Her Pretend Christmas Date Read online

  Her Pretend Christmas Date

  Cider Bar Sisters, Book 2.5

  Jackie Lau

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, companies, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Jackie Lau. All Rights Reserved.

  First edition: December 2020

  ISBN: 978-1-989610-15-2

  Editor: Latoya C. Smith, LCS Literary Services

  Cover Design: Flirtation Designs

  Cover photograph: Depositphotos

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Meet Julie & Tom...

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Jackie Lau

  Meet Julie & Tom...

  Although she’s the fun and outgoing one, Julie Tam has always lived in the shadow of her older sister, Charlotte. Now Charlotte has a good career and a great boyfriend whom their parents love, and Julie has neither of those things.

  Her blind date with Tom Yeung is disastrous; however, he’s exactly the sort of guy her parents would like—a methodical, strait-laced pharmacist who even folds his underwear and wears paisley ties. So, she pretends they’re a couple to impress Mom and Dad in their phone conversations. When her mother insists that Julie bring Tom to her hometown for Christmas, Tom, who has no plans for the holidays, agrees.

  But Julie doesn’t know how she’ll tolerate a whole weekend in his company, especially when they have to share a bed and participate in a gingerbread house competition together. The man is irritatingly proper and set in his ways.

  Except after hours of baking and skating and opening presents, she’s starting to find Tom annoyingly attractive and even endearing. And now, she doesn’t want this holiday weekend to end...

  Chapter 1

  Julie Tam’s roommate had one flaw: she was a matchmaker.

  “I just have a feeling you’ll be perfect together!” Bridget Hamilton squealed as they sat on the shabby couch in their apartment, watching reality TV, eating popcorn, and drinking wine.

  Ever since Bridget and Julie had met back in university—more than ten years ago now—Bridget had been trying to find a guy for Julie, and her interest in matchmaking had gotten more intense since she’d met the love of her life two years ago. She wanted Julie to have the same kind of relationship, which was sweet, but...

  “Tell me about him,” Julie said, rolling her eyes.

  Bridget shoved Julie’s knee and reached for more popcorn. “Don’t be like that. He’s great, I promise. His name is Tom Yeung, and he’s an acquaintance of Wayne’s. He’s a pharmacist—”

  “Oh, hell no.”

  “Why not?”

  “He already sounds like the sort of man my parents want me to marry, which means I won’t like him.”

  “Please.” Bridget clasped her hands together. “Just one date. I swear, I have a really good feeling about you two.”

  “You also had a good feeling about Unicycle Taylor.”

  The unicycle hadn’t been the problem. Actually, Julie had thought that was kind of cool. The problems with Taylor had begun when he was a jerk to the waiter, and the evening had gone downhill from there.

  That was seven years ago now. Bridget had sent Julie on many blind dates since then—a few every year—and none had been quite as bad, but Julie still brought up Unicycle Taylor.

  “Trust me,” Bridget said. “He’s nothing like Taylor.”

  And indeed, he wasn’t.

  That Sunday, Julie had her first date with Tom. They’d texted a few times to arrange the date, and at least he hadn’t shown himself to be an ass in the text messages. Julie had suggested dinner at a taco joint in Kensington Market that she wanted to try. Her sister, Charlotte, said it was excellent, and Julie had heard good things from other people, too.

  Julie entered the restaurant right on time. It was a little loud, but not so loud that she wouldn’t be able to have a conversation with her date. Her heart was thumping a bit quickly, even though she was definitely not excited. She’d been on enough blind dates that she knew better than to expect The One. Maybe her heart was thumping quickly because she was worried it might be a terrible night.

  That seemed more likely.

  She hadn’t seen a picture of Tom beforehand, but it wasn’t difficult to spot the East Asian guy sitting alone at a table.

  Wearing a goddamn tie.

  What kind of thirty-two-year-old man wore a tie on a date at a casual restaurant?

  In addition to the tie, he wore a collared white shirt and a brown sweater that would be better suited to an old man. He was studying the menu with the concentration Julie’s parents wished she’d had for Chinese lessons back when she was a kid.

  Yes, Tom was far too serious for her. That was already clear.

  But she was doing this for Bridget. Because matchmaking was literally Bridget’s only flaw, and she was an excellent friend otherwise. They hung out all the time, and Bridget had listened to Julie’s rants about how she didn’t know where she was going in life. Bridget had also looked after Julie last month when she’d gotten drunk on soju.

  “Hi,” Julie said as she approached the table. “You must be Tom. I’m Julie.” She extended her hand.

  Tom had been frowning at the menu, and he continued to frown as he looked up at her.

  Apparently, he’d already found her lacking.

  He wasn’t unattractive. She could admit that much. He had short black hair, which was neat—of course it was neat—and there was nothing wrong with his features, although his lips were rather thin and severe.

  She didn’t feel butterflies. Only mild irritation.

