Page 11 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“For one thing, she’s on a dating show calledMatchmaking the Rich,” I say, annoyed, although I’m not sure who’s done the annoying. “She’s hardly going to throw her panties at a handyman who moonlights as a fireman.”

“This is your problem,” Holly says. “You expect women to up and throw their panties at you.” She eats a fry. “Sometimes you need to work for the good things, bub. They’re not just goingto climb onto your lap like that one woman I walked in on you with.”

“Christ, are you ever going to let that go?” I ask. I’ve only brought one woman home since she moved in. One. And she’s never let me forget it. We were making out on the couch when Holly crept into the room with a baseball bat, thinking I was an intruder. “Besides, what would be the polite way to acquire a woman’s panties? Go through her drawers and steal them? Ask nicely to borrow them? Because I’m pretty sure either of those things would make me a sexual predator.”

She gives me heryou’re impossiblelook. Cole watches with us with amusement, then kisses her again—I look away—and takes off toward the bar with the tray.

“I mean it,” Holly tells me, and I don’t doubt she does. “I’m starting to think you should pillage the show and save the princess.”

“You play too many video games.”

“Accurate.”

My friend Oliver, whom I texted after leaving the Labelles’ place, enters through the front and approaches our table. He’s wearing a scarf his mother knitted for him and a beanie hat over his dark hair, but he pulls it off as he approaches us. It’s a Thursday night, and there’s a pretty decent crowd.

Oliver would have been better off if he hadn’t come back to town, but now that he’s here, he’s stuck. His father is sick, and he’s not the kind of guy to stay away and watch him die from a distance, even if his dad has made it clear that he’ll never approve of him. No, he’s the kind of guy who’ll chuck his whole life just to support the people he cares about. Lucky for him—or not, depending on your perspective—he works in marketing, and he’s talented enough that his boss agreed to let him work remotely. He’s staying indefinitely, and that means I’m determined to make things as good for him as possible.

“Hey, man,” I say, standing and giving him a backslap when he reaches our table.

“Cupid!”

I make a face. I’m less than fond of my nickname, but what can you do?

“How’s the sabotage going?” Oliver continues, grinning as he loosens his scarf.

Goddammit. I take a glance around again, but there’s still no one paying attention to us.

“We can’t just openly talk about this,” I say, as he sits down next to Holly, who scooted aside to make room. “Some people think the show is a good thing for this town.” Namely, the people who stand to make money off it.

He shrugs without much concern. “So what do you want to talk about? My mother wants me to chop down a Christmas tree at Ralph’s for her this weekend. So that’ll be a whole thing.” He gives me a pointed look. “You want to come?”

“To chop your tree? No, thanks.”

“To chop your own, asshole. I figured you could get one for your house.”

“Yes, please,” Holly says. “I’m really feeling the Christmas spirit this year. And maybe you can sneak a contraband pine bough over to the Labelles’ house so Kennedy isn’t completely cut off from Christmas. Tina says she’s bummed by the lack of Christmassy things.”

“Then she shouldn’t have volunteered for the show,” I say, trying to sound more severe than I feel. My mind supplies an image of her wistful expression as she talked about Christmas and the way the holiday was completely absent from the Labelles’ house. Still, it occurs to me that the tree outing is a potential opportunity.

Oliver has been lonely since returning to Highland Hills. There’s not much of a dating scene here for anyone, and there’sprobably only five or six openly gay men Oliver’s age, tops. We met Harry in Asheville earlier this year, while paying a visit to my sister Willow. There were some sparks between them, I thought. Or at least I caught Oliver looking at him appreciatively a few times.

I’m not playing matchmaker. Obviously. I’mnota matchmaker.

But Oliver could use some more friends, is all. He just moved back to town a year and a half ago, and his dad has been steadily getting worse. The situation at home isn’t easy, and whenever you’re in the thick of something not easy, it’s better to share it.

“Let’s go on Sunday,” I say, knowing it’s a day off for the people on the production. I’m fairly sure my grandmother wouldn’t give anyone a day off if she had her way, but in this one thing, she doesn’t. It’s in the cameramen’s contracts. Harry will be free to join us.

“You got it,” Oliver says, although he’s giving me a look that suggests he knows I’m up to something, even if he’s not quite sure what. That look is mirrored on Holly’s face.

“You’re really going to chop down a Christmas tree for us?” she asks wistfully. “Isn’t that something.”

“Let’s not make a big deal about it,” I grump. “It’s not like I’m a total grinch. I go to Ralph’s all the time.”

Oliver and Holly exchange a look and have a good laugh at my expense.

CHAPTER FOUR

KENNEDY

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