Page 296 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

Iris grabbed it up like it was nothing—because itwasnothing—and instead of throwing it behind the desk, she headed back to the playroom. “If you’re going to hang out here until Dustin gets the next dog, I’m getting you a shirt, Jack. You can’t just go around flashing your chest like that.”

“Yeah, you might cause a riot,” Maisie said to him in a soft whisper, because he had a look of righteous indignation on his face that almost sent her into another fit of laughter—he’d been bribed into stripping and then was chastised for it.

“Would you take part?” he asked.

“I’d be first in line. I’d trip everyone else.”

“I bet you would.” He paused, swallowed. “That was your father’s, wasn’t it? The Santa coat.”

She felt seen in a way she wasn’t sure she liked. What was it Dottie had said to her?We’re so rarely looking for the things we need.

And because Dottie was so often right, Maisie didn’t change the subject or refuse to answer. She just nodded. “It was. He used to wear it every year for the kids in our neighborhood.”

She glanced back to the door to the playroom, but there was still no sign of Iris. Maybe Ruby had left a mess in there. Iris had proven surprisingly stoic about cleaning up messes. She’d commented on it once, and Iris had just given her a look. “After Jack moved out, I was the only one who cleaned up anything.” She’d said it forthrightly, and that was that.

Maisie looked back at Jack, meeting his intent gaze. Taking in his chest and arms and all of him. And she knew with certainty thathewas the reason this co-best man gig hadn’t been as hard on her as she’d feared it would be. This was the man she needed.Not River. She loved River—she would always love River—but that love had changed.

“It’s none of my business,” Jack said, misinterpreting her pause.

“Maybe I’d like it to be,” she said. “You’re right. As you’ve obviously seen, I have trouble letting go. It feels like if I get rid of their things or change my life too much, they’ll float away, and it’ll be like they never existed. My sisters say I need to stop keeping vigil, but sometimes I’m not sure I can stop.” She thought of River again and said, “But Iris is right”—she eyed the playroom again, taking in the door, still closed—“it’s time.”

He took her hand, pulling her to him just as commandingly as he had in the storeroom, but he didn’t kiss her this time, and he didn’t talk either. He just held her. He held her in a wordless silence that said it all, his strong arms wrapped around her, his chest warm against her shirt.

The sound of footsteps jolted her, and this time she was the one who pulled away from him, embarrassed to be seen so vulnerable by anyone—when had she last allowed that to happen?—and swiped at the tears that had escaped.

It was Iris, looking at them with eyes that saw everything. But she didn’t tease, nor did she act repulsed. She just handed her brother his T-shirt. The shirt, sadly, went on.

Iris grinned at them. “If that last picture got five hundred likes, I’m sure this series will get a thousand.”

Her words were optimistic, but that smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. Maybe Jack had gotten it right and she was actually upset by the thought of them being together. Or maybe Iris had just been through so much change she wasn’t sure she could take any more. Maisie understood that.

“What was that text about, anyway?” Iris asked.

It took Maisie a second to place what she was talking about.

Why was she interested in River’s well-being? From what Maisie could tell, Iris was warming up to Georgie more slowly than Adalia, probably because Georgie was more of what Iris would call a “real” adult.

She rubbed her nose, thinking about the panic in River’s voice. Although she was tempted to tell them, she knew he hadn’t decided what to tell Georgie, and it would be a dick move on her part to spill the whole story. Not to mention it would be awkward talking about Prescott to Jack, knowing everything the man had done.

So she just shrugged. “Co-best man duties.”

Jack gave her a look, like he maybe wanted to press her for information, but he only said, “Oh yeah? How’s the bachelor party shaping up?”

It occurred to Maisie that Dustin hadn’t come back yet, and she looked around for him, only to find him lingering in the door to the kennel, Chewie at his heels. If snooping were a criminal offense, he would have been in jail years ago. She waved him forward, wondering how much he’d seen. Hopefully he hadn’t seen her tears.

“I can’t tell you, can I?” she said to Jack, letting her voice drop into a flirty register. “I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” Jack said.

“Can I go to the bachelor party instead?” Iris asked for what was probably the hundredth time.

“Nope. Strictly twenty-one and up,” Maisie insisted. But she gave her a wink to soften it. “Lucky for us, Dottie has had astronginfluence on Adalia’s plans. So you’ll get plenty of mayhem. And you can help Addy and me torment Victoria.”

“I can’t officially sanction that,” Jack said, but his slight smile gave him away.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Iris said. “Do you guys want to see the pictures?” She beamed as she said it, proud of what she’daccomplished, and Maisie marveled at the change in her. So much of her sullenness had been stripped away. For a teenage Molly, the key had been writing. For Iris, it had apparently been dogs. Or whatever else was going on with her that they didn’t know about. Because if she knew one thing about teenage girls, it was that they kept plenty of secrets.

“I’d love to see them,” she said, her gaze shifting to Jack. His eyes were already on her.

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