Her Pretend Christmas Date Read online

  Okay, she looked cute. Her cheeks were flushed, either from the cold or because she’d been running. Or both.

  He decided to forgive her tardiness. After all, she was only six minutes late.

  It wasn’t long before they were on the Gardiner, heading out of the city. Tom was driving, of course—he wouldn’t dare let anyone else drive his car. Besides, he’d always preferred being the driver over being a passenger. He sometimes got nauseous when he wasn’t driving.

  Though he might get nauseous from the cacophony.

  He wasn’t used to being in the car with other people. Julie and Mike were both pretty talkative, plus Julie kept shooting him weird looks. She was sitting beside him, and even with his gaze straight ahead, he could feel her eyes on him. He suspected she was unhappy with his red paisley tie.

  When getting dressed this morning, he’d felt the perverse urge to get under her skin—most unlike him—and so he’d gone for the paisley tie.

  “How did you two meet?” Mike asked.

  Indeed. How did Tom and Julie meet? This had not been included in the long list she’d sent him the other day.

  “My roommate Bridget set us up,” Julie said. “She met Tom through her boyfriend and figured he’d be perfect for me.”

  “Given you’re complete opposites,” Charlotte said, “what made her think that?”

  “Like you’re one to talk. You and Mike are very different, too.”

  “True. But be honest, Julie. Tom is nothing like your previous boyfriends. In fact, he’s suspiciously similar to the kind of guy Mom and Dad would want you to date—and such men usually have you running for the hills. Remember when Mom tried to set you up with her friend’s son—”

  “Funny story,” Julie said. “My first date with Tom actually didn’t go well.”

  He was interested to hear where she’d go with this.

  “We went to the taco place you like in Kensington Market,” Julie continued. “He wore a tie, and he refused to get street corn with me because it had mayo and he hates mayo. He was also reluctant to order tacos because they’re too messy, and he was perturbed when I licked the salty rim of my margarita.”

  Well, of course. It was a lot of salt. Besides, he’d been captivated by the sight of her tongue, not that he would ever admit it.

  Interesting that she seemed to be sticking with the true story of their date.

  “He also brought a stain remover pen,” Julie went on.

  “It came in handy,” Tom said.

  “Did Julie throw salsa all over you?” Charlotte asked.

  “Alas, no,” Julie said. “A waitress dropped tacos on him. And then I refused dessert because I wanted the date to be over. Afterward, when we were outside the restaurant, I said we weren’t compatible and shouldn’t do this again, but he disagreed.”

  Okay, so this was where her tale differed from reality.

  “He thanked me for getting him out of his comfort zone,” Julie said.

  Sure he did.

  “And then he kissed me.”

  Oh, did he now?

  “So he wasn’t too stuck-up after all?” Charlotte asked.

  “Apparently not.”

  Tom glanced at Julie. Her cheeks were pink.

  What, exactly, was her ideal kiss? Would he have slipped his fingers under that koala hat and into her hair? Would he have pressed her against the wall?

  Would they have spent the night together?

  The other three occupants of the car kept talking, but Tom’s mind stayed on that date and how the end of the evening might have gone differently.

  * * *

  “Ah, Tom! So nice to meet you. I’m Bonnie and this is Albert, my husband.” Mom pumped Tom’s hand enthusiastically after he took off his shoes. “You are so festive!” She gestured to his green sweater and red tie.

  Julie reached for Tom’s hand. When he shook her off, she nearly hissed in his ear.

  We’re supposed to be a couple. Hold my hand, dammit!

  But then she realized he was picking up the bottle of wine and Santa Claus tin from one of the bags he’d brought inside.

  “This is for you, Bonnie,” he said. “Thank you very much for having me for Christmas.”

  Mom regarded the bottle of wine. “How much was this?”

  “Mom!” Julie said. “It’s a gift. It’s impolite to ask. Look at what’s in the tin.” She was also curious to know what was in there. Tom hadn’t mentioned it.

