Page 14 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

It’s thoughtful of him to check. Then again, he saw what it took for the makeup artist to help me get into it.

“Yeah, please,” I say, feeling a lump in my throat. It’s a sense of longing, but I’m not entirely sure what for, unless it’s that image of Olive and the movie fest.

There isn’t even any cable or internet here, as if the producers are determined to keep us iced out from the outside world.

Harry comes in, a big smile on his face, but it wobbles when he sees me.

He shuts the door behind him. “What is it? Did one of those jerks hurt you?”

A genuine smile crosses my face. I’m so glad he’s here. If it were only Nana, I don’t think I could hack it.

“No, nothing like that. I guess I’m just a little lonely.”

“Spoiler alert. We’re bringing Tina and Zach in for a family visit next Friday, so there’s that to look forward to.”

Laughter spills out of me. “Zach’s going to hate that. He’s going to hatethem.”

“Yeah, probably,” Harry admits. “You know, you can use my phone again if you want to,” he offers immediately. “Just don’t tell Nana. That woman scares the shit out of me.”

A laugh rips out of me. “Yeah, me too.”

“No one would know it,” he says, grinning at me again. “You were awesome back there, saying it’s her fault as your matchmaker if all the guys suck.” He pulls a face. “They’re not all terrible, are they? Colton’s pretty to look at. And Marcus, although he’s too blond for my taste. The winners are almost never blond, huh? It’s like there’s this universal taste in men,and we were all born liking them tall, dark, and handsome.” He pulls a face as he touches a hand to his own pale hair.

I try to smile and fail. “Yeah. You’re right. They’re both really good looking. It’s just…I don’t feel a spark, you know?”

He lets out a sigh. “I feel you there. I met a guy who was perfect on paper before I moved here. I mean, a lot of the guys I’ve dated have had about two dozen red flags each, but this guy had, like, five max. Anyway, I digress. There just wasn’t anything there.” He makes a face. “You can’t make something out of nothing, Kennedy. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun. Who knows,” his smile turns sly, “maybe Jonah Highbury the Fifth will grow on you.”

“If I tell you Jonah’s growing on me, promise to slap me awake,” I say, lifting my mass of hair over my shoulder and motioning for him to go around and free me from the dress.

I’m in front of the mirror, just like I was that day with Rowan, and I feel a weird sense of déjà vu that has a razor’s edge of regret. Which is just stupid. The only thing I like about Rowan is that he’s direct and real. That he’s not one of the egotistical jerks his grandmother chose for me.

I sigh, my gaze falling to the bed and the Santa Babe pants. “You know what, Harry? I wish it were Christmas around here.”

He shoots me a conflicted look in the mirror, his fingers tapping the zipper of my dress before he swoops it down in one elegant pull. Turning his back so I can change, he says, “You know, if you were sick tomorrow, I’m betting no one would come in here to check on you. Especially if you said you had something gross, like food poisoning.” He pauses. “There’s maybe a thirty-five percent chance Marcus would check on you, but if you texted him to say you didn’t want him to because it wouldn’t be romantic, he’d probably stay away. Or if you told him you had violent diarrhea.”

I laugh as I pull on my Santa Babe pants. “What are you getting at, Harry?” The shirt goes on next, and already I feel so much better. I’m more myself like this—more Kennedy, less Littlefield. “You can turn back around,” I tell him.

He does, and he gives his buzzed hair a nervous-seeming scrub before he says, “You can’t tell anyone.”

Now I’m intrigued.

“Tell them what?”

“I’m going to sneak you out. Rowan invited me to go to a Christmas tree farm with him and his friend.”

“Rowan?” I say with a gasp.

He gives me a searching look. “Don’t you like him? He’s kind of gruff, but I’ve concluded that’s mostly bluster. I’m pretty sure they’ll have hot chocolate.” He purses his mouth to the side while he waits for my answer and shuffles a little on his feet. It strikes me that he’s nervous.

“Are you worried we’re going to get caught?”

An amused sound escapes him. “Absolutely, yes, and we’re going to have to establish a safe word in case either of us gets an inkling that things are going south. But in the Christmas spirit of honesty, I should mention that I wouldn’t mind having you there for personal reasons.”

I could tell him that I’m pretty sure honesty has nothing to do with the Christmas spirit, but I’d rather find out what he means.

“Personal reasons?”

He makes a face. “Rowan’s best friend Oliver.”

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