Page 27 of The Kiss Class

Back on Golden Bantam Lane, the house smells like cinnamon and citrus from mulling spices, making me want to do Christmas stuff rather than give Anna and Ilsa all the details. It doesn’t help that Pierre had a slight cinnamon-spicy scent. Whether I’m in a sugar-induced psychosis from the doughnuts or riding the high of my first kiss, I stick withthe story and spew everything that Pierre and I told Dadaszek.

They lap up the lies. I take a sip of cider, hoping it’ll burn away the guilt of keeping up this charade.

Anna’s eyes are as big as the jumbo oatmeal cookies on the counter. “So, you and Pierre Arsenault? You minx!”

“What’s a minx?” I ask.

“It’s in the otter and ferret family,” Anna adds a few other facts about Mustelidae.

Ilsa claws the air and makes aRrarrsound.

“That’s not what I was going for.”

She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “That seems to be what Pierre is looking for.”

I tell them about the promise he made in Dad’s office. “But I don’t buy it. Things are over between us.” And I’d like to put this entire fake affair behind me.

Anna says. “And that’s why we need to find you a guy.”

I shake my head slowly and inwardly groan because my plan instantly backfired. The whole point of continuing the fake relationship charade was to get them off my back. My phone beeps with a message.

“Is that Nolan?” Ilsa asks, reaching for my device.

Holding it away from her, I say, “Given my recent, um, relationship hiccup, we decided to be text pals.”

Ilsa snorts a laugh through her nose. “That’s the dorkiest thing I’ve ever heard. Maybe you’re meant for each other.”

Anna shakes her head. “Perhaps that’s for the best since you and Pierre are today’s ‘it’ couple.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about things with Pierre. But I’m off the market. No more playing Cupid and her evil twin.” I poke each of them in the shoulder and inwardly give myself one, too for the big fat fibs.

I’m terrified to open my phone and see photos of Pierreand me under the Merry Kiss Me sign on social media. But it was a great first kiss and we made a great team today. However, I cannot imagine what my father said to him after I left the office.

Sure enough, the text is from Nolan. While Ilsa and Anna return to help the guys fetch the Christmas decorations from the attic, I drop onto the stool at the center island.

Knight in Shining Armor: The good times just keep on rolling. I had the wackiest morning. Almost lost my job. Thankfully, I got a second chance. I hope your day is better than mine so far!

Me: Yikes! That would not be a very nice Christmas gift. I’m glad everything worked out. Tonight, we’re decorating the house and tomorrow, we get our tree unless things get postponed. Everyone is so busy this year. But it’s always fun. Is your tree up yet?

Knight in Shining Armor: I haven’t had one of those in years.

Me: Not even a mini tree?

Knight in Shining Armor: Not so much as a twig.

Me: You should definitely do something about that.

At first, it felt like I was texting a stranger. Even in this short amount of time, it feels like we’re becoming friends, and I appreciate that. If I didn’t live in Los Angeles, I’d consider giving him a chance because I think I’d like a guy like Nolan—someone sweet, with a sense of humor, and who doesn’t go around kissing everything that moves. Ahem, Pierre.

That said, I did kiss him back. I slap my hand over my mouth as last night fully catches up with me. I kissed a stranger. I’ve certainly spiced things up in the twenty-four hours that I’ve been home. Never saw this much activity in Cobbiton until now.

He and I exchange a few more messages. I can’t help but think being text pals is for the best. If Nolan almost lost his job as the Zamboni driver, that must mean Dad is on a tear. I don’t want to see any heads roll. Pierre’s rescue PDA landed him in hot water, but I think we turned down the heat . . . or not because I cannot stop thinking about our kiss and wouldn't object to a second one.

Dare I say Pierre was a pro? Could have something to do with him beingFrenchCanadian. I could use a tutorial or two. He’d make a great tutor. It could be a private lesson.

An idea . . . of a kissing class takes root.

Like California poppies, my bad decisions have been self-propagating.

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