No Angels (Willow Creek Christmas)

Prologue

Bianca

Our moms have been best friends since the second grade.

He’s been pulling my braids and annoying me since we were in the second grade.

He’s the one that dared me to ride my bike down Sanderson Hill when I was ten.

I broke my arm.

He’s the one that dared me to go in the creepy, abandoned house on the edge of town when we were thirteen.

I got locked in the cellar.

Today we both exited left off that stage and said hello to being adults.

Now we’re standing in the middle of a hayfield beneath the glow of the full moon and he’s daring me to kiss him. I have good reason to be scared of what will happen if I do.

But there’s a reason he dares me and there’s a reason I take every single dare to heart.

“Come on, Bumble Bee. What are you afraid of?”

He’s using the nickname he gave me when we were seven. “I’m not afraid of anything. But you know I’m leaving, so why now?”

He cups my cheek in his hand and I when I look in his eyes, I can see the boy he was and the man he’s becoming.

“Maybe I’m hoping my kiss will convince you to stay in Willow Creek instead of chasing the bright lights and the big city.”

“Mike, you’re my best friend. You’ve been my best friend my entire life. Even if every time you dare me it ends in disaster. If you wanted to be more than friends, why haven’t you said something before now?”

Has he always felt this way? Why didn’t he ask me to prom? Or homecoming? Why didn’t he give the bouquet of wildflowers Angela Jenkins tossed in his face to me instead?

“I thought if I didn’t say anything, I could pretend this would never happen. That you wouldn’t leave.”

“This is my dream. It’s been my dream since I was Little Bo Peep in the spring recital when we were eight.”

“Maybe I can come with you.”

“Your family needs you here. And my mom needs somebody. She can’t run her farm or the feed store all by herself. I’m counting on you to be my eyes and my ears. And you have a lacrosse scholarship. You can’t leave all that behind to follow me. Especially when I might end up nothing more than a starving artist.” I punch him in the stomach and my fist bounces off. “I’ve seen how much food you eat in one sitting.”

“I still want to kiss you. Even if it’s the first and last time.”

“Fine. Do your worst, Callihan.”

The soft contours of his lips are a revelation.

Why didn’t I ask him for my first kiss when he carried me home from my bike accident or rescued me from the haunted house?

Without breaking the kiss, he tangles our fingers together and starts backing up. He leans against a stack of haybales and pulls me closer.

I drank almost an entire bottle of Boone’s Farm and I can feel it fizzing all over my body. It’s the first taste of wine I’ve ever had, and I figured I should celebrate both my graduation and the beginning of the new chapter I’m about to start.

His thumbs are callused because he’s the lead snare in the marching band, and he skates them over the vertebra at the edge of my jeans. I feel the rough stroke over that tiny space of skin. A space that should be too small to leash the echo of his touch and transmute it like a lightning bolt to every single one of my nerve endings.

I place my hands against his chest and gently shove. I need to catch my breath and set the record straight about where he thinks this kiss is going.

“Callihan, I need a minute.”

He lifts his head. “Take a minute, Cassidy. But that’s all I’m letting you have. I need to store up memories so I won’t miss you as much when you go.”

Mike Callihan is the kind of guy who doesn’t let on how he feels. I’m always teasing him about his poker face, and he’s beaten me at every single high stakes card game we’ve played. If I was so essential to him, why didn’t he tell me sooner?

“Mike, I never suspected you felt this way. It’s too fast and too unexpected.”

“It’s just a kiss, Cassidy, not a marriage proposal.”

“I know,” I grumble into the tiny space between us as he drops his head again. Why didn’t he tell me sooner? Would it have affected my decision to leave?

Something in my tone must be a red flag, because he tilts my face up and scrutinizes my expression. “That’s not something you want, right?”

I shake my head. “Nope, just wish you’d kissed me sooner.”

“I always thought you wanted to be nothing more than friends. It’s funny,” he says as he slides the pads of his fingers down the line of my throat. “We told each other every secret but the one that would have changed everything the most.”

“You wish you’d kissed me sooner?”

“Hell, yeah,” he mutters as he drops his mouth to mine again.

It’s a long time before we come up for air.