Page 16 of Guys Can’t Write Romance
Chapter eleven
“Hallmark? As in mushy chick flicks?” Chad said, pausing in the doorway as he eyed her suspiciously. From inside the apartment came the smell of fresh-baked cookies.
“Yes. And you will behave.”
She led him into the living room, where he was surprised to find a whiteboard with romance plot points sitting on Chloe’s easel. On the coffee table sat a plate of cookies.
“Wow. You really went full teacher on this,” Chad said as he sat down on the couch and found a cup of hot chocolate on the table with a ‘Chad’s Cup’ label stuck to the side.
He grinned. “And I even get my own cup. Does this mean I’m special?”
Daisy shook her head. “That’s so we know which cup to sanitize later.”
He laughed as he fetched a cookie from the plate. “So, is there a syllabus for the class? Required reading? Homework?”
“Nope,” she said, plopping down on the couch.
“But there will be a quiz at the end. So pay attention.” Although her tone was serious, there was a playful glint in her eye that Chad wasn’t used to seeing.
She pulled a red blanket with ‘Hallmark’ embroidered on it over her lap and curled her legs up beneath it.
“You have a Hallmark blanket?” he said with amused disbelief.
“Every girl does. Now shush.”
Daisy clicked the remote on the DVD player, and the movie started, the Hallmark logo appearing on screen accompanied by a musical jingle that made Chad wince.
“Let me guess how this ends,” Chad said around a mouthful of cookie. “Small-town girl meets big-city guy. Someone owns a bakery. There’s a festival. They kiss in the snow. The end.”
Daisy clicked the remote, pausing the movie. “First of all, that’s ‘A Blizzard of Love,’ and we’re watching ‘The Christmas Inn-heritance.’ Totally different movie.”
“Does someone own a bakery?”
“It’s an inn that makes amazing cinnamon rolls,” she said, as if the distinction should be obvious.
Chad grinned. “Same thing.”
“The inn has historical significance,” Daisy said defensively.
“Does it need saving from an evil developer?”
Daisy’s silence was telling.
“Ha! Called it.” Chad reached for another cookie, but Daisy quickly yanked the plate away and shot him a scolding look she would normally give one of her first-grade boys who taped a girl’s hair to her desk.
“Cookies are only for students who behave.”
Chad folded his hands in his lap. “Okay. I’ll behave, Miss Fields.”
“You’d better,” she said, holding the plate over so he could grab another cookie. “Otherwise, I’m making you write an essay on the importance of small-town festivals in romance.”
“There’s a festival in this one too?” he said.
She quickly yanked the plate away before he could grab a cookie.
Chad coughed to clear his throat. “I mean, of course there’s a small-town festival in this one. Every romance needs a small-town festival. Right?”
She inched the plate back within his reach, and he quickly grabbed a cookie before she changed her mind again. “See how this works?” she said with a sly grin.
“Yup,” Chad said, shoving the cookie in his mouth. “Let’s play the movie,” he mumbled through a mouthful of cookie.
Daisy smiled despite herself. She put the plate back on the table and pressed the ‘play’ button on the remote.
As the movie began, establishing shots of a quaint, snow-covered town filled the screen. Gentle, tinkling Christmas music played in the background as the camera panned down a main street decorated with garlands and twinkling lights.
Chad managed to behave through the opening credits before jumping back in as soon as the male lead walked into a hardware store. “Let me guess, he’s a workaholic real estate developer who’s about to learn the true meaning of Christmas?”
“If you don’t stop talking, I’m switching to ‘Happy Valley Wedding’.”
“What’s that one about?”
“A dog that’s a wedding planner.”
Chad shot her a look of disbelief. “You’re serious?”
“Yup.”
“How does a dog plan weddings?”
“Do you want to find out?”
Chad shook his head. “Nope. We can stick with the workaholic real estate developer.”
“Then, shush.”
“Shushing,” Chad said, mimicking pulling a zipper shut across his lips.
As the movie resumed, Daisy was surprised to see Chad settle back on the couch and actually start watching it.
The female protagonist, Emma, appeared on screen, rushing through New York City in stylish winter attire, clutching a coffee and talking on her phone about deadlines and presentations.
