—him or Knox.

  He didn’t leave right away, though. Instead, he sat in his truck, opened the dating app, and reread their conversation. There was only one logical response he could muster.

  Okay, CarolinaGirl. You got me. I suppose I am looking for something. With the right person…

  It was a long limb he went out on. In truth, Knox was looking for absolutely nothing. Just a date. Just a way to shake the familial pressure. But something about their verbal volley back and forth… and the way this woman looked in his mind’s eye…

  After sitting for some moments, awaiting CarolinaGirl’s reply, he grew anxious.

  They chugged along earlier. Where was she now?

  He bobbed his knee up and down, wondering if he should guess or if she didn’t want him to guess or if she was even on her phone anymore. Maybe she had an errand to run, too? Or maybe her phone died? Or maybe she thought he left, which was only half true…

  Shaking his head at the ridiculous nerves that swept up his stomach, he simply went on.

  I mean… at least a date. You know?

  Forcing himself to click his phone screen to black, he punched the truck into drive and headed to the marina.

  Beau would know what to do.

  “I have no idea what you should do,” Beau answered, as they stared together at Knox’s messenger. She still hadn’t answered. “But why didn’t you put your real name in there? If you’re looking in Charleston, nobody will know you.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not serious. And anyway—if anyone at school found out it was Mr. Knox Calhoun behind the bland profile, I’d have to put up with sharing my personal life with fifteen-year-olds. No, thank you.”

  “You think people care about your dates?” Beau answered, tying off a boat and wiping his hands on his pants before following Knox back up to the marina office.

  “Well, my family sure does.”

  “Yeah, well, all families do. But trust me, no one else cares.”

  “And obviously, this CarolinaGirl woman doesn’t care either.” Knox waved his phone uselessly, half-tempted to chuck it into the Atlantic Ocean. Instead, he slid it into his jeans pocket.

  “So, move on to the next,” Beau pointed out. “Lots of women on there. What makes her special? You didn’t talk about much.”

  Knox chewed on his lower lip. Nothing made her special. Other than the way she described herself. Of course, she could be lying anyway. About the strawberry-blonde hair—which she detailed in the Miscellaneous section. Maybe she wasn’t slender, either. Maybe she didn’t have green eyes and the porcelain skin he envisioned, and maybe she actually preferred to go out and party instead of lay low at home, like him. Maybe she wasn’t even wrapping Christmas presents that morning. Maybe she wasn’t witty in person, and maybe his ridiculous excitement about the whole setup was nothing more than holiday jitters.

  “This online dating thing is for the birds.” He blew out a sigh and propped his elbows on the ledge of a bookshelf in the marina office. Filled with manuals and reference binders and the distinct smell of fish guts, it was nothing like the ones at his house or in his classroom. The marina was all utilitarian and sea salt stained and damp, and he didn’t want to spend the rest of the day there.

  Then his phone buzzed against his thigh, and he all but had a
heart attack trying to retrieve it.

  “Whoa there, boy.” Beau chuckled then leaned into Knox to read over his shoulder.

  CarolinaGirl had replied.

  Do you happen to teach Great Expectations to your students?

  A topic change. They were regressing.

  “Never read it,” Beau remarked under his breath.

  Knox gave him a look. “I wonder where she’s going with this.”

  He started to tap his own response but felt Beau’s eyes still hovering. He twisted away and hit reply. Yes…

  She answered immediately, I’ve never read it, actually.

  Frowning, he answered, You want to?

  I saw the movie. I can relate to the orphan thing. Just asking because I really like the Miss Havisham character. I wonder if she was similar in the book.

  This was getting deep. Too deep. And a little… odd. He froze, swallowed, then looked up at Beau, who’d moved on to filling out some paper on a clipboard, ultimately as disinterested as he’d claimed to be.

  It was just as well. The fleeting conversation was no big deal. All Knox wanted was a plus-one. Nothing more. Nothing else. And here was this woman, baring her soul. He scratched the back of his neck.

