Merry Humbug Christmas (14 page)

Joss swallowed around the lump in her throat and rubbed the

goose bumps that had risen on her arm.

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“Too much information,” Patrick observed as he rubbed the

stubble on his jaw. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she softly replied. “It’s encouraging somehow

to see someone like you with beliefs he can really stand on.”

“It’s not limited to someone like me, Joss. It’s a universal

possibility.”

She looked into his dark hazel eyes, and when he smiled at her,

that ridiculously adorable dimple in his chin deepened.

“Ready to make our way back?”

Joss nodded. “More than.”

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On the ninth day of Christmas,

Murphy’s Law gave to me . . .

nine Scrooges hiding,

eight careers crashing,

seven songs a-shrieking,

six teeth a-breaking,

five cold sardiiiines!

four dirty words,

three French friends,

two hearty shoves,

and a Partridge with the first name Keith.

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9

“Are you sure you won’t come to the dining room?”

“No,” Joss insisted. “No, really. I . . . can’t.”

“You can.”

“Okay, I can. I just don’t want to.”

Patrick leaned against the doorway and sighed. “Then how about

this,” he suggested. “Let me arrange dinner for us up on the top deck.”

“Will they do that?” she asked.

“I read about it in the guest services book in the drawer. You

choose your menu and phone it in, and they serve it to you right out there at a private table.”

“I don’t know. I was sort of thinking about hiding out alone in my jams, watching something on the television.”

“Your jams?” he repeated. “What are jams?”

“Pjs. Pajamas.”

He chuckled as Joss tilted her head slightly and stared him down

for one intense moment. “Well,” she said, pausing to shake her head.

“What do they serve? Anything good?”

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“What strikes your fancy?” he asked her, and her heart fluttered

slightly. “Steak and lobster? Pasta and shrimp? What sounds good?”

“Something cheesy and Italian,” she declared. “Will they do pizza, or lasagna, or something?”

“I’ll find out. What do you like on your pizza?”

“Everything except anchovies,” she said, and then the memory of

those sardines on Patrick’s breakfast plate inspired a gasp. “Do I need to say this? No sardines!”

“Got it. No anchovies, no sardines. I’ll make all the arrange-

ments, and I’ll be back to get you at seven-thirty.”

“Perfect. Is this party casual or black tie?”

“Casual,” he replied with a wide grin. “Feel free to wear your

jams.”

“Funny.”

“And bring a jacket or a sweater. It may get breezy up there.”

Joss let Patrick leave before she leaned against the doorjamb and watched him make his way down the garland-draped corridor, her

heart pounding, and a sort of ridiculous grin forcing its way across her face. She never could have imagined meeting someone like

Patrick when she booked that Bah Humbug cruise for her and Reese.

The absolute best hope had been a little distraction from the real-life season that rolled around each and every year, ready or not.

Once inside she glanced at the clock next to the bed. With two

hours before dinner, she decided to make the most of it. After a long bath and moisturizing mask, she dug out her nail kit and settled into one of the balcony chairs for a sunset do-it-yourself mani-pedi. She curled up on the bed to meticulously apply her makeup, and then

she took a crimper to her hair. By the time she pulled on her favorite jeans and charcoal shell sweater, the predate jitters had kicked into high gear.

Joss sat down on the corner of the bed and watched the clock

tick away the minutes. When 7:30 quickly became 7:39, she started to fidget again. But the 7:40 knock at the door shot through her, and she jumped to her feet.

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“YOU’LL START WITH A Caesar salad and warm garlic knots,” the

server explained as he set the first course in front of them. “The entree will be baked ziti and spears of grilled zucchini with fresh Parmesan.”

Patrick grinned when Joss let out a soft moan. “You said you

wanted Italian. And they didn’t offer pizza up here.”

“It’s perfection!”

The small table sat at an angle in a private corner behind a large column, and a plexiglass and steel railing allowed a perfect view beyond them: dark water stretching out to the horizon under a perfect silver half-moon and a million bright-white stars.

“Can I pour you some wine or get you a cocktail?” the waiter

offered.

“Do you have iced tea?” Joss asked him.

“Certainly. And you, sir?”

“The same.”

Resisting the urge to reach across the table and touch the wavy

lock of reddish hair caught on the sea breeze, Patrick unfolded his napkin, placed it on his lap, and picked up his fork. “I’m a little disappointed in your attire,” he said seriously.

She gasped. “Are you? I’m sorry. I thought you said casual.”

“And I thought you said pajamas.” She cocked her head and shot

him an I-am-not-amused fake smile. “But admit it,” he added. “Even though you had to dress, this is much better than what you had

planned.”

“We’ll see,” she teased. “You’ll have to do pretty well to top my bunny jams and matching pink socks. Let’s just see if you burp your ziti before I pass judgment.”

“There’s an Italian place about a mile from my house,” he told her.