  Why the fuck was he already frowning?

  He seemed to realize what he was doing and changed his expression to a small smile before shaking her hand. “Hi, Julie.”

  The rumble of his voice was nice, and his hand was warm. Hers were cold from the walk in the chilly November air.

  She didn’t let her hand linger in his, though.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, even though she didn’t quite feel that way.

  “Likewise.”

  She picked up her menu. “What looks good?”

  Before Tom could answer, the waitress came around. Julie ordered a margarita, and Tom ordered a glass of the house red. He probably thought margaritas were too wild.

  She studied the menu. “Would you like to split the street corn as an appetizer?”

  He frowned again.

  He was getting on her nerves. Couldn’t he at least try to have a pleasant meal with her?

  “Oh, please,” she said. “Are you going to tell me you don’t like corn on the cob? Are you afraid it’ll mess up your paisley tie?”

  Yep, now that she was closer, she could see his tie was paisley. Totally not her thing.

  “I don’t like how corn on the cob gets stuck in my teeth,” he said.

  He was probably also obsessive about oral hygiene and would be horrified to learn she’d had a few cavities.

  “And it has mayo. I don’t like mayo,” he continued.

  Oh, dear.

  Nope, they definitely weren’t compatible.

  Julie lived for mayo. Mayo was freaking delicious.

  Well, whate
ver. She really wanted the street corn, so she’d eat both cobs herself, then have two tacos instead of three.

  “What are you getting?” she asked.

  “The carne asada bowl,” he said.

  “This place is famous for its tacos, you know.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “But you don’t like tacos?”

  “They’re too messy.”

  “I know hard-shell tacos are messy, but that’s not what they serve here.”

  “They’re still messy,” he said. “Difficult to eat. I hate when the filling falls out.”

  “You don’t like corn on the cob, you don’t like mayo, you don’t like tacos. What do you like, Tom Yeung? Brown rice, baked chicken breast, and steamed broccoli? Folding your underwear?”

  “I wouldn’t say I like folding my underwear—”

  “But you do fold your underwear?”

  He sipped his water and didn’t deign to respond. “There’s nothing wrong with having a few foods you don’t like and being a little picky.”

  Very true. It was just that those foods were things she considered, well, fun.

  Their drinks arrived, and the waitress took their orders. Tom had changed his mind about the carne asada bowl and ordered tacos instead. At least he was polite to the waitress—that was one thing she could say in his favor.

  When the waitress left, an uncomfortable silence descended on the table. Tom sipped his wine, and Julie licked the salt off the rim of her margarita. She could feel him judging her, and she half expected a lecture on the dangers of too much salt.

  “So, uh, tell me about yourself,” she said. They had to pass the time somehow, even though she was already sure they weren’t compatible.

  He scratched the back of his neck. “I was born in Hong Kong...”

  So, this guy was starting with his birth. Great.

  “I have no siblings,” he said. “We moved to Canada when I was six.”

  She suspected his Cantonese was better than hers.

  She wished her language skills weren’t so poor, but she hadn’t been the most attentive pupil. Rather than Saturday morning Chinese school—not available in her hometown of Ashton Corners or anywhere nearby—Julie’s parents had given her lessons themselves on the weekends, which she’d been less than thrilled about as a child. She bet Tom hadn’t caused his parents so much grief.

  “I hear you’re a pharmacist,” she said.

  “Yes, at a hospital.”

  “Did you always want to be one?”

  He shrugged. “I had a few career ideas over the years.”

  “Nothing as crazy as stunt performer or rock star, I bet.”

  His lips twitched. “No. I wanted a degree that directly led to a career.”

  Of course he did. His other career ideas had probably been engineer and doctor, exactly as his mom and dad wished. She was certain he’d been a good student.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “I studied history in university. Now I waitress at a cider bar and make jewelry.” She held up the necklace she was wearing.

  “You made that?”

  Did he sound mildly impressed? Mildly horrified? She couldn’t tell.

  “Where do you live?” he asked. “Near here?”

  “No, my roommate and I have an apartment in the west end.”

  “It sounds...chaotic.”

  “What? Having a roommate? Multiple jobs? Eating corn on the cob and tacos?”

  At that moment, her corn arrived. She reached for a cob and took a big bite, one with lots of mayo.

  “All of it,” he finally answered.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my life, even if it’s not prestigious enough for you. I get enough of that from my parents, thank you.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “I can hear it in your tone.”

  “Well, don’t tell me you’re not judging me.”

  “Who on earth wears a tie on a date like this? Did you come straight from work?”

  “No. What’s wrong with a tie?”

  “It’s a casual date,” she said. “And your tie is fucking paisley, not something fun like martini glasses or Santas—”

  “It’s not December yet.”

  “—or even stripes.”

  “What’s fun about stripes?”

