Chapter 36
A DATING GIFT
ROWAN
I did my homework already—picked something I thought she’d love for our date.
But I also picked something that’ll help me win this fake-dating bet.
I did my prep too. Called The Sleigh Bell Special.
Made the arrangements. Dropped off Mia with my parents, where they plan to review all the fun activities they might do on their kid-grandparent cruise.
Then, since I didn’t want to add to their plate on their first night in town, I checked Wanda into the local dog daycare.
Dog Tails has a location here, so that was an easy decision. My girl is happy.
I swing by Isla’s parents’ house in the early evening. As I walk up the stone pathway I try not to think about what I did to her—nearly did to her—against their house the other night. It’s a little weird picking her up at her parents’ place. It feels so…old-fashioned date-ish.
That’s what you wanted when you suggested practice-dates—to learn how to date again.
That’s not entirely true though. I simply wanted more time with her. And I’m getting it.
I pass the silver reindeer on the way to the porch and lift my hand to knock on the door—when it swings open.
“Rowan!” Isla’s dad’s Santa hat sits jauntily on his head, the bowl of popcorn in his hand smelling like butter and the movies. “Are you going to join us tonight? We’re watching The Naughty List,” he says with a wink.
And…I’m thrown off as I say, “I don’t think so.”
“Darling,” his wife chides from inside.
“Dad!” Isla groans from somewhere down the hallway.
“What?” her dad asks, all innocence.
“You did not just invite him to watch a racy Christmas movie,” Isla says, stomping down the hall.
Her dad grins impishly at me. “Oops.”
“Sweetheart,” her mom says, sliding up to him and gently smacking his arm, “Don’t do that again.”
“Because it’s date night,” he says to her, a little heat in his voice. “And you want me all to yourself.”
“Exactly,” his wife purrs, running a hand up his chest, and—holy shit—Isla’s parents are frisky. This is both very cool and completely mortifying.
“You two are embarrassing, and this must stop now,” Isla declares as she rounds the corner.
And…wow.
She’s not just wearing a skirt. She’s wearing a cream-colored sweater dress that hugs her curves.
My jaw hits the floor like a cartoon character’s. My skin heats. My mouth goes dry. I’m trying to remind myself this is fake, but the way I want her is all too real.
“You look…incredible,” I say, past the gravel in my throat.
Isla’s mom swings her gaze to her dad, and unspoken sentences—entire novels—pass between them.
When Isla reaches them, she says, “Don’t get ahead of yourselves. We’re dating for a few nights, then just going to the gala together.”
Ouch. For a few seconds, I feel like I’ve been slapped. Just the gala. But of course, that’s what our fake-dating deal is for—we’ll do this till Christmas Eve, then walk away as friends.
Too bad I can still feel the sting from those words. Just the gala.
“Right. Of course, dear,” her mom says, then flashes a small grin. “Which is why we got you a gift.”
Isla tilts her head, looking confused. “A gift because we’re…dating?”
Her dad snort-laughs. Her mom says with complete sincerity, “Yes. That’s exactly it. A dating gift. Let me go grab it.”
Isla swivels around to face her dad. “Do you know what this is?”
“I agree with your mother,” he says, faux robotically, and making it clear he knows what side his bread is buttered on.
“Dating gifts aren’t a thing,” she adds.
“Your mother is always right,” he continues.
“I think I’m getting dating tips from your dad too,” I say to her.
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t encourage him,” she says as her mother returns with…Isla’s roller bag.
It’s a hard-shell hot-pink suitcase with a drink holder, a laptop pocket, a phone mount, and charger points. It’s so organized, so Isla. There has never been a suitcase more suited to a person, and it makes my chest feel a little warm.
But I’m also thrown the fuck off.
So’s Isla. “Why did you just pack up my suitcase in thirty seconds?”
“Because I’m that good. And because this is your gift,” her mom says, then fishes her phone from her lounge pants pocket, theatrically stabs a button, and says, “And now the info’s in your email.
Your father and I got you a cute little rental cottage in town.
Not that I don’t love having you here, but it’ll be easier for the competition if you’re closer to the action,” she says, but there’s a snicker in her voice that tells me the competition isn’t entirely the reason for this dating gift.
“And…we thought it would help with the raccooning.”
Isla knits her brow. “What is that? Some weird new slang for your generation?”
Her dad snort-laughs again. “You could call it that.”
“Well, I hear raccoons are quite busy on the porch. Maybe you can find some at the cottage,” her mom says, fighting off a laugh.