“They make an amazing baked ziti that comes with freshly ground

sausage. I have high hopes for this meal, but I’ll be hard pressed to like it as much.”

“I have a place with a dish like that near my place too. Carmine’s,”

she hummed. “They deliver to me at least one night a week.”

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“Carmine’s,” he repeated, and a surge of adrenaline shot through

his chest. “On Glenoaks?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. When it settled in on her, Joss asked him,

“Patrick,
where do you live
?”

“In Glendale.”

“Glendale? I thought you live in Arizona.”

“No. My mother and her friends live there. I’m in Glendale.”

“Are you joking? I’m in Los Feliz, in the hills above Griffith Park!”

Patrick couldn’t stop the flames of the smile that completely

engulfed his face. “We live . . . what? . . . ten minutes apart?”

“If that!” she cried. “How bizarre is kismet like this?”

“Not bizarre kismet, Joss,” he assured her. “Destiny.”

A stain of color washed over her face and neck, and she looked

suddenly—and surprisingly—shy. She twisted a lock of hair around

her finger and stared out at the stretch of ocean.

“It’s beautiful,” she said on a sigh.

“I can’t believe you know Carmine’s,” he said in hopes of putting her at ease again.

It worked, too, because she slipped to the edge of her chair and

exclaimed, “I know!”

Dinner conversation took on a whole new dynamic as they

compared notes about their neighboring communities, and Patrick

could almost picture Joss in one of those beautiful old Spanish houses perched in the hills or stretched out on a blanket and reading a book on the main lawn at Griffith Park. He passed her neighborhood every Sunday morning on the way to church, and he couldn’t help wondering how many times they’d shared a waiting line at Trader Joe’s or pulled up next to one another at the stoplight near Atwater Village.

Over tiramisu and coffee they exchanged tales of concerts at

The Greek, the Fourth of July fireworks at the Hollywood Bowl, and countless movies at the Burbank AMC. Joss told him about Mavis,

the crazy groomer in Glendale who had mistaken her instructions

for Caleb, her sheepdog, and shaved the poor thing completely bald a year prior.

“Mavis
Weatherly
?” he clarified.

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And once he explained how he knew that, Joss squealed like a

grade-schooler. “What are the odds that you would live across the street from her, Patrick? This is just absurd! We could have known each other for years already!”

He decided not to reveal he already felt like that had been the

case in the spirit of keeping her from leaping overboard. Instead, as a small trio began to play an almost haunting version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” Patrick stood up and offered his hand to Joss. “Come here.”

She smiled curiously and took it, following him around the table.

Careful not to intrude upon other diners at intimate tables dotting the deck, he stayed close to the railing as he took Joss into his arms and they swayed softly to the melody.

“This is the best Christmas holiday I’ve had in . . .”

When her words trailed off, Patrick chuckled. “Ever?” he

suggested.

With a soft giggle, she conceded. “Could be.”

“Very unexpected.”

“Very.”

“Filled with promise.” When she didn’t comment, he pulled back

slightly and looked into her gold-flecked eyes. “No promise?”

“I suppose,” she replied. “Now that you haven’t burped the mari-

nara, I’ll say yes. Very promising. Speaking of which, if you’re going to kiss me, keep in mind I had three of the garlic knots. Approach at your own risk.”

“Kiss you?” he teased, drawing her back into his embrace. “I

hadn’t even considered it.”

Joss took her turn at pulling back, and she stared him down, the

gold flecks in her brown eyes flickering like flames. “Ah, that’s too bad. I was all geared up for it too. But you know what? The rest of my tiramisu will do me one better.”

“You think so, do you?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, and she turned in the direction of their table.

With a chuckle, Patrick gently tugged a small bouquet of holly

and mistletoe out of the glass vase on an empty table near them.

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Pulling her back again, he grinned and lifted the sprigs above their heads.

“Well, now we have no choice,” she said, stepping beneath it.

Patrick brushed her forehead with the mistletoe before he

pressed his lips softly to hers.

“WHERE DID YOU TWO come from?” Kathleen asked as Joss and

Patrick sauntered up to the row where she was seated inside the

small theater.

“Patrick told me you all were here to see
The Bishop’s Wife
,” Joss said. “I haven’t seen it since I was a little girl.”

“You do remember it’s a Christmas movie, don’t you, dear?”

Kathleen gently asked her.

Joss chuckled. “Yes. But Cary Grant was a special favorite of my

mom’s, and this was her favorite movie. I thought it might be fun.

Besides,” she said, nodding toward the paper tub inside the circle of Patrick’s arm, “there’s free popcorn.”

Patrick led her to the row behind Kathleen, Lilibeth, and the

Dentures to the two empty seats on the aisle. The minute they settled and she opened one of the two bottles of water and handed it to Patrick, the lights dimmed, and a huge blue velvet curtain lifted from in front of the screen.