The Holiday Switch(54)



Teddy looks at his feet. “It’s all good, Tita.”

“Same here,” I add.

Her shoulders round in relief. “Thank you both for understanding.” She leans in to hug me and Teddy at the same time. “When you’re both at Syracuse, you’ll have to make sure to come visit me often. I’ll miss you both.”





Ms. Velasco’s words don’t catch up to me until I’m inside.

When you’re both at Syracuse, you’ll have to make sure to come visit me often.

When Teddy first arrived at the Bookworm Inn, I’d categorized him as a seasonal worker, someone who’s here temporarily, when there’s actually a great possibility that I will see him after this winter.

If I can afford Syracuse, that is.

It puts all the emotions I feel for him in a different context. It’s like the first snowfall of the year—full of potential.

The clang of metal grabs my attention. Teddy walks in carrying two folded padded chairs under one arm and pillows and blankets under the other. “Courtesy of the Bookworm Inn. Tita Lou was worried that the break room chairs weren’t comfortable to sit on. You can use one as an ottoman. And blankets in case you get cold.”

“Thank you. I’ve got it from here,” I offer. “You’ve got stuff to do.”

    “No way. Tita would kill me if she knew I didn’t make sure you were good.” He rushes ahead to the free library area. “Do you mind if I push this table out of the way?”

“I’m totally fine with that.” But I’m more than fine. To be honest, I’m touched that he thought to ask. “This is a perfect spot.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets after he sets up the chairs. “So whatcha gonna do while you wait?”

I gesture to my backpack. “You know me, I can keep busy.”

“You have a book in there, don’t you?”

“But of course. And I have my phone, which is another reading device.”

“And you can blog from it.”

I eye him.

He laughs. “We’re seriously alone. No one’s going to know.”

“Fine. Yes. I am going to blog.”

“I’m interested to see what Christmas story you read next. Who knew there were holiday cozy mysteries and thrillers? Not just the romances everyone knows about.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to choose, with so many indie and self-pubbed books in addition to books published by big publishing houses.” I peer at him. “Wait a sec. How many of my posts have you read?”

“Um…most.”

“Most?” My face heats.

“Okay, all. I mean, if you’re going to start a blog, isn’t that what it’s for? For people to read it?”

“I…” Of course, I know that. I knew that. “I don’t usually discuss my blog with anyone.”

“I guess it would make sense, since you’re keeping it a secret.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I like your blog’s format. You ask great questions. They get to the heart of the book. Also, I love your pros and cons. I like how you categorize the sidebar, so I can go straight to genre. It’s…organized, much like you. I actually picked up a couple of books you recommended.”

    This fact makes my brain go fuzzy. “You picked up books I recommended?”

“Yeah, I sent gift ebooks to my mom for Christmas.”

Here’s the thing, in the twenty-three months I’ve blogged, I have never really seen the result of it. Yes, I get the comments on my posts. But I’ve never had someone, in person, tell me that I’ve helped them pick out a book.

I’m flummoxed. I don’t know what to do with this information. “That’s…nice.” I wince at my lack of articulate words. “I’m actually really honored.”

His phone in his hand lights up. Moment over.

“I guess I should go?” He takes a step back. But he hesitates, like he doesn’t want to.

The question in his tone spurs me forward. I like that he’s waiting for a sign from me.

“Unless…” I look at my phone. “I mean, do you want to hang out? I know you have to climb in the morning.”

“I do have practice, but I can move it.”

“Okay.” But inside, I’m anything but okay. We’re alone, and my feelings for him are stronger than ever, and what do I do with that?

The heater clicks on, and the icicle lights we put up sway from the blast of the warm vent air. It spurs an idea.

“Are you still down for doing something for Mission: Holly?”

He brightens. “Yeah, sure.”

    “By all means, have a seat.” I gesture to one of the chairs. “Close your eyes.”

His eyebrows lift.

“Do you trust me?”

Slowly, he shuts his eyes. “Yes,” he says without hesitation.

His answer awakens the butterflies in my belly. I gulp.

In my silence he adds, “I mean, you did catch me while ice-skating.”

I smile. “Keep them shut.” I turn the corner of the nearest bookshelf and pick out the perfect thing that will pass the time. I pluck it out of its case and slip it into the gift shop’s entertainment system. With the remote control, I press PLAY.

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