  Knox couldn’t ignore that kind of a revelation. He wasn’t that big of a jerk.

  He vacillated between an earnest reply and something lighter.

  You’re the type to wait for the movie, then?

  He couldn’t help himself. Besides, maybe that’s what CarolinaGirl needed. A little levity. If she really was an orphan. That sort of trauma probably hung around for a while.

  Hey, now. I spill my guts and all you can do is judge my reading habits?

  He grinned, turned, then stepped out of the office, meeting with a chilly gust on the far side of the dock. So, you do read?

  Sure, I read a little. Just not Dickens.

  Ah ha. She knew what she was doing.

  What do you read, then? Wait, let me guess for real this time…

  Go right ahead. Guess. She shot back.

  If you really did lose your parents when you were young, then you want an escape. And if you’re not a serious reader, then maybe something fun. But you have good basic writing skills… so… James Patterson?

  Her answer came after a brief moment. Since when did James Patterson become an escape? She added a “thinking” emoji.

  Touché. He was lost in his own world now, striding aimlessly along the marina, picturing what the woman on the other end of the messages looked like. Sounded like. Felt like.

  I’m about to out myself here… she baited.

  His mind flew along genres, wondering if she were more of a sci-fi gal. A total nerd. He didn’t mind total nerds. Or maybe she read comic books. No judgment there.

  Let me try again, he wrote, Fantasy?

  Nope. Romance. The cheesier the better. Just like my movie tastes.

  He couldn’t help it. His smile spread farther across his face. Not sure romance even counts… he replied.

  That’s okay, she answered, I don’t read to impress anyone. Least of all some lit snob named “BeachBum.”

  His eyebrows shot up his forehead. Making fun of my name?

  Maybe, she replied.

  Why do you read, then? he asked.

  Her answer came with a smiley face. Like you said. To escape.

  And you can do that in romance novels? Escape?

  Three little dots undulated next to her name.

  Speaking of escaping, I have to run some errands.

  So, you’re trying to escape this conversation? he joked.

  At least I’m giving you fair warning instead of disappearing for an hour…

  Now who’s judging? He bristled inwardly, enjoying the back and forth.

  I see. You were judging my preference for romance.

  No, no. I think the genre has great merit, in fact. He wasn’t lying. He didn’t guess Pride and Prejudice for nothing, either.

  Oh, you do, huh? Romance has literary merit?

  What? You think I don’t believe in true love or something? He hesitated before tapping send. There was no logical reason for him to flirt with her other than to score a date. And he wasn’t the sort to lure a woman under false pretenses. He swallowed and deleted the words, one letter at a time.

  Then, in their place, he did the stupidest thing possible.

  Why don’t we continue this conversation Friday night?

  Chapter 9—Paisley

  “Friday is Christmas Eve,” Shelby replied when Paisley called to tell her all the details of her foray into the app.

  But the longer they talked, the more Paisley sensed what could only be described as the beginnings of a spark.

  “I know,” Paisley answered.

  “And it’s my family’s party,” Shelby added. “I mean, listen. Your romantic interests are definitely more important right now, but—”

  “But?” Paisley asked, surprised at Shelby’s lukewarm reception. She’d been Paisley’s biggest champion in hitting the dating world hard that week. And using Mistletoe, too? Where was the excitement?

  “Where does he want to take you?” Shelby asked before adding, “I don’t know, Paisley. I think a Christmas Eve date could be romantic or deadly.”

  Paisley laughed. “Deadly?”

  “Sure. Who wants to go on a first date on Christmas Eve? I’ll tell you who. Someone with no family to speak of. Maybe a psychopath.”

  Flushing, Paisley began to protest and remind Shelby that Paisley herself had no family to speak of. But then she remembered that she hadn’t even shared that with Shelby. Still, she answered, “Well, look at me, Shelby. I’m going to your family’s Christmas party.”

