Page 41 of The Holiday Games

But she’ll be on a train the next morning, and I’ll be on the road with Greg, driving him up to his new home in Vermont. Maybe Caroline will accept an invitation to make the drive with me, instead of hopping the train, but we’ll only have three hours in the car together before our time is through.

That won’t be nearly as much fun as a day romping around the city.

Even if Greg manages to avoid getting carsick, the way he does every time we make the journey to my vacation home in Maine, he’ll monopolize her time and attention. He likes to ride in the passenger’s seat, so he can prop his paws up on the window and hiss at the cars driving by. He takes far too much joy in terrorizing people at seventy miles per hour to stay in his bed in the backseat.

He’ll be crouched on Caroline’s lap, purring while she pets him, and I’ll be the third wheel chauffer who’s botched his chance to win the girl.

No, the tour willnotbe cancelled. The tour will continue as planned…right after I apologize to Caroline and beg her forgiveness for throwing her to the wolves.

She’ll forgive me?

Right?

It’s my last thought before Caroline grabs a pitcher of water from the craft table and storms across the tent toward Jenna.

seventeen

. . .

Caroline

Iwant to strangle this woman.

Literally.

As I charge across the catering tent, I have vivid fantasies involving the purple sash on her black spiderweb dress wrapped around her pale white throat.

How dare she stalk me on the dark web! What on earth does she plan to do with the information she found? Is she going to open a credit card in my name? Take out a loan? Leak news of my weird ingrown hair that had to be surgically removed to the press?

The hair thing would actually bother me. A lot. Having an ingrown hair of that size and stubbornness is embarrassing! And at the time, I’d thought I had cancer or a tumor. It was upsetting.

Upsetting andprivate.

That’s the part that has steam coming out of my ears. This woman, thisstranger, violated my privacy without a second thought, all because she wants to win a dumb reality show.

Well, I’ll show her. I’ll show her exactly how far you get on a hospitality-themed show with that kind of behavior.

Skidding to a stop beside her table, I coo to the transportation director she’s been flirting with all day, “Excuse me, Kyle, I need a moment with Jenna. In private.”

“This should be good,” Jenna says, turning my way with grin just like the Grinch’s after he stole the roast beast. “Shoot, Goody Two-Shoes. But FYI, there’s no ‘private’ in reality show television. Whatever you have to say, you’re going to have to say it, loud and proud, for all the world to hear.” Her lips push into a patronizing pout. “Does that scare you? If so, you can run away with your tail between your legs.” Her grin returns with a wicked vengeance. “Isn’t that what your doctor thought your ingrown hair was at first? The remnants of a vestigial tail or something?”

Matching her slimy smile with a wider, brighter one of my own, I say, “I just wanted you to know that I’ll be freezing my credit as soon as I get to my laptop. To protect myself against identity theft.”

“As if I’d want your identity.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re safe, Goody, don’t worry. I have a life; I don’t need to steal a pathetic one like yours. I can’t believe you’ve never even been pulled over for speeding. Who’s that squeaky clean at thirty-four?”

“Well, that isn’t exactly right, Jenna,” I say, positioning the pitcher over her nearly empty glass. “I’ve never been ticketed, no, but I’ve been pulled over loads of times.” I begin to pour the water in a thin, threatening stream, my eyes locked on hers. “I love to speed, actually. It’s one of my favorite things and practically a necessity when you live thirty minutes from the closest grocery store. Or pharmacy. Or gas station. I have to drive thirty minutes to get gas, Jenna. Do you know what that makes me?”

Her lips part, but I push on before she can speak, still pouring, “Prepared. It makes me the kind of person who isalwaysprepared. Prepared for an emergency, prepared to talk my way out of a ticket with the skill of a used car salesman,and prepared to handle any hospitality issue my job or this competition can throw at me without breaking a sweat.” My eyes bore into hers as the glass nears the overflow point. “I’m going to bury you, and I’m going to do it with a smile on my face and holiday spirit in my heart.”

I tip the pitcher upright with a split second to spare, leaving the glass perfectly topped off. “But if you stick your nose into my private business again, I’ll also be hiring a lawyer to sue you in every violent, invasive way a person can be sued. Because that’s my kink, Spooky, making sure bad actors get what they deserve. Justice is sexy, don’t you think? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go rest up for my spa appointment tomorrow. While you’re slogging through a losers’ challenge, I’ll be getting a massage. I hope you have the day you deserve.”

Without another word, I turn and glide back across the tent, weaving my way through the tables with my head held high. Behind me, I hear Jenna mutter something beneath her breath, but she seems to have lost the gumption to give me grief me at full volume.

Good.

I hope she takes our littletête-à-têteto heart because I meant every word, especially the suing part. Kayla’s father is a shark of a lawyer who doesn’t hesitate to unleash his litigious zeal on anyone who dares to mess with his daughter or her friends. One phone call, and Dave will have a terrifying cease and desist letter headed Jenna’s way.

The thought sends guilt winding through my chest. I haven’t checked in with Kayla since the night of the first challenge. Yes, I’ve been busy, but I’ve had ample time to respond to her texts asking how things are going.

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