  “Fudge!” Mom popped a piece in her mouth. “Where did you buy it?”

  “I made it,” Tom said.

  Julie gave him a look. She’d have thought Tom would be against something as frivolous as fudge.

  “There are cookies underneath,” he said.

  Cookies and fudge. Julie hadn’t pegged Tom as a baker. She wondered if he wore an apron while he baked, or if he’d just have his stain remover pen handy.

  “What’s so funny?” Mom asked.

  “Nothing.” Julie put her hand on Tom’s arm and steered him toward the collection of slippers. Then she led him to the Christmas tree, where she started pulling presents out of the bag she’d brought. Tom set a bunch next to hers, and she shot him a look. The wine, cookies, and fudge had been sufficient.

  At least one of those presents must be for her. She wondered if he’d listened to Bridget’s suggestions, or if he’d bought her a paisley tablecloth or something equally hideous.

  Charlotte and Mike were also putting out presents. Mom and Dad walked into the room a moment later.

  “Tea or coffee?” Dad asked Tom.

  “Tea, please,” he said. “Your Christmas tree is beautiful.”

  Dad spent the next ten minutes telling Tom about all the stores he’d visited to get the best Christmas tree for the cheapest price, and all the comparison shopping he’d done for Christmas tree stands.

  Yes, they had a real Christmas tree this year, to Julie’s surprise. She figured it had something to do with her parents’ excitement over both of their daughters bringing home appropriate boyfriends for once. Usually they put up an old artificial tree, the same one they’d had since she was a child. It certainly didn’t smell this nice.

  “I’ll have coffee,” Charlotte said.

  “We all know you will have coffee,” Mom said. “No need to tell me. Mike?”

  He looked at his watch. “I’ll have coffee, too.”

  “As will I,” Julie said.

  After she finished putting out presents, they went to the kitchen for tea, coffee, and treats.

  So. Many. Treats.

  Tom’s fudge and cookies were, at most, ten percent of what Julie’s mother had baked. She’d really gone all out this year. There were shortbread cookies and gingerbread men and iced sugar cookies and truffles.

  Tom was polite throughout it all. He answered every question and gave the occasional compliment. He listened to her parents rant about the weather, the price of gas, and the Christmas decorations on Main Street.

  Unlike their first date, she could find no fault with his behavior.

  Except that he wasn’t quite playing the role of adoring boyfriend. He occasionally looked at her and shot her the briefest of smiles, but that was it.

  The only reason it mattered was because she needed her family to buy her act. Her parents were eating it all up, but she wasn’t sure about Charlotte.

  But otherwise, dinner went well. Mahjong went well.

  And then it was time for bed.

  “Did you set up the futon in your study, Dad?” Julie asked.

  “Why would he do that?” Mom asked. “You are a grown-up.”

  “I’ve been an adult for a while, you know.”

  “But now you are thirty. You can share a room with your boyfriend, I don’t mind.”

  Julie’s mother had said this before, but Julie had believed the rule would only apply to Charlotte, not her.

  Well, this would be interesting.

  * * *

  When Tom learned he and Julie would be shari
ng a bed, he’d envisioned a queen, or at least a double. Not ideal, but workable.

  But when he and Julie headed upstairs and she turned on the light, he was speechless.

  Not only was there just one bed, but it was a twin bed.

  “We’re supposed to share th-that?” he stammered.

  “Yes,” she hissed. “I thought they’d want you to sleep on the futon, but I guess they love you so much that they’re allowing us to stay in the same room.”

  “I’m not sharing that bed with you,” he hissed back. Hopefully their voices were quiet enough that no one could overhear.

  “Have you never shared a bed with a woman before?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “Did she dare to take more than her share of the blankets?” Julie stepped closer to him. “Press up against you in the night? Breathe a little too loudly?”

  His hand was suddenly reaching toward her.

  He shoved it back to his side. “I’m happy to share a bed with a woman—”

  “It doesn’t cause too much chaos in your life?”

