Page 17 of Holiday Crush
“Bingo!” Martha Montero jumped from her chair and blew kisses. “Court Henderson, you’re my lucky charm! Woohoo!”
“He’s mine too. Bingo!” Tom Fillmore yelled.
“Marry me, Court!” someone else called.
“No, he’s marrying me!”
Laughter reverberated through the hall and broke the proverbial ice. Court turned an adorable shade of fuchsia. He rolled his eyes and bent his head before gesturing for everyone to settle down. “Take a number.”
That ignited a whole new round of hilarity and suddenly…Court was the Bingo MC of Elmwood’s dreams. It wasn’t an immediate transformation by any means, but after three rounds, he held his head high, recited numbers like a boss, flirted with women our moms’ ages, and traded jokes with old-timers and the few teenagers who’d stayed.
Two hours flew by in the usual madness of harried rushing around, but it was fun.Courtwas fun. He became more at ease as the evening wore on—less self-conscious and uptight. It was like watching a turtle slowly poke its head from its shell. Fascinating.
As the evening wrapped up, I watched him navigate a few conversations with parents of high school friends who’d wanted to catch up with him and, in a couple of instances, take selfies.
Maybe it was the spiked lemonade, though I didn’t see him drink much. Or maybe he’d finally realized that everyone was here for their version of a good time, and that there was nothing but goodwill in this building.
“Well? What did you think?” I asked, shrugging my full-length black wool coat on. I pulled my beanie from my pocket and shoved it onto my head, tucking stray curls into place before slinging my backpack over my shoulder.
“I think you need a reflector belt,” he commented offhandedly, tipping his chin at my coat. “You’re going to blend into the night like a black cat.”
“Me? Blend in? Take that back.” I swatted him with the fringe of my Burberry scarf and draped it around my neck. “I’m bringing a touch of class to my monochrome wardrobe tonight. And…I’ll take my chances on the mean streets of Elmwood.”
Court fell into step beside me, waving to Kathy and Faith on our way to the exit. “Me too. Where do you live?”
“On Willow. I bought the bungalow next to Mrs. Fitzsimmons. It’s tiny and it needs a lot of work, but it’s mine.”
“Court, honey, hang on!” Kathy called after us, and the tiny whirlwind of a woman with a short bob and funky blue eyeshadow popped in front of Court, digging her manicured talons into his leather jacket. “You were a godsend and a star up there tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“We couldn’t have done it without him, could we, Ivan?” Kathy asked, not bothering to look at me. “I texted Kyle that selfie we took earlier, and he told me he googled your name and said you weren’t playing pro anymore. Now, if you’re sad about that, don’t be. You’re gonna bounce back just fine. We’re all rooting for you. Oh, and Kyle says hi. He lives in New York City with his wife and their new baby girl. He’s got a fancy Wall Street job that keeps him far too busy, but I’m hoping he’ll be home for the holidays. If so, you’ll have to get together for sure.”
“For sure. Thanks, Mrs. Anderson,” he said politely.
“Call me Kathy, hon.” She kissed his cheek and skipped away in a Chardonnay-fueled haze.
“I will never call her Kathy,” Court whispered, holding the door open.
I bumped his shoulder in unspoken support and led the way out. “Her flask was obviously bigger than mine.”
“No doubt.” Court chuckled as we hit the sidewalk and headed south on Main Street.
It was a cool evening with wispy clouds streaked across the sky and just the sliver of moon visible on the horizon. There was a crispness in the air that reminded me of the impending holidays. I sucked in a deep breath and smiled when we reached the corner at Blossom. I lived four blocks away and I knew for a fact that the Hendersons lived three blocks in the opposite direction.
“I’m going this way.”
Court furrowed his brow. “Oh. Right. I, uh…I can walk you the rest of the way if you want.”
“It is kind of dark and creepy out tonight, so…sure, thanks. And thanks again for tonight. That was seriously so cool of you.”
He shrugged. “No problem. It was…”
“Fun!” I interjected. “Admit it. You had fun.”
His lips quirked at the corners as he glanced away, tilting his head to the heavens. Geez-fucking-Louise, he was stunning. Sharp chin, sculpted cheekbones, manly beard, and a broody, moody aura. I might have left my old crush in the past where it belonged, but I had eyes, dammit.
“It wasn’t terrible. I remember coming as a kid and…I remember you,” he said softly. “You were quiet, though. And you wore eyeliner and dyed your hair funky colors. It was pretty edgy for Elmwood.”