AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m okay with us taking our time, by the way,” he said, drawing her attention to his beautiful face. “But I’m also glad I get to spend some time with you today.”
“Me too. And you know what I was thinking…we don’t know a whole lot about each other.”
Fletcher arched an eyebrow and smiled. “What do you wanna know, Mick?”
“Strawberry ice cream, really?”
He glanced at his cup overflowing with pink ice cream and laughed. “Don’t knock it ’til you try it.”
“It’s so pink, I’m afraid that if I eat it, I’ll be pooping pink for days.”
“What about you, huh? Chocolate and caramel, so predictable,” he shot back with a laugh.
“Better predictable than disgusting.”
“Whoa.” He held up one hand, a fake gasp following. “I like this aggressive side of you.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed, licking her spoon clean and enjoying the way his eyes narrowed at the action. She repeated it, slower this time and he growled. “So—” Micah licked the spoon again with a smirk ”—you’re into strawberries and what else?”
He hesitated, his eyes still locked on her mouth and after a long moment said, “Beer over whiskey, wine on some days.”
“And you like to cook,” she added.
“Especially if it’s for someone else.”
“What’s your go-to dish?”
He finally turned his attention away from her mouth, eating his ice cream as he pondered her question. Fletcher squinted against the setting sun. “Pasta seems like a safe and solid bet. Can’t really go too wrong if you’ve got all the right ingredients.”
“Like what you made for us that night?”
Nodding slowly, his eyes darted everywhere before settling on his ice cream. “I have to admit, Mick, sitting here with you, talking about random shit is hard when you’re so distracting.”
“What would you rather we do, Fletch?”
He turned those beautiful eyes on her and Micah inhaled sharply at the way he stared. “Give me your free time,” he whispered. “I’m about to be busy in the evenings, but I want us to spend some time together.”
“Yeah? What are we going to do, Fletch?”
“Anything. Everything. Just be with me, Mick.”
She nodded slowly, feeling his desire for her in every word. “Okay, Fletch, I’ll be with you.”
Fletcher
You want it to be twirly?
Fletcher had settled into accepting that his Decembers would be quiet and uneventful. That he would work at the shop during the day and roam the Village every evening as Santa. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the appearance of Micah George and her spitfire of a daughter. Now, he was making adjustments in his life and changing schedules. He was making plans so he could actually spend time with Micah. So far only Benson and his bandmates knew that something was happening, because he didn’t want to jinx it. There were moments when Fletcher would open his text conversation with Erin to tell her, but then stop himself. What was he going to say? The love of my life is back? I said I never wanted to get married again, but I lied? She’s here, the woman of my dreams? In all their years of being friends, he’d never talked about anyone that way before. She would be worried and probably hop on the next flight out to make sure he wasn’t falling apart.
Instead, he was focusing on getting his outfit for Rockstar Santa put together.
Flora, according to Hank, was a Sirena Beach fixture. Benson talked about her like she was a witch, that she’d been in town since the moment it came into existence. Fletcher thought everyone was losing their minds, until he met her. Formidable even though she was half his size, Flora could be all of the things rumors and stories said she was. But he was instantly drawn to her. She’d been Hank’s tailor when he took on the role of Santa in town. And with the responsibility passed onto Fletcher, she was now his tailor.
Which wasn’t the craziest thing he’d ever heard. During his time with The Rescuers, he had a tailor, an assistant, a manager, an agent and then a whole heap of other people who catered to his every whim and fancy. Unlike his bandmates, Fletcher didn’t take his team for granted. In fact, they often had to beg him to give them work. He never understood the concept of having a battalion of people doing everything for him when he was capable of going down to the pharmacy to refill his meds.
But Flora? He wasn’t going to trade her in for anything. In fact, when she wasn’t putting together his Santa outfits, she was also stitching him new shirts. Flora made fun of his flannel wardrobe, but expertly crafted his clothes for him. Fletcher didn’t have too many memories of his grandmothers, so he’d put Flora into that role whether she wanted it or not. Especially since she had opinions about everything in his life, including how he needed to date, get married and have a million children. In Flora’s mind, Fletcher was young enough to be a father. Little did she know that he was pushing fifty and hadn’t even considered parenthood until Emery George walked into his life.
“Quit daydreaming and tell me what we’re doing,” Flora said, tossing a ball of wool at him, making him drop his phone. “I’ve only got a few days to whip this up.”