“City girl trope,” Chad commented, as if making field notes on a wildlife documentary. “Natural habitat: overcrowded coffee shops and glass office buildings.”
Daisy shot him a warning look but didn’t pause the movie. Ten minutes in, Emma received a mysterious letter informing her she had inherited her grandmother’s inn in a small town called Pine Ridge.
“And cue the reluctant journey home,” Chad murmured, quickly snatching a cookie before Daisy could yank the plate away again.
But rather than make a move for the plate, Daisy shot him a curious look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Nope,” Chad said, though he was now leaning forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Just analyzing it. Doing my research.”
“Uh-huh.”
The movie continued as Emma arrived in Pine Ridge, reunited with childhood friends, and discovered the inn was in danger of foreclosure. When the male lead appeared — Jake, the handsome but gruff local contractor hired to help repair the place — Chad’s commentary resumed.
“Flannel shirt, two days’ stubble, probably has a tragic backstory involving either the military or a broken engagement,” Chad said.
“Broken engagement,” Daisy confirmed. “She left him at the altar.”
Chad nodded. “Yup. Classic.”
Despite his best efforts to maintain his ‘too cool for this’ facade, Chad found himself getting invested as the story progressed.
When Jake helped Emma fix up the old inn, he sat forward, unconsciously mirroring the male lead’s posture.
When they almost kissed under the mistletoe only to be interrupted by the rival developer (who, indeed, wanted to turn the inn into luxury condos), he actually groaned out loud.
“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed, gesturing at the screen with the last bite of cookie in his hand. “They were right there!”
Daisy bit back a smile, watching Chad’s reaction more than the movie she’d already seen three times. “Something wrong?”
“Nope,” Chad said quickly, slouching back onto the couch and attempting to look disinterested. “Just making note of story structure. You know, the, uh, rising action or whatever.”
“Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re taking notes on how the rival developer just happens to be the hero’s ex?”
“It’s a cheap plot device,” Chad muttered, his eyes never leaving the screen. “But I guess it kind of works.”
For the next hour, Chad’s commentary gradually diminished as he became more wrapped up in the story.
He didn’t comment when Emma discovered Jake was secretly helping the town’s children build a new playground.
He didn’t make a snarky remark when Jake revealed his late grandmother had been best friends with Emma’s grandmother.
And when Mrs. Butterworth’s cat got lost in the snowstorm, prompting a town-wide search, Chad actually clutched a throw pillow to his chest, his knuckles visibly whitening when the feline was found nearly frozen beside the old covered bridge.
“It’s a cat,” Daisy whispered, nudging him. “It’s fine.”
“I know that,” Chad said gruffly, loosening his grip on the pillow.
The climax of the film arrived, a Christmas Eve gala to save the inn, complete with twinkling lights, a restored ballroom, and locals in their holiday finest. Emma, wearing a stunning red dress, finally confessed her feelings to Jake, who revealed he’d never stopped loving her.
As they leaned in for the final kiss, with snow gently falling outside the decorated windows, the music swelled to a triumphant crescendo.
Chad was completely silent, his expression softer than Daisy had ever seen it.
When the credits rolled, he stretched, trying to look casual. Daisy watched him for a moment, studying his reaction.
“Any thoughts?”
Chad shrugged nonchalantly, though there was the faintest hint of redness rimming his eyes. “Predictable. You know, Developer Guy acts tough, but he’s a sap in the end. Can spot it a mile away. But I guess I can see how girls might like it.”
“But not you, of course.”
“Nope. Too formulaic. I’ll give it five out of ten snowball fights.”
“Want to watch another?”
Chad paused for a fraction of a second too long, his eyes darting to the stack of DVDs beside the TV. Finally, he shrugged with an unconvincing show of indifference. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. You know, double-check the writing patterns for research.”
“Research purposes?” Daisy couldn’t resist a grin, feeling a strange sense of victory at having broken through Chad’s defenses, even slightly.
“Yeah. Make sure I understand the tropes and stuff.”
“Tropes and stuff?”
“Stop repeating everything I say with that look on your face.”
“What look?” Daisy asked, doing a horrible job of feigning innocence.