  “Nothing, but they’re better than fucking paisley.” She swore again, just to piss him off, then took an angry bite of her corn. Yes, Bridget would owe her for this. How had her roommate had a “feeling” about the two of them?

  The waitress brought over the tacos as Julie was finishing her second cob of corn. There were kernels stuck in her teeth, but she didn’t care. It had been worth it.

  Tom looked at his tacos in bafflement. At last, he picked one up and had a bite. A single piece of pineapple fell out of his taco al pastor, and he glared at it.

  “Before this date,” he said, “I read all about how to eat tacos without making a mess.”

  She couldn’t help her chuckle. “And you weren’t satisfied by the results, so that’s why you’d planned to order the carne asada bowl?”

  “A lot of the advice was contradictory.”

  “What’s the problem with a little mess?” she asked, knowing full well that mess was everything he despised in life, and he probably thought she was more than a bit of a mess. Which might be true, but still.

  She grabbed the pineapple that had dared to escape his taco and stuck it in her mouth.

  “That was my pineapple,” he said.

  “I was cleaning up the mess. You should be thanking me.”

  “Thank you,” he said sarcastically.

  “That didn’t sound sincere.”

  “Can we agree this date isn’t working?”

  “Finally,” she said, “we agree on something.”

  Still, she couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit hurt that she didn’t seem to be good enough for Tom.

  The waitress came by and asked how everything was. Tom said it was good, even if he’d been glaring at his taco two seconds earlier. Julie asked for another margarita—she definitely needed more alcohol to get through this dinner—and when the waitress placed the drink in front of her, she made a show of licking all the salt off the rim to bug her date.

  Indeed, he stared at her, probably in utter horror.

  Or maybe he’s thinking about you putting your tongue on him...

  Where had that thought come from? It wasn’t like she was attracted to Tom Yeung.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then he took off his sweater. On some men, this might have been sexy, but it simply revealed his crisp white shirt and the full extent of the paisley tie.

  “You’re warm?” Julie asked. She found the restaurant rather cold.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  There was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.

  Was he nervous? Angry he was on a date with someone who worked as a waitress at a cider bar?

  She picked up her fish taco. The tacos really were good, and she closed her eyes, the better to savor it. It wasn’t like she needed to look at her companion.

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

  Julie’s eyes flew open at the high-pitched words. A server had accidentally dumped two tacos on Tom’s shoulder, and his pristine white shirt was no longer pristine.

  Tom managed a smile and assured the waitress it was okay, no big deal, accidents happened, etc. The waitress seemed quite taken with his soiled white shirt and severe features. She leaned closer and attempted to help him clean up with a napkin.

  Julie felt like she was intruding on someone else’s meet-cute.

  Dammit, she was the one on a date with Tom! Not that she had any interest in seeing him again, but it would have been nice had he actually smiled at her like this and made an effort.

  After fussing over Tom for far too long, the server left, and Tom excused himself to go to the washroom.

  While he was gone, Julie enjoyed her fish taco and margarita in pe
ace. She was nearly finished her food when Tom returned, putting something in his pocket as he sat down.

  Was that a stain remover pen?

  She looked at his shoulder and saw that yes, the stain was barely visible. Perhaps it was smart to carry a stain remover pen—

  No. It was freaking ridiculous on a first date.

  Fortunately for him, the tacos seemed to have missed his tie.

  “Do you hate tacos even more now?” Julie asked.

  “That incident had nothing to do with tacos. Probably better than tomato sauce.”

  Right. Whatever.

  When they were done eating, Tom politely asked if she’d like dessert. The tres leches cake was tempting, but Julie declined. She wanted to get this date over with. She’d enjoy some kind of dessert at home, while she told Bridget just how terrible of a matchmaker she was.

  Tom offered to pay, and she offered to split, but when he said again that he would pay, she didn’t fight it. He could damn well pay for this horrible date. Besides, the restaurant had comped their drinks, so it wasn’t very expensive.

  “I’ll walk you to the subway station?” he said.

  They barely spoke on the walk, though at one point, out of boredom, she asked, “What do you like to do for fun?”

  Not that she could imagine Tom having fun.

  “I enjoy reading,” he said.

  “What about TV? You watch any shows?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I like Project Runway and The Great British Sewing Bee. Plus The Big Flower Fight.”

  “I see.”

  “My roommate and I also watch The Bachelor, and sometimes we binge shows like Too Hot to Handle.”

  As expected, he looked appalled.

  But who cared? She was never going to see this guy again.

  Nope, when they said their good-byes at the subway station, they didn’t even pretend they’d had a nice time.

  * * *

  Tom tried to date the way he did everything else in life.

  Methodically and efficiently.

  Thus, speed dating had appealed to him, but his two attempts hadn’t gone well.

  A blind date, set up by someone he barely knew, wasn’t something he’d usually do, but he’d agreed anyway. He hadn’t been on a date in over a year, and he did want to get married one day. It was on his checklist.