Merry Little Hate Notes

Chapter Nineteen

HOLLY

NOTE TO SELF: DO NOT make bets on a mini golf game with a man who has had his own set of golf clubs since the age of two. What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking. That was my problem. You try being cozied up with Brandon in his car—it makes all reason go out the window. I was supposed to be taking it slow and seeing if our grown-up versions liked each other. Oh, it was apparent we did. When he’d kissed my hand, I seriously wanted to kiss him until my foot popped three times. How sweet was that? But I knew he needed to redeliver his TED Talk before that happened. What kind of woman would I be if I kissed him when he believed I thought he’d stolen my first kiss on a dare?

He was supposed to be changing my mind about him. That takes time. Right? It’s what I kept telling myself, even as I shamelessly said these next words, “Do you think you can help me with this putt?” Oh. My. Gosh. Who had I turned into? I was becoming one of those walking romance tropes Carmen had told me about. Granted, I was going to lose the game and the bet, so I figured I might as well try to learn a few things from Brandon. It wasn’t because I wanted him to wrap his arms around me and whisper instructions into my ear. Okay, it’s totally what I wanted. I’d dreamed about a moment like this since I was a teenager. Obviously he had too, so in the end I was doing this as much for him as I was for myself.

Brandon smirked that cocky smirk he’d been giving me for the last seven holes and leaned his golf club against a tree before swaggering over in his fit-me-right jeans and wool coat with a standing collar that made him look oh so fine. “I’d be glad to,” he said, sounding as masculine as possible as he crossed over a small bridge with an arch of blinking Christmas lights. Oh, there was no doubt he was all man, and I was falling for it. Hard. I mean, he braved Costco on a Friday night and bought a Costco membership, all for me. That’s about as close to true love as you get.

“I just don’t want my ball to go into another snow pit.” It was this course’s version of a sand pit. I’d already learned the hard way that trying to hit a golf ball out of the snow was a losing endeavor. Not only does it camouflage the ball, but when you keep whacking the snow, icy shards assault your face and you splutter like a fool. It’s not an attractive look, although it was entertaining, judging by how hard Brandon had laughed.

“Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.” Brandon wrapped his arms around me from behind without even a thought.

Did I sink against him? Oh yes, I did. I would scold myself later. Or maybe not.

“You’re warm,” I said like a breathy teen girl. Yikes, I was shameless.

Brandon tightened his hold on me. “You should have told me you were cold.”

“I didn’t want to show any weakness and give you an edge.”

“I don’t need one,” he whispered in my ear.

That made me feel toasty, even if he was arrogant. “Yes, I bow down to your mini golf skills.”

He chuckled. “I can’t wait to hear you serenade our coworkers on Monday.”

I cringed. Soon there would be a new topic of gossip in the bathroom—me. The only thing that could save me from this fate was if Rita burned down Amy’s house over the weekend. It was a possibility. So much so, I was keeping my eye on the news. “Is it really necessary? Haven’t you humiliated me enough tonight?” I begged for mercy.

“A bet is a bet.” He wouldn’t let me off the hook .

“Fine,” I whined. Hopefully I’d quit soon anyway. Wait ... did I want to quit now? My motivation before had been to avoid seeing Brandon, but that obviously wasn’t the case any longer. However, there were the matters of working a job that wasn’t satisfying and not knowing what I really wanted to do with my life. The problem was, my original dream had died a terrible death when I was seventeen years old, and I wasn’t sure if I could ever resurrect it. It would probably require a lot of therapy, student loans, and contact with my mother. Not sure I was brave enough for the latter or even what I would say to her—assuming she wished to speak to me.

Brandon shook me out of my thoughts when his hands slid down the sleeves of my coat and over my hands that carelessly gripped the golf club. Even through my gloves, I could feel the touch of his strong hands. “Your grip and stance are all wrong.” His warm breath cascaded down my neck, making me shiver.

Honestly, I didn’t even register what he said next because the way his rough stubble grazed my cheeks consumed my mind. All I knew was he’d helped me swing my golf club and the ball rolled perfectly across the bridge like it was taking a casual stroll to its destination, which happened to be a gaping Santa Claus mouth—yes, it was just as disturbing as it sounds. More disturbing was my ball landing tauntingly close to Santa’s mouth without actually going in.

“Now that’s how it’s done.” Brandon held on to me for a second more before reluctantly letting go. There were some teenagers behind us waiting to play the hole.

“Thank you,” I said, as if in a daze. Probably because I was.

“My pleasure.” Brandon took my hand and led the way back across the lighted bridge so I could hopefully tap the ball into Santa’s mouth. Odds weren’t in my favor, considering earlier in the game I’d gone eight over par on one of the easiest holes. Not that it mattered—seeing as this was a nine-hole course, I’d never make up for it.