  “—if, first of all, it’s bigger than a twin. And, second of all, we’re having sexual relations. Not necessarily that night, but in general—”

  “God, do you hear yourself? ‘Sexual relations’? Really?”

  He ignored this. “But there’s no way for a guy my size to share a twin bed without being in physical contact with the other person, and it’s difficult for me to sleep in that situation. That’s all.”

  She blew out a breath. “Fine. You’re right.”

  “Then why did you give me such a hard time?”

  She shrugged. “I can’t seem to help it.”

  “So, I’ll sleep on the futon?”

  “No! That’ll make everyone suspicious. We have to act like a couple, and if we were a couple, we wouldn’t have a problem with sharing a room.”

  “But they don’t think we’ve been together for long,” he said. “I can sleep out there and say I’m, uh—”

  “Respecting my virtue? It’s the twenty-first century, Tom.”

  “I’m not the one who used that phrase. You did.”

  “Nobody will buy it. Certainly not my sister. They know me.”

  He raised his eyebrows. The room was very, very quiet, and he was acutely aware of her, even though she was farther away than she would be if they shared a bed.

  He swallowed. “Um.”

  “Are you judging me?”

  “No, I just...” This whole conversation was making him flustered. He couldn’t think when she was so close to him. When it was just the two of them.

  They’d never been alone like this before.

  “It’s fine,” he said at last. “You’re fine.”

  She stepped back, and he felt like he could breathe again. She seemed to calm down, too.

  “I’ll get my old sleeping bag from the closet,” she said. “One of us can sleep on the floor.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” He pulled a pair of flannel plaid pajamas out of his suitcase. “I’m going to have a shower.”

  “Wow, you really do fold your underwear,” she murmured, peeking into his suitcase.

  “Why wouldn’t you? It’s only sensible.”

  “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m not the sensible one in this family.”

  Now he was wondering what not-so-sensible underwear she had in her suitcase. What would she think about the fact that all of his clothing was carefully organized by color at home?

  When he got back from his shower, Julie had changed into her pajamas, which had little snowflakes on them, and he nearly said they were cute.

  What was wrong with him? He didn’t need to compliment his fake girlfriend’s pajamas.

  She’d also gotten out the sleeping bag, and he unrolled it while she brushed her teeth. When she returned, she shut off the light before walking over to the bed.

  He yelped. “You stepped on my shoulder.”

  “Sorry. I’m not used to having someone sleep on my floor.”

  “Why are you making it sound like this is my fault? The whole pretend boyfriend business was your idea.”

  “Shh. I don’t want anyone to hear. And tomorrow, you’re going to have to do a better job at pretending to be my boyfriend. You’re not being affectionate enough or calling me by any nicknames. Like ‘honeybuns.’ Or ‘mon petit chou-fleur.’”

  If she hadn’t turned out the light, she’d be able to see how horrified he was.

  She giggled.

  Oh, God. She’d been teasing him.

  “Alright,” he grumbled. “I’ll be sure to call you ‘my little cauliflower’ tomorrow—”

  “It sounds better in French.”

  “—and give you lingering looks. I might even squeeze your hand.” He rolled over so he was facing away from her, even if he was on the floor and she was on the bed. “Goodnight, Julie.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Though they weren’t sharing a bed, it still took him a long time to fall asleep.

  And this was only the first of three nights.

  Chapter 4

  Tom woke up the next morning to someone stepping on his foot.

  “Sorry!” Julie said.

  He didn’t reply. It had been less painful than when she’d stepped on him yesterday.

  Half an hour later, he was sitting at her desk when she returned from the washroom after her shower, wearing a pink sweater that looked incredibly soft. So soft that he nearly reached out to touch it.

  She looked at his tie and rolled her eyes.

  He didn’t tell her that he was wearing a tie just to get on her nerves. He took his turn in the washroom, then they headed downstairs together.

  “Oh, look!” she said as they walked into the living room. “My parents got stockings for you and Mike.”