  “Yeah, because we’re close.”

  Hearing that momentarily distracted her from the matter at hand. “Well, thanks, Shelby. I appreciate that, but—”

  “It’s true. We are close. We’re getting closer every day. And you will love my family. And they will love you, Paisley.”

  “So what? I tell this guy no? Beg him to wait until Monday? I mean, who cares if it’s Christmas Eve. Right? Maybe I could even bring him?”

  “Listen, Paisley. Why don’t you meet Mr. Right for lunch before the party? Or breakfast tomorrow morning? That way it’s daylight, and you can enjoy a couple of eggnogs with me, and you won’t wind up a grisly Christmas tragedy.”

  Paisley rolled her eyes. “All right. Fine. I’ll see if he can do it another time.”

  She ended the call with Shelby and returned to her app, rereading his question again, trying to identify some hidden message. A threat. A weirdness.

  But to her, he seemed nice. A little sarcastic, maybe. A little… academic. But Paisley liked that. It meant that, like her, he wasn’t quite as “grounded” and “downhome” as everyone seemed to want her to become to be successful.

  A Christmas Eve date? Won’t you be with family or—

  But as she reviewed her question, something kicked on inside Paisley. An urgency. A need to cling to this opportunity with all her might. And a realization that CarolinaGirl and BeachBum were one and the same, perhaps. At least, what she knew of him. And of herself. She deleted the second part and added instead, Sounds fun. I have to go to a party for a little while, but I’ll be free after that.

  She watched the three little dots her tech team had developed to add romantic suspense.

  They stopped, started, then stopped again.

  Friday night. Christmas Eve. It’s a date.

  A silly grin slipped across her mouth, and she sucked in a breath. Maybe she’d watch Great Expectations again. Or at least A Christmas Carol. Did she have a copy of Pride and Prejudice? Would that be ridiculous?

  What time can I pick you up? he wrote back immediately.

  Stilling herself for a moment before replying, she considered again what Paisley had said. It was still a little odd to have a first date on Christmas Eve. That was true.

  Where are we going? She hated that she was b
eing uptight about it.

  Anyways, she’d be a full thirty minutes away from Charleston. Or more, depending on where the Calhouns lived.

  This might be a little weird… he wrote.

  Her heart froze in her chest. Here it was. Shelby was right. The catch. Headlines flashed in Paisley’s head: Christmas Chaos. Murder in Charleston! and Holiday Horror—Christmas Date Gone Wrong!

  She swallowed and glanced back down at those three unruly dots.

  Unable to stand the suspense, she tried for a joke. What? You’re also worried about going out with the type of person who happens to be free on Christmas Eve?

  The three dots screeched to a halt then started up again.

  :) Something like that…

  She smirked, but he sent a follow-up, and it was even worse than Shelby predicted.

  How would you feel about coming to a Christmas party?

  Chapter 10—Knox

  What started as a quest to find a veritable stand-in quickly turned into a developing… thing.

  The more he and CarolinaGirl chatted online, the more they found they complemented each other. And the more they had in common.

  She was an only child and, yes, in fact—an orphan. He had family to spare.

  She was well-educated in science and math, and he in English and history. Both were readers, even though Knox didn’t understand the world of romance fans.

  And she could keep up with him.

  By Friday afternoon, after nearly non-stop messaging, he realized there was one catch. Something that shouldn’t be a catch, but something he couldn’t shake.

  He still didn’t know what CarolinaGirl looked like.

  Even weirder? He didn’t care.

  Talking to CarolinaGirl was like talking to an old friend. Easy and comfortable. In the span of just two days, he knew almost everything about her, and she knew almost everything about him.

  Their evening plans, however, were still a little ambiguous.

  When he asked if she’d come to a Christmas party with him, she didn’t answer right away.

  That’s when he knew he was on the brink of losing whatever it was they were starting to share.