Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“It’s deli…” I hear a crunch, and her eyebrows fly upwards.
“You found it!” I exclaim. “The lucky almond. Congratulations.”
She covers her smile with one hand. “I hope you weren’t counting on it.”
“No.” I am already lucky. “Maybe you need it more.”
“Maybe.” She makes a face. “Although it would be fair to argue that luck isn’t what held me back last year. I think stupidity was the problem.”
“Hey—take it easy on yourself for Christmas?” I suggest. “I am trying to have a lucky meal here. What movie are we watching?”
“Have you seen Home Alone?”
“No, I do not think so.”
“Then we have to fix that right away,” she announces.
It is a very funny movie about a little boy who does not have his family with him for Christmas. I know the feeling. But today I do not mind.
After the movie, we go upstairs, carrying the ham that I’ve baked and Chiara’s bottle of wine. There is a big room on one end of the topmost floor, and the team has rented it out for our party.
“Ivo!” our captain yells as I step into the room. “You cooked a ham? And who is your lovely date?”
A dozen heads swivel in our direction. “Dude, Ivo has a date?” someone asks. And someone else makes a cat call sound.
“I told you it was casual,” I grumble. “Guys, this is Chiara. She was responsible for helping my English go from miserable to only very bad last year.”
There is a round of laughter, but then Heidi Jo skips forward and offers Chiara a glass of champagne. “Are you an English teacher?” she asks.
“No,” Chiara says with a shy smile. “I was his favorite waitress at my family’s café, and he used to come in for lunch three times a week.”
“The food must be excellent there,” Heidi Jo says with a wink. “It’s lovely to meet you. How do you feel about playing poker?”
“I love poker,” Chiara says.
“Be careful, she is a shark,” I insist.
After that, the party is easy. There are games and there is a giant amount of food and drink. “It’s nice meeting your teammates,” she says as Heidi Jo shuffles the deck with the flair of a dealer in Las Vegas. “Who knew Tank would wear a baby carrier on his days off?”
“Right?” Georgia, our publicist exclaims. “Men look extra hot wearing babies on their chests.”
“I will bear that in mind,” I say, and everyone laughs.
“Your English really did get better last year,” Castro says. “How’d you do that, Chiara?”
“I quizzed him every time I saw him,” she says with a shrug. “He is motivated by desserts.”
Another laugh. And the time just flies by. This party is twice as fun for me this year as it was last year. Having Chiara at my side is a big part of it.
Being able to understand what my teammates say doesn’t hurt, either.
The party ends before I’m ready. Suddenly it is time to help stack the plates and cups. I’m filled with a new kind of anticipation, though, as Chiara collects her handbag. We say our goodnights, and then we walk down the building’s stairwell together to reach my floor.
I realize we’ve fallen silent as I unlock my apartment. “What else do Finns do on Christmas Eve?” Chiara asks.
“Oh, a great many things. Now I must pour you a small glass of Finnish brandy flavored with cloudberries. And then we wait for the Christmas Goat.”
“The…sorry?”
I smile at the look on her face. “It’s true. Our word for Santa Claus really means Christmas Goat. Don’t ask.” I follow her into the apartment, acutely aware that we’re alone again. “Chiara, I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Thank you for today.”
“Today was the best,” she says softly. She lifts her dark eyes to mine. “Seeing you again has made me so happy.”
“Come and taste the cloudberry brandy,” I say, taking her by the hand. “We will end the night with a toast.” At the kitchen counter, I find two little glasses and pour a modest amount of liquor into each one. “What shall we toast?”
“To our lucky new year,” she says, raising her glass. “Both of us.”
We drink, and I hold her dark eyes. “But you found the almond,” I remind her. “All the luck belongs to you.”
“Not in English,” she says firmly. She sets her glass down, and puts a hand in the center of my chest. “Maybe you’ve heard this idiom—getting lucky?”
I chuckle, as my skin heats beneath her hand. “I do know that one. Yes. The boys speak of this a lot.”
“See, that takes two people.” She gives an exaggerated shrug. “Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”
I clasp a hand over hers. “You are a very smart girl. I knew it the first time I saw you.”
“That’s what you were thinking about?” she asks with a soft smile. “My intelligence quotient? I could have sworn you were staring at my ass.”