  There were four stockings hanging above the fireplace. Two Mickey and Minnie Mouse ones, which he suspected were for Julie and Charlotte. Probably the same ones they’d had for thirty years. The other two had a more sober holly and ivy pattern.

  Truth be told, he was feeling pretty good this morning. Usually on Christmas, he’d drive to his parents’ house for dinner, but before then, he was on his own. There was no Christmas tree, no stockings.

  He lifted one of the holly and ivy stockings. “How do I know if this is mine or Mike’s?”

  “It doesn’t matter. They’re all the same.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait for other people?”

  “No, we’re always allowed to open these when we wake up.”

  He wasn’t sure why she led him into the kitchen, but when he saw what was in his stocking, he understood.

  It was all fruit. Clementines, oranges, kiwis and persimmons. Even a dragon fruit.

  “When I was a kid,” Julie said, “I thought there was a big greenhouse at the North Pole because we always got fruit in our stockings.”

  “But there would be twenty-four-hour darkness at the North Pole at Christmastime. Might be hard for fruit to grow in such conditions. Or would there be special lights—”

  “Tom!” She gave him a gentle shove, and he rather enjoyed it. Kidding around with her. Participating in someone else’s Christmas traditions.

  “I bet you never believed in Santa Claus,” she said. “I bet you’d walk down the stairs calmly on Christmas morning, even as a six-year-old, wearing pressed pants and a tie.”

  “You really lack imagination, you know that?”

  “Don’t you dare accuse me of lacking imagination. I thought there was a greenhouse at the North Pole. And my job involves being creative.”

  Her job making jewelry. Right.

  He lifted the snowflake pendant from around her neck. “It’s very detailed.”

  “Yes, I’m capable of being meticulous, Tom.”

  They were veering off course.

  “I never said you weren’t.” He put her necklace down, his fingers briefly brushing against her
skin. “I like it.”

  “You don’t need to say such things just because—”

  “I mean it. I do like it. I don’t have that talent and skill. I’m sure it took time to learn how to make such things.”

  She nodded, and the moment stretched on for a few beats longer than was comfortable. His gaze was focused on the snowflake...and, okay, maybe on her cleavage, too.

  “Now let’s eat our fruit!” she said with excessive enthusiasm. “I always sneak some treats on Christmas morning as well.”

  He started peeling a clementine while she made coffee and brought over a plate loaded with a variety of cookies and a few pieces of fudge.

  “Dig in,” she said. “Or is having cookies at eight in the morning too scandalous for you?”

  “I’m not as stuck-up as you imagine.” He reached for a shortbread cookie.

  When Julie licked the juice from an orange off her fingers, he was entranced by that simple action. What would it feel like to have her tongue—

  “I smell coffee.” Julie’s sister walked into the kitchen, closely followed by her boyfriend.

  Tom stilled, feeling like he’d been caught being naughty, which was unusual for him. But he’d merely been admiring his fake girlfriend. Getting into his role, that was all.

  Nothing to feel guilty about.

  And to get deeper into his role, he wiped an imaginary crumb off Julie’s cheek.

  * * *

  Later in the morning, after Bonnie and Albert had put the chickens in the oven, it was time to open presents. But first, Bonnie insisted on showing Tom all the decorations on the tree that Julie had made as a child. These included a clear plastic sphere with a cotton ball snowman inside, a horse made of wine bottle corks and colorful yarn, and a starfish reindeer.

  “When we were on holidays, we saw Santa ornaments made of starfish,” Bonnie said. “Julie said she wanted to make some herself, so we bought starfish, but because she wanted to be different, she painted a reindeer instead.” She smiled as she touched the bottom of the ornament.

  “I always thought it was funny-looking,” Charlotte said. “Like Rudolph fell off a roof and went splat on his back.”

  Julie stuck out her tongue at her sister.

  “Now I will select the first round of presents,” Bonnie said. “One for each person.”