Page 20

N ormally, I wouldn’t care if this shift was dragging because I had nothing to run home to, but now that Ryder is at my apartment, just waiting for me …

I’m dying for it to end.

I brought a change of clothes with me to work—per his request—and I’ve been watching the clock like my life depends on it.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take it out to see it’s Gemma before stepping into the supply closet, where no one can see me.

Surprisingly, it’s a slow day here at the hospital, so I have a few minutes to take a call.

Sliding my finger across the screen, I accept the FaceTime request, and seconds later, my best friend’s beautiful face appears.

“Merry Christmas,” she says, her smile growing as she looks at me.

I can instantly tell she’s at her parents’ house, and I wonder if Smith is there with her or if he went across the street to Mom and Dad’s.

“Merry Christmas, boo thang.” I grin.

“Was Santa good to you?”

“Better than he was to you, it seems,” she teases me.

“Working on Christmas Day, Sails?”

“Yeah, well, what else do I have to do?” I shrug.

“How’s the fam?”

“Good,” she says, forcing a small smile before she turns the phone and my brother’s dog, Storm, appears.

“Stormy says, Merry Christmas, Auntie .”

“Stormy boy,” I say in an obnoxious voice.

“What are you doing? Are you the bestest boy? Yes, you are.”

He nudges the phone with his nose, and Gemma giggles.

She loves Storm so much, even though she hasn’t known him all that long.

Storm was a rescue, and in a way …

Gemma was too. My brother loves that dog, but I’ve noticed lately that Storm has sort of become Gem’s instead of Smith’s.

But if Storm makes her happy, my brother would give him to her, no questions asked.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to saving lives. I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas,” Gemma says, ruffling the top of Storm’s head.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.” I look at Storm again.

“Love you, Stormy boy.” I make an annoying kissy noise with my lips.

“Merry Christmas, Gem.”

“Merry Christmas, Sails.” She smiles, and seconds later, we end the call.

I look at the time and almost jump for joy when I see I’m down to my last hour of work before tucking my phone back into my pocket.

I shouldn’t be this excited to hang out with a friend, but I’m eager to see what Ryder has in store for us tonight.

My mouth hangs open, and I think my heart stops beating.

I may turn into a puddle on the sidewalk as I take in the sight before me.

Ryder stands there, next to a horse-drawn carriage.

The boyish grin on his face makes the entire thing even more adorable, and even though we’re just friends, my knees feel weak.

When he starts my way, my legs move toward him, and suddenly, I feel nervous.

Right away, I know that’s a red flag.

If we really are just friends—which we are—I shouldn’t have butterflies the size of freaking Canadian geese flying in my stomach.

But he looks so handsome right now and so proud of himself for pulling this off.

When he reaches me, he takes my hand.

“I know you’re going to fight me on this, but just hear me out, okay? I know we’re only friends, so this can be pretend, but I’m here to take you on your first real date, Saylor Sawyer.” Pulling my hand up, he presses a kiss to it before he lifts his other hand and holds out a single red rose.

“What do you say? But just so you know, I fully expect that we’re going to treat this like an actual date, Brat, so you’d better play along.”

Slowly, I take the rose and peek at the stunning horses and the driver sitting at the front of the buggy.

Unlike how this would be in New England with snow, it’s not a sleigh.

But still, it’s just as perfect.

My cheeks hurt because I’m smiling so big.

“I wasn’t going to fight you,” I say, beaming at him.

“Thank you, Ryder.”

“Merry Christmas, Saylor,” he says, leading me toward the carriage.

As I climb up into it, my heart squeezes in my chest when I take in the blankets and to-go cups of hot chocolate that he set up.

This may be a fake date, but it still beats the shit out of anything I’ve ever experienced.

I take a seat, and within seconds, his warm body is next to mine.

I feel like I’ve landed in an adorable, small-town, Christmas romance movie.

I know we’re not going to end up like all the couples in those movies, but I’m not going to think about that right now.

I’m just going to enjoy this.

And enjoy him.

“All set?” the driver calls back to us.

Ryder looks at me for affirmation.

I give him a nod, and he grins.

“Yep, we’re ready,” he calls back.

Not a moment later, the horses are pulling us away from the hospital and toward the heart of Charleston.

Even though there’s no snow, like there would be at home, everything is brightly lit, and shop windows are fully decorated.

I’ve honestly never seen anything so perfect.

“This is … incredible,” I say, turning toward him.

“Definitely the best first date ever.”

He’s looking at me in a certain way that I know he shouldn’t, but I also don’t want to stop him.

He said himself that we have to act the part.

I’m sure he’s just a really good actor.

“You deserve a perfect first date,” he says straightforwardly.

“And I don’t care if we’re just friends. I want to be the man to give it to you.” Lifting his hand, he cups my cheek.

“You know, with real, proper dates … people kiss.”

“Do they now?” I say, lifting a brow.

“Well, I mean, we don’t want this to be improper, do we?”

“No, we don’t,” he drawls.

His face dips toward mine, and I squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation.

It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve kissed, but it’ll be the first time we truly kiss just to kiss.

My heart flutters inside my chest as his lips slowly work against mine.

I know this is only going to confuse my head and my heart—and, let’s be honest, I’m confused enough—but I don’t want to stop it, not when it’s so picture-perfect.

When he finally pulls away, it takes me a few seconds to pry my eyes back open because my body is still reeling from that kiss.

“That was … good,” I whisper, all breathy-like.

“For a first date, I mean.”

The corner of his mouth tips up into a crooked grin, and he nods.

“Good. I was hoping so.”