“That ‘I know you secretly liked it’ look. I was just studying it for the contest. You know, to learn the craft.”
She grinned a wicked, knowing look. “Of course. The craft. That would explain the little sigh you let out when they finally kissed.”
“That was not a sigh. I was clearing my throat.”
“And how you dabbed your eye when the cat was rescued.” Daisy was having way too much fun with this.
“I had cookie dust in it,” Chad protested.
Just then, Chloe walked in, arms full of art supplies. She stopped dead at the sight of them on the couch, surrounded by empty hot chocolate mugs and cookie plates.
“Hold up.” She set down her supplies, looking between them with exaggerated suspicion. “Are you two still getting along? It’s been two whole days.”
“She’s teaching me about romance,” Chad said, gesturing to the whiteboard and then the TV.
Chloe looked at the frozen image on the TV. It showed Emma and Jake in their final embrace, snowflakes glittering around them. “By watching ‘The Christmas Inn-heritance’?”
“It’s research,” Chad said quickly.
Chloe grinned. “Is that why you’re holding a throw pillow to your chest?”
Chad dropped the pillow like it had suddenly caught on fire. “That was to collect the cookie crumbs.”
“Uh-huh.” Chloe’s grin widened as she walked over and dropped onto the armchair across from them. “You know, they’re gonna make you turn in your man card if word about this gets out. I mean, watching a Hallmark movie voluntarily? Pretty sure that’s an automatic disqualifier.”
“I’ll deny it.”
“I have a witness.”
Chad groaned, sinking further into the couch cushions. “It’s for the contest. And I was just telling Daisy how cheesy and predictable it was.”
Daisy clicked the remote to the menu. “Does that mean you don’t want to watch ‘Snow Globe of Second Chances’? The male lead in it’s a former hockey player.”
“Well…” Chad hesitated, perking up only slightly at the mention of sports. “It would probably be good for you to get some more exposure to sports for your book. And I could use a couple more cookies.”
“I knew it!” Daisy exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You’re enjoying these!”
“Am not!”
“Are too! You almost cried when Mrs. Butterworth’s cat got lost in the snowstorm!”
“It was freezing out,” Chad said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And no, I didn’t. I got cookie dust in my eye.”
Chloe watched them bicker with growing amusement, helping herself to a cookie. “You know what this reminds me of? That scene in ‘The Christmas Inn-heritance’ where they’re arguing about the proper way to hang Christmas lights.”
“The guy had it right,” Chad said, before catching himself after it was already too late. “You need to leave slack between the hooks instead of pulling them tight. Everybody knows that.”
Daisy burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh, you were paying attention!”
“Was not.” Chad grabbed the throw pillow again and flung it at Daisy. It bounced harmlessly off her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Chad,” Chloe said, flopping back into her chair and tucking her feet up. “Your secret’s safe with us. But I’m totally telling Rhino.”
Chad turned to Daisy. “She knows about Rhino?”
“I might have mentioned him among the chaotic influences in your life,” Daisy said with a sly grin as she picked up the remote.
He turned back to Chloe, narrowing his eyes. “I know where you hide your good paintbrushes.”
“And I know you teared up at the inn’s grand reopening,” Daisy said, scrolling through the other movies on the DVD’s menu.
“Did not. I already told you it was cookie dust.”
“Oooh, play ‘Valentine’s Puppy Love’,” Chloe said, reading the movies on the menu.
“Which one’s that?” asked Chad.
“The one with the three-legged puppy,” said Daisy.
Chad folded his arms across his chest. “And you think that’s going to make me cry?”
The girls exchanged mischievous grins with each other and both nodded simultaneously.
“‘Valentine’s Puppy Love’ it is,” Daisy said as she clicked on the movie and sat back.
“I’m telling you guys, I’m immune to three-legged puppies,” Chad said, settling back on the couch. “Completely bulletproof.”
Two hours later, as the credits rolled on ‘Valentine’s Puppy Love,’ Chad was definitely not crying over the three-legged puppy finding his forever home with both the wedding planner and her rival-turned-love-interest. He just had some more cookie dust in his eyes. Maybe an entire cookie.