“Maybe I should have snuck out with you and Christian when you used to play golf in the middle of the night,” I commented.

“I don’t know about that. We were pretty idiotic. How we never got arrested, I’ll never know.”

“I used to wonder the same thing. ”

Brandon swiped his golf club on our way to my ball. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to give you private golf lessons.”

Ooh, I liked the sound of private. “Maybe when it warms up, assuming you’re in town visiting.” At that moment, I realized how sad I was going to be when he left after the holidays.

He stopped and let out a huge plume of breath that formed white, wispy clouds in the cold air. “My dad has asked me to consider working out of the main office permanently.”

“Oh. What do you think?” What did I think? Of course, right now I wanted him to stay. I needed him to say all the things he said to me in Aspen, this time when he knew I was conscious. Regardless, this was a big deal. If he stayed and things didn’t work out, I’d be back to avoiding him and my gynecologist. Not like I hadn’t been doing it for years. But running and hiding were exhausting, and I was tired of that life. Also, it would be difficult to know if we could make a go of this if he didn’t stay.

“I’m thinking it’s about time for me to move back.”

My heart did a little happy dance.

Brandon squeezed my hand. “What do you think, Holly?”

“Um ...” This was big. I wasn’t sure what to say. “I don’t want you to do this for me.” That was a lot of pressure.

He tugged me closer to him. “Why? Staying away from you for all these years is one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made.”

That was the best thing he could have said. I gazed into his sincere eyes that were begging me to tell him it was okay for him to come home. A lump formed in my throat, realizing how much we both needed to come home. “Well ... it might be hard for you to change my mind about you from North Carolina.” I hoped that came across as Please come home. Apparently “moving slow” had gone right out the window. It’s hard to go slow when you feel for the first time in a long time that you belong and not just with someone.

Brandon smiled toothily, proving that the orthodontist we’d all gone to growing up knew what he was doing. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Okay,” I tittered. “That’s good. So, you’re staying?”

“Yes,” he said with determination .

“Wow.” I didn’t know what else to say. This was getting real.

“Yeah, wow.” Brandon sounded as stunned as me.

Almost as stunned as I was when I easily tapped the ball right into Santa’s mouth. We seemed so overwhelmed, we barely said anything as we played the last hole. We didn’t even discuss how our golf balls appeared to be swallowed whole by an angry polar bear. The teeth on the thing looked real. Not sure how that was supposed to be festive. But Brandon deciding to move back to Colorado felt very Christmassy, even if it scared me. I couldn’t wait to see what the charts had to say about it tonight. Although after Brandon had left the night before, I’d slept a lot better than I normally did.

“Are you ready to pick out a tree?” Brandon asked as we exited and turned in our golf clubs.

I nodded.

He draped his arm around my shoulders. “I know this is a big step for both of us.”

I felt like lots of big steps were in front of me. “It is, but I’m glad you’re here to take it with me.” Did that sound like, Oh, baby, take me now ? Or maybe, Now would be a good time for you to repeat your TED Talk ?

“Me too.” He kissed the side of my head. “So, what kind of tree do we get?”

“Uh, a Fraser fir.” It was the only acceptable option.

Brandon laughed. “How could I forget your obsession with them?”

“I wasn’t obsessed. It’s just that they’re the perfect choice. Not only do they have sturdy branches, but their needle retention is superb. And they’re gorgeous.”

“Let’s go find you a Fraser fir, then. Your dad has the tree stand and your old boxes of ornaments all ready to go.”

I stopped in my tracks on the small path lined with lighted candy canes leading to the Christmas tree lot. “He does?” I hadn’t even known Dad had kept our old ornaments.

“I called him earlier and let him know when we would most likely make it back to your place. He really wants to give you back your Christmas. I want that for you too. ”

My eyes watered, feeling so overcome by emotion. It had been a long time since my father had tried to take care of me. And the thought that Brandon and he were doing it together made me feel extra emotional. I loved that Brandon would even think to call my dad. After the way they’d conversed for hours the night before, I knew it meant the world to my father. This morning, before Dad left for work, he talked about writing a new book. I wasn’t sure if any publisher would touch him now, but I never thought Brandon Cassidy would fall in love with me, so what did I know? Regardless of whether Dad ever got published again, to see the fire back in his eyes was a Christmas miracle to me.

I embraced Brandon, feeling his warmth envelop me. As I nestled closer, I could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and his familiar scent, a mix of cologne and comfort, engulfed me. He reciprocated the hug, encircling me in his strong arms. The thought that kept coming to me: It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.