Page 14 of Naughty-ish

“Why am I on speaker phone?” His mom interjects. “And why are you even calling me if you’re on a date? You really are out of practice and—”

“I’ll call you later, Ma. Love you.”

“Don’t call me later.” She chuckles but it sounds like a barking dog. “And love you, too.”

Nick presses END on the call and pushes the ignition button to turn off the truck.

“Did you really just call your mom?”

Nick focuses on me. “Didn’t want you to think you were a replacement date.”

“I am a replacement, though,” I tease.

He smiles sweetly. “No one replaces my mom. But I’m happy you were available to come with me.”

“Well, I am a single mom.” I emphasize, recalling what his mother said. “And did your mom call me hot?” My face heats as I repeat her words.

“Actually, I said you were hot. And I’ve told you that on more than one occasion.” Nick opens his door on those words, and I’m left a little stunned. He thinks I’m good looking?

It’s not that I think I’m bad looking, I’m just kind of a mess lately. I don’t always eat well and sometimes I have a stain on my shirt I didn’t realize was there until I’m already at work. Other times, I only have mascara on one eye because I’ve been interrupted while putting on my makeup in the morning by one of the kids. I might even have a hole in one sock and had to wear it anyway because I haven’t gotten to the laundry.

While Nick comes round the truck, I slide to my door and open it. Nick steps forward and places his hands on my hips, lifting me down from the cab like I weight nothing, even under all these layers. When my feet hit the ground, he remains close, and I get a whiff of a bayberry and snow scent coming off him. With our bodies close, our warm exhalations intermingle in the cold night air. The merging of our breaths is like the whisper of a kiss.

Nick abruptly lets me go, takes a step back, and simply asks in a gruff voice, “Ready to see the lights?”

“I’m so ready.” And while I’ve said it breathlessly, my heart races and my face heats again at the possibility this is a date. Even as a substitute for his mom, I’m on my first date in years.

The entrance to the garden is crowded and Nick takes my mitten-covered hand in his leather-gloved one to draw me around a group taking their time to enter.

As we approach the first water garden, I imagine the wistful intimacy of being the only two people present. We’d be able to stop and admire the dancing lights over the pond without a large, rambunctious crowd dampening the romantic effect.

Still, we slow to take in each display of hopping lights and swirling streams of illumination synchronized to holiday music. The movements remind me of Disneyworld with its thematic tunes orchestrated to fireworks or coordinated with images projected on a wall of water.

Eventually, we break free of the crowd for a moment and wander down a path that looks like thousands of fireflies flitting among the evergreens. I stop abruptly and stare.

“How did they do that?” I whisper in wonder as the lights speckle the trees like miniature fairy-winged bugs that couldn’t possibly be present in such cold temperatures.

An instrumental of “Christmas Time Is Here” comes on.

“I love this song,” I quietly add, negating my earlier argument against holiday music.

Nick arches a brow at me, adding a smirk at the classic from “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” “You love this?”

Chewing at my lower lip, I nod, suppressing a giggle. Standing here in the dark, watching pinpricks of light float around us, I feel lighter, almost giddy, and with the piano-heavy song playing I itch to dance.

Raising my arms, I sway my hips and hum along.

Nick looks around as if he’s searching for someone, then his hand comes to my hip and he’s gently pushing me forward before he steps over the low chain barrier that edges the path to keep people out of the gardens.

“What are you doing?” I hush-whisper, glancing over my shoulders as Nick fists the edge of my coat in his fingers and tugs me forward until we’re slipping between the evergreen trees. He gently pulls until we’re in the middle of the setting, where we definitely should not be.

“Nick?” I scold.

“Shush.” He pauses and tips back his head. “Look around.”

Brushing off the fact this burly looking man just shushed me, I tilt back my head and look up as dots of light dance around us. It’s like standing in the middle of a dark forest in summertime when the fireflies come out. Or in the middle of a snow globe filled with dancing light.

“Be the light,” Nick murmurs.