Home for the Holidays: The Forgetful Bride / When Christmas Comes

“I suppose you’d object to a love story?”

“We can see one if you insist, only…”

“Only what?”

“Only promise me you won’t ever expect a man to say the kinds of things those guys on the screen do.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Women hear actors say this incredible drivel and then they’re disappointed when real men don’t.”

“Real men like you, I suppose?”

“Right.” He looked smug, then suddenly he frowned. “Does Paul like romances?”

Cait had no idea, since she’d never gone on a date with Paul and the subject wasn’t one they’d ever discussed at the office. “I imagine he does,” she said, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “He isn’t the type of man to be intimidated by such things.”

Joe’s deep blue eyes widened with surprise and a touch of respect. “Ouch. So Martin’s little sister reveals her claws.”

“I don’t have claws. I just happen to have strong opinions on certain subjects.” She reached for her purse while she was speaking and removed her wallet.

“What are you doing now?” Joe demanded.

“Paying for lunch.” She sorted through the bills and withdrew a twenty. “It’s my turn and I insist on paying…” She hesitated when she saw Joe’s deepening frown. “Or don’t real men allow women friends to buy their lunch?”

“Sure, go ahead,” he returned flippantly.

It was all Cait could do to hide a smile. She guessed that her gesture in paying for their sandwiches would somehow be seen as compromising his male pride.

Apparently she was right. As they were walking toward the cashier, Joe stepped up his pace, grabbed the check from her hand and slapped some money on the counter. He glared at her as if he expected a drawn-out public argument. After the fuss they’d already caused in the restaurant, Cait was darned if she was going to let that happen.

“Joe,” she argued the minute they were out the door. “What was that all about?”

“Fine, you win. Tell me my views are outdated, but when a woman goes out with me, I pick up the tab, no matter how liberated she is.”

“But this isn’t a real date. We’re only friends, and even that’s—”

“I don’t give a damn. Consider it an apology for the embarrassment I caused you earlier.”

“Isn’t that kind of sexist?”

“No! I just have certain…standards.”

“So I see.” His attitude shouldn’t have come as any big surprise. Just as Cait had told him earlier, he was shockingly predictable.

Hand at her elbow, Joe led the way across the car-filled lot toward the sprawling theater complex. The movies were geared toward a wide audience. There was a Disney classic, along with a horror flick and a couple of adventure movies and last but not least, a well-publicized love story.

As they stood in line, Cait caught Joe’s gaze lingering on the poster for one of the adventure films—yet another story about a law-and-order cop with renegade ideas.

“I suppose you’re more interested in seeing that than the romance.”

“I already promised you could choose the show, and I’m a man of my word. If, however, you were to pick another movie—” he buried his hands in his pockets as he grinned at her appealingly “—I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m willing to pick another movie, but on one condition.”

“Name it.” His eyes lit up.

“I pay.”

“Those claws of yours are out again.”

She raised her hands and flexed her fingers in a catlike motion. “It’s your decision.”

“What about popcorn?”

“You can buy that if you insist.”

“All right,” he said, “you’ve got yourself a deal.”

When it was Cait’s turn at the ticket window, she purchased two for the Disney classic.

“Disney?” Joe yelped, shocked when Cait handed him his ticket.

“It seemed like a good compromise,” she answered.

For a moment it looked as if he was going to argue with her, then a slow grin spread across his face. “Disney,” he said again. “You’re right, it does sound like fun. Only I hope we’re not the only people there over the age of ten.”

They sat toward the back of the theater, sharing a large bucket of buttered popcorn. The theater was crowded and several kids seemed to be taking turns running up and down the aisles. Joe needn’t have worried; there were plenty of adults in attendance, but of course most of them were accompanying children.

The lights dimmed and Cait reached for a handful of popcorn, relaxing in her seat. “I love this movie.”

“How many times have you seen it?”

“Five or six. But it’s been a few years.”

“Me, too.” Joe relaxed beside her, crossing his long legs and leaning back.

The credits started to roll, but the noise level hadn’t decreased much. “Will the kids bother you?” Joe wanted to know.

“Heavens, no. I love kids.”

“You do?” The fact that he was so surprised seemed vaguely insulting and Cait frowned.

“We’ve already had this discussion,” she responded, licking the salt from her fingertips.

“We did? When?”

“The other day. You commented on how much I used to enjoy playing with my dolls and how you’d expected me to be married with a house full of children.” His words had troubled her then, because “a house full of children” was exactly what Cait would have liked, and she seemed a long way from realizing her dream.