Page 109 of The Very Naughty List

I’m so lost inside my head that I don’t notice my sister trying to get my attention until she jabs me in the side with her elbow.

“Sorry.” I yank my gaze away from the Cooper brothers before anyone can notice me staring. “I was just thinking. Must be the mulled wine. What did you say?”

“I just prompted us with a never have I ever. Want me to repeat it?”

“Yes, please.”

My sister flashes me a shit-eating grin, then says, “Never have I ever had a four-way.”

My heart stops.Oh, no she fucking didn’t.

“A four-way?” Grandma Dee looks slightly confused. “Like a four-way radio? Do they even make such a thing?”

Pippa stifles a giggle and waits for me to respond, looking pointedly at the glass of mulled wine in my hand.

But instead of taking a drink, I pick up one of the little throw pillows on the couch and whack her with it. She yelps, dissolving into laughter, and Grandma Dee looks at both of us like we’d lost our damn minds.

“No, Grandma,” Pippa informs her, blocking another blow from the throw pillow as a few people glance our way. “It’s not a radio. Let’s see…” She ducks again, pursing her lips and shooting me a look. “How would you describe a four-way, Hailey?”

“You little brat.” I drop the pillow and roll my eyes. “Grandma, it’s not a radio. It’s something dirty.”

It suddenly dawns on Grandma Dee what Pippa was talking about, and her eyebrows shoot up, her mouth forming a little ‘o’ shape. I flush, but I can’t stop myself from chuckling a little as Pippa cackles. Grandma Dee starts to laugh too, and it isn’t long before the three of us are giggling like children.

It actually feels good to laugh like this, a moment of normalcy and levity that actually does manage to break me out of my thoughts for a while.

I poke Pippa in the side when we finally get ourselves back under control, but she just gives me an innocent look and throws her arms around me, pulling me in close for a hug.

“Love you, sis,” she singsongs, and I grudgingly hug her back.

“Love you too. Brat.”

The game continues, and after a few more raucous rounds—during which my sister behaves, thank goodness—I tell them to go on without me while I get a refill of wine.

I walk past the Cooper brothers, flashing Reid a quick smile, then head into the kitchen. But I stop short as I enter.

My mom is standing near the stove, and my dad has one arm around her as he speaks to her in a low voice. I have a sudden flashback to when I walked in on my parents in the kitchen at the diner, and just like then, my stomach drops.

“Oh my gosh, what’s wrong?”

I race into the room, and they both look up. My mom wipes at her eyes, a guilty look flashing across her face, as if she feels bad for crying at her own holiday party when she’d normally be playing the happy hostess.

But I don’t care about that. I care about what’s got her so upset—especially because I’m pretty sure I know what it is.

“It’s the Montgomerys, isn’t it?” I demand. “What did they do now?”

My mom shakes her head, fluttering one hand toward the door. “Sweetheart, everything is fine. Go back out and enjoy the party. Your father and I were just getting a few things to bring out to the refreshments table.”

“Bullshit.” I don’t budge. “You can tell me. This involves me too, and I want to save the diner as much as you do. Please.”

My voice drops a little on the last word, and my mom sighs, her shoulders sinking as she seems to deflate a little.

“The grant isn’t going to work out,” she admits quietly. “And it’s looking like the Montgomerys are going to raise our rent again in the new year.”

“We think they’re trying to force us out,” my dad tells me, anger coloring his voice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this pissed off. “They want to develop that block, and they probably think they could get a more lucrative deal if they tore down the diner and replaced it with something else. So they’re squeezing us.”

“Can you just move the diner?” I ask, crossing my arms as my mind races. That building has been the location of the diner for years, and I hate the idea of them losing it, but they could try to start over somewhere else. “Find another location?”

“We’re looking into it.” My dad isn’t crying like my mom, but he looks beaten down and grim, the friendly ease he greeted us all with earlier gone. “But the Montgomerys own a lot of the prime real estate around town, so it won’t be easy.”

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