Date Yourself a Grinch (Have Yourself a Merry Little Romance #3)

Chapter 1

Tori

The Grinch hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!

Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason.

~ Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas!

“It’s Black Friday!” I shout, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

My still slightly-full belly rumbles, bringing back visions of the plate full of homemade cranberry sauce, turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and of course, the pumpkin pie with real whipped cream I devoured yesterday at my parents’ house.

My alarm clock continues to blare, the neon digits declaring that, yes, it’s only four o’clock.

My phone alarm follows on full volume. It’s obnoxious, but I wasn’t about to take any chances.

That red Coach crossbody bag is not going to buy itself.

On an elementary school secretary salary, today’s deep sales are my only shot.

My outfit’s already draped over the back of the chair in my bedroom: my cozy rust-orange sweatshirt that says Gobble Til You Wobble and brown yoga pants, because I followed the advice of said sweatshirt and I need a little forgiveness around the waistband today.

I slip all that on, ending with my favorite brown Nikes.

Some people wake early for sales. I wake up every single morning for the possibilities a new day holds.

Black Friday has more sweet surprises than most days.

The only holiday that tops Black Friday is Christmas, of course.

Well, that and some random holidays like National Man Watcher’s Day.

Look it up. That’s a day. Twenty-four hours dedicated to watching men as they go about their day-to-day existence.

I’m not a weirdo. I didn’t invent the practice.

But far be it from me to not observe a holiday. Am I right?

And watching men is pretty much as far as I’ve gotten in my twenty-six years.

I had a boyfriend in high school. Dated a few guys in college, but ever since coming back home to Waterford, my dating life has come to a screeching halt.

I’m not complaining. There’s always something to be grateful for in life. For me, it’s my best friends.

Speaking of which, I promised Stephanie I’d call her to make sure she’s awake.

Picking up my cell, I dial her number.

“No,” she answers in a groggy, but still oddly commanding voice. “No. No. No.”

“Steph,” I plead.

“Tori, I love you.” She yawns. Her voice comes out deep and raspy. I wonder if she’s even awake. “I love you, girly. I don’t love you enough for this level of torture.”

“Mkay,” I say, pausing for a moment to give her time to possibly rouse herself.

Maybe I should just go alone. I don’t want to force anyone, ever.

If I didn’t know how much Steph wants this, I’d back off. I’m the least pushy person. As a matter of fact, Steph’s always telling me to speak up, ask for what I want, and have an opinion.

“Four words and then I’ll let you get back to sleep,” I say cautiously.

“Mmmhmmm uhhhhh.” Steph sounds like she’s snuggling back into bed.

I pause between each word to let it sink in. “Ten … dollar … air … fryer.”

“Uhhhgggh,” she groans. “You win. I’m vertical.”

I smile a grin of satisfaction. Everyone has their breaking point. Steph’s been talking about that air fryer ever since I started making my Black Friday attack plan. We’ve got strategies and an itinerary.

“I’ll get you a coffee,” I promise her. “And I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

We live in Waterford, a five-stoplight town in north Tennessee. And, no, we’re not shopping here. I’m not looking to pick up another one of June’s handknit beanies at the church pop-up holiday market. No offense to June.

I pull up in front of Steph’s house as promised. And I nearly squeal when she walks out her door onto the porch followed by Alyssa, Jennifer and Noelle.

“What on earth!” I scream from inside the car.

They’re all smiles, running toward me.

“Hey, girl!” Alyssa says, grabbing the front seat. “Surprise!”

“Oh my gosh!” I look back at Steph. She obviously already showered, put on makeup and did her hair way before I called. “You weren’t asleep.”

“Do you think I’d sleep in and ruin your second favorite day of the year?” She beams.

“I thought that was man-watching day or whatever that is,” Jennifer says.

“That day in January when Tori insists we all watch men. It’s like you’re a card-carrying member of the Audubon Society, only it’s not birds.

I’d rather watch snow melt than watch most men in this town.

But isn’t that your favorite holiday, Tori? ”

“It is not. And I’m not watching men with a pair of binoculars or anything obnoxious.

Admit it. Men are intriguing. And that holiday reminds me to study the other half of our species.

But back to your question. Black Friday is my second favorite holiday.

Christmas is the best day on earth. Fight me on it. ”

“Fight you?” Steph says while I turn the key and pull away from the curb. “You don’t fight. You’d be like, ‘Okay. I see what you’re saying. You have a point. Memorial Day is better.’”

I smile into the rearview at her. “Maybe you’re right. I mean, it’s a whole day set aside for the sole purpose of honoring people who served our country and gave the ultimate sacrifice.”