Oh shit.
Her parents must know what happened the other night. Or suspect at least.
Isla’s face flushes the color of a fire truck as she lifts her chin. “I don’t know whether to thank you or—”
“Swear us to secrecy?” her dad offers, like he’s having the time of his life with this gift.
Isla lifts her finger. “Both. Let’s do both.”
“You’re welcome,” they say in unison.
“Yes, thank you,” I say. There’s a time for pleasantries and a time for silence, especially since I don’t want news of the raccooning to somehow get back to Jason.
We say goodbye, and I take Isla’s suitcase and walk her to my car. At first, I fight the urge to touch her—old habits and all, from our season for secrets. But now we’re in our public season, so I set a hand on her back.
I bet her parents are watching in the living room window.
After I stow her bag in the trunk—she said she’ll pick up her car later—I open her door, close it gently, and circle around to the driver’s side.
When I slip inside, I glance toward the house.
Sure enough, I spot two peeping parents in the window.
I shrug as I back up the car. “What’s the deal with the raccoons? ”
Isla gulps. “That light that flicked on the other night?”
“Right.”
“My mom said she thought she heard raccoons. I think it was her way of not stating the obvious.”
“Funny, since your parents are about as subtle as a pair of sledgehammers,” I say.
“More like a semi-truck.”
“Like a raccoon. But then, you have wanted to climb me like a raccoon since we went to your friend’s Christmas tree farm.”
She shoots me a withering look. “Don’t push your luck. Remember, we have a bet. Prove you’re amazing at dating.”
“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I will win so hard.”
She rolls her eyes. “We’ll see.”
“Yes, we will.” I set a hand on her thigh as we drive off, savoring the fact that I can touch her in public and in private.
For now, though, my mission is to take her on an amazing date, like she deserves.
Not gonna lie. I’ve never done anything like this before. Pulled out all the stops. Nerves jump around in my chest when we reach the parking lot for The Sleigh Bell Special.
She said she liked trains. But will she like this?
Here’s hoping. We walk into the tiny depot, where a life-size wooden Santa opens his jaw and mechanically greets us with a: “Ho, ho, ho.”
Lights wrap around the old-timey departures board, flickering in pinks, purples and blues for the holiday.
Isla looks up at the board. “We’re leaving in five minutes,” she announces, then spins around, scanning the empty depot with curiosity.
The only person here is the woman working the ticket counter.
“I’d have expected more people,” Isla says in a whisper, like we’re in a library. It’s quiet like one.
My lips twitch, but I keep a straight face. “Yeah, me too.”
“Maybe they’ll all show up in a few minutes,” she says.
“Maybe,” I say, but I doubt it.
“Are these the train tickets you bid on at the auction?”
Damn. Her memory is good. “Nope. I actually took Mia earlier today with those.”
“Oh! Did she love it?”
“She sure did,” I say, then tell her about our adventure as the train wound up the snowy hill, offering a stunning view of the snow-capped mountains and evergreen trees. I don’t tell Isla that when Mia and I got off the train, I made plans for our date tonight.
I peer out the doors to the platform as the train pulls in with a long whistle. “We should go outside,” I say, keeping my tone even, giving nothing away.
Isla peers behind us, surveying the empty depot once more, then shrugs and strides outside with me.
The train is three cars long. They’re all red and decked out with icicle lights and garlands. The words The Sleigh Bell Special are written on the side in a white scripted font.
A conductor with salt and pepper hair and crinkled eyes steps off the train and onto the platform, then strides over to us.
“You must be Mr. Bishop and the special guest,” he says, his tone filled with a certain elegance.
“Yes, we are,” I say, gesturing to the gorgeous brunette by my side. “My guest is Isla.”
“Lovely to meet you, Isla. We’re pleased to have you two all aboard tonight,” he says, then sweeps out his arm toward the train.
With something like wonder in her blue eyes, Isla steps onto the train then whirls around. “Rowan?” She’s looking up and down the empty cars. “Did you…?”
Pride fills me. “I did.”
When the conductor steps onto the next car, Isla closes the distance between us, wraps her arms around my neck, and licks her lips. “You arranged for a private Christmas train.”
She sounds enchanted, and I’m thrilled. This is exactly why I did it—to give her the best dates ever.
She deserves that, especially after her ex.
But then I flash back to what she shared about him.
How he took her to off-the-beaten-path spots, like he was hiding her, since he turned out to be married to someone else at the time.
Shit. I don’t want her to think I’m hiding. That’s not the reason for this private train ride.