Page 20 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

Which is why I say, “Harry’s my roommate, Ethel. That’s why he doesn’t need a tree.” I clear my throat. “And this is my friend,” I add, setting my drink on the counter and putting an arm around Kennedy’s back. She jolts like a shying horse but doesn’t throw me off. Still, she seems about as into it as if Ralph had wrapped one of his ham-hock arms around her.

“She’s just here for the weekend,” I say with a pasted-on smile.

I put the right amount of insinuation behind it, and Ethel grins. “Say no more.”

Which is exactly why I did it. Two strangers acting weird with Rowan Mayberry and Oliver Perez might be worth some gossip on a slow afternoon, but if one of them is Rowan’s flavor of the week? Who cares.

I drop my grip on Kennedy, and we all head outside after Oliver and I grab our axes and work gloves, juggling them with our to-go drink cups.

As soon as the door closes behind us, Kennedy turns to look at me, her brow wrinkled. Fuck me. She’s a knockout like this too. It’s like she can’t help herself. Everything she does has to be beautiful and graceful, even if it’s being pissed off.

“What was that all about?” she asks coldly, staring me down even though I’m several inches taller than her. She’s not small for a woman, though. Five eight or five nine, easy.

“Ethel likes to gossip,” I say.

“So why did you give her something to gossip about?” she asks through her teeth, clearly unhappy with me. It probably doesn’t speak well of me that I find her reaction slightly amusing.

“I did it for your sake, Princess. You should be thanking me.”

The nickname was the wrong thing to say, because her glower deepens. Actually, no one seems to be looking at me kindly right now.

“Ethel likes to talk,” Oliver says, waving his cup. “Two strangers, one of them Rowan’s roommate who works onMatchmaking the Rich…”

“So why’d you tell her that we live together?” Harry asks, his eyebrows winging up in a dramatic mask of alarm.

“It would be worse if she found out from someone else,” I say. “This way it looks like we have nothing to hide. Like Kennedy here’s a tourist who’s in town for one weekend, not the runaway bachelorette.”

“That’s the wrong show,” Harry says, but it seems like a rote response. “Huh. You might have a point.”

“Of course I do,” I say. My gaze shifts to Kennedy, but if I was hoping for an apology or a thank you, I’ll be waiting a while. She still seems pissed.

“Won’t it be worse if they discover who I am? You just implied that I’m…” Her cheeks flush, and I feel a swell of something.

You’re not attracted to her. You’re not attracted to her.

“Some kind of strumpet,” she finishes.

“Strumpet?” I say, my lips turning up.

It would be incredibly stupid for me to hit on Kennedy Littlefield for real. Setting aside the whole princess thing, she’s the lead contestant on a dating show my grandmother is running.AndI’m friendly with her brother, who would probably be less than pleased with me.

“Who are you? The Queen of England?” I ask.

“Come on, Harry,” she says, her gaze still on me from behind those big glasses. “Let’s go check out that sleigh.”

“You might not want to get on there,” I say. “It’s been sitting out here for at least three decades.”

“Then it’s a year older than me,” she says pointedly, as if I’m an ass for not knowing her exact age. How was I supposed to? It’s not like she has her birthdate tattooed on her arm.

“All right, have at it,” I say, lifting my to-go cup in a cheers.

She’s already walking away, Harry at her side. He glances back with a little regret in his eyes, as if he’s not so sure he wants to get on a sleigh that old but feels the need to be loyal.

“You sure have a way with women,” Oliver says with a chuckle.

“You sure have a way with men.”

He nudges me with his shoulder and laughs. “Touché. Want to go chop down some trees?”

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