“I rest my case,” Steph says. “Now, get me my coffee.”

“And stat,” Noelle says with a smile.

“What’s the word for hangry when it comes to coffee?” Alyssa asks.

“There isn’t one,” Jennifer says. “But there should be.”

“Cangry?” I try. “Coffangry? Angrinated? Caffeineless rage? Crankoffee?”

“I like crankoffee,” Jennifer says.

“I hate it,” Steph says with a smile that says she’s not as crankoffee as she’s playing it up to be.

“Tell me why no one has franchised a coffee shop that opens at five in Waterford,” Steph mumbles.

“Franchise?” Noelle asks, turning to face Steph in the back seat. “Did you just say the F word? You know we don’t franchise in Waterford. Goodness, girl. You do need your caffeine.”

“We don’t need a franchise,” I remind everyone. “We’ve got Baker From Another Mother.”

“Are they open today?” Alyssa asks.

“Shorter hours,” Jennifer informs the group. “Because of the church pop-up. But yes. They’re open.”

Jennifer is a fount of knowledge, precision and details.

She’s always watching everything and everyone around her.

If I need an answer on something factual, Jennifer’s the friend I turn to.

If I need someone to whip some sense into me, it’s Alyssa or Stephanie.

They never hold back. If I need someone to sit quietly when I pour out my heart to them, someone who will take my secrets to her grave, that’s Noelle.

We’ve all known one another since elementary school.

We scattered to leave for college and somehow managed to make our way back to Waterford to settle into our overlapping adult lives.

Stephanie jokes that they implant a magnetic chip into our bodies when we’re born.

I like to think it’s the comfort and familiarity of home. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

Downtown Waterford is dark and empty when we pull into a spot in front of the local bakery. I hop out. “Anyone else need something?”

“We all do!” Noelle says, opening the back door and holding it while Steph and Jennifer slide out.

The owners of Baker From Another Mother, Sydney and Emberleigh, greet us as soon as the bakery door opens.

I didn’t think I was even going to eat today after feasting so hard yesterday, but the smell in here has me reconsidering.

“Donuts are hot and fresh,” Sydney says, smiling at us. “You girls are just in time.”

“Give us five,” Noelle says. “Whatever’s the best-selling flavor, but please, no pumpkin.”

“We’ve got apple cider,” Syd says.

My favorite. That warm spicy flavor—nothing says fall like an apple cider donut.

We get our coffees and the pink box of donuts, and then we’re on the road to Nashville. It’s only an hour drive, but it feels like we’re crossing an invisible barrier every time we make the trip.

Our life in Waterford is simple, almost like a step back in time. We’ve got everything we need, even though we rarely have everything we want. People all know one another. Most of us grew up here. And our parents grew up here … and our grandparents … and their parents.

Nashville is all bright lights and nightlife, shops and trendy restaurants. Every time we come here, it seems they’ve put in something new. At least the larger-than-life mural of Dolly still graces the exterior wall of the Acme Feed & Seed building.

We spend the day shopping at Opry Mills and Green Hills and then we hit up the Fatherland District. By the time we’ve had lunch at my favorite place, Ladybird Taco, my trunk is full of boxes and bags and we’re all ready to call it a day.

The ride home is quiet. Steph falls asleep on Jennifer’s shoulder. Alyssa and I chat privately in the front seats.

“So, how are things with Carson?” I ask.

“Well …” She smiles. “Actually great.” She holds out her left hand and privately admires her engagement ring.

“I love that for you.”

“I’m still in shock nearly one year later. He’s just not what I expected.”

“How so?”

“I wasn’t looking for romance, and certainly not with one of Liam’s bro-friends.”

“Hey,” Noelle says softly from the back seat.

“I’m talking about my own fiancé. They bring the guys’ locker room vibe whenever we’re not around. You have to admit it.”

“Oh, I know,” Noelle says. “And not only when we’re not around.”

“Does Mitch even own a shirt?” I ask.

“You know he does,” Noelle says with a laugh.

“Hey, if I were in my late twenties, rocking a set of abs like his, I’d pull my shirt up or off to show off all my hard work,” Jennifer says casually.

Alyssa’s eyes go wide.

“As a man! Not me, personally! You know what I’m saying,” Jennifer quickly adds.

“I honestly never noticed his abs,” I admit.

“How? He’s basically regularly shining a floodlight on them,” Alyssa says.

“I usually look away,” I say.

“We’re pulling your card,” Jennifer says.

“What card?” I ask.