Putting his arm around me, he pulls me closer to him as we travel through Charleston.

This Christmas might not be like all the others I’ve had, but that might not be a bad thing.

I know this isn’t real, but I vow to myself I’m going to drink it all in like it is.

After all, this is my first proper date.

I’m going to enjoy it.

“We’re almost at our first stop,” I say, enjoying having Saylor in my arms a little too much.

“After this, we have dinner plans.”

She looks up ahead, and then her eyes fly to mine, wide with panic.

“A tattoo shop? On Christmas? How is that even possible?”

“Honestly, I’m not really sure,” I answer.

“But I’m going to get one with you.”

“How is this not a big deal to you? Do you already have other ones?” She stops, looking deep in thought.

“I’ve seen a lot of you, Ryder Cambridge, and I don’t remember any ink. But it would be crazy if you don’t already have one because you seem so … calm.”

“This will be my first,” I say honestly just as the horses come to a stop and she grows visibly antsy.

“Not a fan of needles, so never saw the need for a tattoo.”

Her throat works as she gulps thickly, her eyes wide and staring at the tattoo shop.

“Maybe we should just, you know, erase that from my list. I mean, a tattoo is forever. You do realize that, right? I felt like a badass, writing that, but I’d be fine to just, you know … cover it up with Wite-Out and pretend it was never there, and no one has to know.”

“Stop it,” I say, patting her thigh.

“How about I go first? You can watch me be a big, brave boy, and it’ll make you feel better.” I shrug before slowly standing and pulling her up with me.

“I’ll even let you choose my ink.”

“Well, that’d be great, but … does that mean you get to choose mine too?” She gasps.

“I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“What are you scared of?” I utter, bringing my lips to her ear.

“Afraid I might get an outline of my dick on your ass cheek?”

Her body shudders against mine, but she smacks my arm lightly.

“You wouldn’t!” She pauses, looking thoughtful.

“What about matching ones?”

“Sounds intimate,” I tease her, leading her down onto the sidewalk.

“I’m kidding. That sounds good, but I think I should choose.”

“Um, no!” She shakes her head.

“That’s a negative, Ghost Rider.”

I tilt my head to the side.

“Your list is all about letting go and living, Brat. Don’t you think letting someone else choose your ink would be a perfect example of that?” I narrow my eyes.

“I mean, you have kissing Morgan Wallen on there. That seems weirder than letting me choose your tattoo.”

Her mouth hangs open, and she stares at me in shock.

“He’s Morgan Wallen, you moron. I’d let him or Riley Green do just about anything to me—”

Bringing my finger to her lips, I shut her up.

Damn Riley and his mustache, and fuck Wallen and his handsome face.

“Don’t wanna hear it, Brat. You’re on a date with me now.”

Her eyes dance between mine, and surprisingly, she keeps quiet.

Slowly, I pull my finger away from her plump lips.

“Fine, you choose. But nothing stupid, okay?”

“I’m getting it too; you think I want something stupid on me?” I ask, pretending she hurt my feelings.

“I mean, maybe … yes,” she deadpans.

“You do weird, debatable shit from time to time.”

“I already have one in mind,” I toss back, giving her an annoyed look.

“And it is definitely not stupid.” It actually holds significance for us both.

She sighs, moving around on her feet a bit, like she’s shaking out her nerves.

“All right. Fine,” she says before walking past me.

“Let’s do this. Before I change my mind.”

We end up getting our tattoos done at the same time—how there are two people working at a tattoo shop on Christmas, I have no idea.

But this worked out because she agreed I could choose what we got.

Mine is done, and the artist finishes hers before wiping it off and nodding toward Saylor.

“It’s done,” he says proudly.

“What do you think?”

Holding her arm up, she stares at the small outline of Maine on her bicep.

I chose the outline of Maine for both of us because for Saylor, that’s her home, and for me, it’s where my Shark family is.

And truly, I love it so much that I don’t know if I’ll ever leave.

“Oh my God,” she squeals, covering her mouth.

“I love it.”

“Did I do okay?” I grin.

“Not too stupid, right?”

She doesn’t tear up, which I knew she wouldn’t because that isn’t her.

But her voice is thick with emotion when she says, “Definitely not stupid, Ryder. You did good. I … I really love it. I was worried you’d give me a corny quote or actually follow through and get an outline of your dick.” She stares at it again.

“Now I have a little piece of home with me all the time.”

The corner of my lips turns up, and I wink.

“If it were an outline of my dick, we both know you would have been in the chair much longer, babe. Besides, why would I need a tattoo of my dick? I get to look at it every day. And, yes, I realize how blessed that makes me.”

“Do you always have to ruin a nice moment?” she says, rolling her eyes just before looking at my tattoo.

“Maine looks good on you too, you know.”

I nod once, attempting to look at my upper arm.

“Maine has been good to me. Seemed right, I guess.”

Her eyes dart from my arm to my face, and she tilts her chin up, looking at me.

“It screams obsessed, you know. Agreeing to get a matching tattoo with me. You must have wanted to match me for the rest of your life.” Her shoulders shrug, and her grin widens.

“But what can I say? I’m pretty damn flattered, Pretty Boy.”

I have the urge to pull her against me and kiss her until she’s breathless, but I refrain.

There’s something deep inside of me that swells with pride though.

Because for the rest of our lives, no matter where she ends up, she’ll look down at her arm and know that I chose it for her.

Maybe one day, she’ll hate that this outline of a state on her skin connects us, but I know I never will.

I’m just holding on for as long as I can, even if it’s only as her friend.

Because a friend is still better than nothing at all.