19. Kieran
NINETEEN
KIERAN
We had just finished looking at one of the vendor stalls when the thought hit me.
I stopped walking so abruptly that Thane took two more steps before realizing I wasn't beside him anymore.
"What?"
I shoved my hands into my pockets. "I didn't get you anything."
The words slipped out before I could talk myself out of them. The admission felt ridiculous the second it was out in the open, but it was too late to take it back now.
Thane blinked. “You didn’t get me anything?”
"For Christmas."
Understanding dawned across his face. "Kieran—"
"No, seriously." I dragged a hand through my hair. "Six days ago, I didn't even know who you were. Five days ago, I found out half the city knew who you were. Since then, it's been one thing after another, and somehow I never stopped to think about Christmas presents."
Something warm settled in his expression. The kind of look that made me feel as though he was seeing more than I intended to show. "You don't have to get me anything."
"I know."
"You really don't."
"I know."
His smile widened. "Then why do I feel like you're about to argue with me?"
"Because you're starting to know me."
That earned a laugh.
I looked away before I could get distracted by how much I liked the sound of it. "I just..." I shrugged. "I feel weird showing up for Christmas empty-handed."
For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then he stepped a little closer. "Kieran."
The way he said my name made me look up. "You came with me."
I opened my mouth to protest, but didn't let me.
"You put up with reporters. You met my parents. You left Seattle. You're spending Christmas with me." His voice softened. "Honestly? That's the best gift I've gotten all year."
The stupid thing was that I felt my face getting warm. Nobody should be allowed to say things like that with a straight face. Unfortunately, Thane appeared to have made it a personal mission.
"You're impossible."
"I've been told that."
I shook my head. "Too bad. I still want to buy you something."
The grin that followed looked suspiciously triumphant. "Then let's make a deal."
I narrowed my eyes. "Why do I feel like I'm being set up?"
"Because you're starting to know me."
I hated that he had stolen my line.
A few minutes later, we agreed on the rules.
Thirty minutes. A modest budget. No doing anything ridiculous. Then we would meet back at the giant Christmas tree in the center of the fair.
As we headed off in opposite directions, I glanced over my shoulder. Thane was already walking away with purposeful strides.
I had exactly thirty minutes to buy a Christmas present for a man who could probably purchase half the town if he felt like it. What exactly was I supposed to buy for somebody who already had everything?
I stopped in front of a booth selling handmade ornaments and immediately felt out of my depth. Glass snowflakes hung from wooden racks. Hand-painted Santas lined one shelf. Small carved animals occupied another.
A woman behind the table smiled. "Shopping for somebody special?"
The question caught me off guard.
Heat crept into my face. "Yes, ma’am."
Her smile widened.
I picked up a carved whale and turned it over in my hands. The craftsmanship was beautiful. The whale itself reminded me vaguely of the Seattle Orcas logo.
For approximately three seconds, I convinced myself it was a brilliant idea. Then I imagined handing it to Thane. The mental image was enough to make me put it back immediately.
"No?" The vendor sounded amused.
"No," I admitted. "Definitely not."
The search continued.
I wandered from booth to booth while the minutes slipped away. Every time I thought I'd found something, I talked myself out of it. A hockey-themed mug felt too obvious. A leather wallet felt too personal. A novelty Christmas ornament felt like something you bought for a coworker you barely knew.
The problem wasn't finding a gift.
The problem was that none of the gifts felt like Thane.
Eventually, I gave up and headed back toward the giant Christmas tree. We still had a few minutes before we were supposed to meet, and standing around feeling defeated seemed marginally more productive than continuing to stare at things I didn't want to buy.
The lights overhead sparkled against the darkening sky while holiday music drifted through the crowd. Families posed for photographs. Children ran circles around the tree. Couples stood shoulder to shoulder, sipping hot chocolate.
I was almost back at the tree when a booth tucked between a candle vendor and a stand selling homemade fudge caught my attention.
I frowned. I didn't remember seeing it before. Or maybe I'd been too busy looking for something impressive to notice it.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I wandered over.
A few seconds later, I spotted it.
It wasn't flashy or expensive. It wasn't even particularly practical. But the second I picked it up, I knew because it made me think of him. Not Thane Hale, the hockey player, or Thane Hale the public figure. Just Thane. And somehow that felt like the right answer.
I checked the time. Three minutes left.
For the first time since we'd made our ridiculous agreement, I felt confident enough to head back.
What I wasn't prepared for was the sight waiting for me when I got there.
Thane was already waiting beneath the giant tree with a small paper bag hooked around two fingers, looking far too pleased with himself.
I slowed as I approached him. “You look smug.”
“I look festive.”
“You look smug in a festive location.”
His gaze dropped to the bag in my hand, and his smile softened. He did not ask what I had bought. I appreciated that because the gift suddenly felt more private now that it existed outside my head.
“Thirty minutes,” he said. “Small budget. No ridiculous spending. I followed all the rules.”
“That sounds exactly like something a person who broke the rules would say.”
He laughed and reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine as though we had been doing this for years instead of days. “Come on. Let’s put these in the SUV before you accuse me of financial crimes in public.”
We tucked both bags safely behind the seat before heading to Sugar & Spice Cafe. Neither of us mentioned what we had bought, which somehow made the whole thing feel even more intimate. The gifts were small, inexpensive, and probably a little ridiculous, but they were ours.