Page 324 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

When he returned to the living room, she was standing beside the tree, smiling at an ornament Iris had ordered from one of those photo printing websites. It showed a shirtless Jack holding Ruby.

“Can I get one of those?” she asked, turning to him.

He pulled her into his arms. “Why settle for the picture when you can have the real thing?” He kissed her, slow and lazy, taking the time to do it thoroughly, while he pulled her body flush with his. “We don’t have to leave,” he said. “There are dozens of other locations in this house besides the back of the front door.”

“While I’d like to explore all of them with you,” she said breathlessly, brushing her fingertips along his cheek, “we can’t stay here anyway. The ladies are having a slumber party. We’relucky they didn’t walk in on us while we were sprawled out on the sofa.”

“Then we can just go over to your place.”

Her mouth twisted to one side, and for a moment he thought he had her, but she said, “Later. After we join the rest of the brewery tour.”

“You still want to do that?” he asked, surprised.

“Kind of?” She shrugged, then pulled back and grabbed her jacket off the chair where she’d tossed it. “Ididplan it with Finn, plus I don’t want to completely bail on River. What if Lee goes off on him?”

Jack pushed out a sigh. She was right, and he felt like a heel for suggesting they skip it.

“Well, as long as you don’t comfort him like you just comforted me, we’ll be okay,” he teased.

Her eyes widened slightly. She started to say something, but her phone rang. Grimacing, she pulled it out of her jeans pocket.

“It’s Dottie.” She answered the call and lifted the phone to her ear. “Yes, we’re coming. We were just about to leave.” She bent down and picked her purse up off the floor. “Okay. We’ll hurry.” She hung up and snagged Jack’s wrist, pulling him toward the door.

They went in her car, leaving his Prius in the driveway. They were both quiet in the car, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Jack didn’t want to sit in the same room as Prescott, let alone listen to him talk. He’d prefer to go back to a time when his father was nothing but a bad memory.

Maisie finally broke the silence. “Dottie said dinner was going faster than she’d planned. She escaped to the bathroom to make the call, but they’ve almost finished eating.”

“So they had an entire dinner without discussing whatever she wanted to talk about?”

“She said she wanted to enjoy her meal first.”

What could Dottie have to discuss with Prescott that would ruin her meal? She had to be the most patient, understanding, and forgiving person he knew.

Maisie got lucky and found street parking a half block from the restaurant and practically jumped out of the car.

“Come on, Jack!” she said, snagging his hand and sweeping him along toward the entrance. He matched her pace even though it went against his every instinct. He told himself he was doing it for her.

She rushed past the hostess and took him straight to the bar, claiming a high-top table next to a wall of fake greenery. He went for one of the chairs, but she steered him into the other.

A waitress came over to take their orders, and Maisie leaned in to give her drink order in a near whisper.

“Lemon drop martini for me, and…?” She raised an eyebrow to Jack.

“Bourbon. Two fingers. Neat.”

The waitress nodded and turned away, while Maisie leaned her ear closer to the plant wall. It would have been adorable if he weren’t acutely aware his father sat on the other side.

“How do you know we’re at the right table?” Jack asked in a lowered voice.

“Because Dottie told me where to sit,” she answered as she tapped her phone a few times, then set it facedown on the table.

Of course she’d planned it down to the table where she wanted them to sit. Maisie had probably texted Dottie that they were in position and ready.

Sure enough, Jack heard Dottie’s voice clearly on the other side of the bush ‘wall.’ “Prescott, I’m sure you’re wondering why I invited you to dinner this evening.”

“Are yousenile?” Prescott replied in an arrogant tone. “I’ve asked this exact question about ten times over the course of the last half hour.”

His voice was louder than hers. And sure, he’d probably spoken louder, but from the crisp quality of the sound, Prescott was directly next to him, their seats separated by just the plant. Maisie had pushed him into this chair, which meant Dottie had even planned theseating.

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