Page 125 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“That sounds nice.” I’d rather be with them, to be honest, but it would be rude to say so. Still, I take another step closer.

“You’d rather be with them,” she says, her expression smug. “I can see right through you.”

Some residual anger from the other night, the terrible Not-Santa night, bubbles back up. “Good. Then maybe you can fill me in on what, exactly, I can do to make my life not suck. I’m all ears.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” she says with a smile, her teeth sharp and almost feral. “I’m starting a new Bad Luck Club, and I want you to be my first sponsee.”

I know what she’s talking about. Actually, anyone with an internet connection would probably know what she’s talking about. Molly’s boyfriend, Cal, and his father, Bear, started a club to help down-on-their-luck people turn their lives around. It became kind of a media sensation, what with someone stealing their idea and writing a bestselling book about it. Molly was the one who revealed them as the true creators, and since then it’s gained even more of a following—with Bear appearing on a major talk show to tell his story.

So, yeah, I know about the Bad Luck Club.

But my life’s notthatbad, is it? I’m floundering, yes, but I have a good job, I have a roof over my head, and I’ve never struggled to put food on my son’s plate. I’m doing okay when it comes to the things that matter.

I venture to say so, and Nicole laughs in my face.

“Someone’s always going to have it worse, but from where I’m sitting, you need plenty of help. You’re a single mother with a special-needs child. You probably haven’t had an orgasm in five years, and you’ve only been drunk twelve and a half times. Oh, and your parents died when your little sister was only seventeen. Molly needed a guardian, and she chose to stay with your middle sister rather than you. Does that about sum it up?”

God, when she puts it that way…

Did I tell her all of that on Thanksgiving, or does she know some of it from Molly? I feel a little pulse of anxiety at the thought of Molly having shared so much. Does Nicole also know about our dad?

Before our parents died, Molly found out that he was cheating on our mom. She tried to tell me back then, but I refused to listen to her, even though I knew she was probably right. Mom had confided in me in ways she hadn’t confided in my sisters, and I knew how much she’d struggled with Dad’s flightiness. Yeah, some big sister I’ve been. I told myself I was protecting her and Maisie, that I was doing and saying what my mother would have wanted, but maybe I just didn’t feel capable of dealing with another heartache. Molly and I have healed our relationship, mostly, but I haven’t forgiven myself. Ishouldn’tforgive myself, for that and a whole filing cabinet’s worth of other things.

Still, that’s not how I respond to Nicole. For some unearthly reason, I sputter, “Please. Five years ago? Try never.”

My alarm bells go off instantly. I shouldn’t have told her that. It’sinsanefor me to have told her that. I don’t know this woman at all. For all I know, she could have snuck onto Molly’s property both times I’ve talked to her. Maybe she’s a complete stranger who’s stalking me. Like Jennifer Jason Leigh’s character inSingle White Female.

Please, Mary. Who would want to steal your life?

Nicole’s eyes widen, and then her mouth stretches into an even bigger, scarier smile.

“Oh, we’re going to have fun,” she says.

CHAPTER FOUR

JACE

My apartment is quiet, just like it always is, but the energy feels off tonight, like the quiet is louder than before.

My laughter breaks the silence, because that’s a stupid-ass thought—even if it rings true—and it’s such an Asheville thing to think. Energies, auras, inner peace, yada, yada, yada. I’ve probably just absorbed too much of the energy around me in this city, no pun intended.

Yet there’s no denying I feel lonelier tonight than I have in a long time.

I shouldn’t have met Mary and Aidan for hot chocolate. It was an impulsive decision, much like most of my worst mistakes. Still, it doesn’t feel like a mistake.

Mary O’Shea intrigues me more than she has a right to. Far more than any woman has in a very long time. But there’s no denying she’s one of the most uptight women I’ve ever met. She probably has her cereal dumped into labeled plastic containers neatly lined up on a shelf and a color-coded calendar on her phone. She’s the kind of woman who cares what other people think about her and her son, and to be honest, women like that have never interested me. I don’t need a woman to micromanage me.

So why the hell am I thinking about her as anything other than the mother of my buddy?

Aidan reminds me so much of Ben it hurts. So deep in his head he’s not sure how to get out. When he mentioned that the only milk that’s good for human consumption is breast milk, I nearly lost it. Until I saw Mary’s creamy cheeks turn pink. It would take a stronger man than me not to think of her breasts flushing that way too.

I knew right then that I should make my excuses and go. But I didn’t. And then Mary ran up to me after we said goodbye, her cheeks pink again, her eyes warm, and said something to me that obviously wasn’t planned. I can’t deny that sharpened my interest. Because what would it be like to help a woman like her lose control? What would it be like to be the man who made her lose her mind?

There’s a rapping at my front door, and I look up from a Hungry-Man frozen dinner on my thrift store kitchen table. A small smile lifts my lips. I don’t bother answering—this particular guest doesn’t expect an engraved invitation—and, sure enough, it opens and in comes Roger, my eighty-seven-year-old neighbor from across the hall.

Bingo, stretched out on the back of the couch, watches him enter with a look of disdain. Then again, I think that look is permanently frozen onto his face.

“What kind of dinner is that?” Roger asks hopefully, leaving the door ajar behind him. I could ask him to close it, but I don’t. There’s a chance Mrs. Rosa will drop in as well, and this way I won’t have to get up to let her in. It won’t hurt to leave the door open. Bingo thinks he has it too good here to try to escape.

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