Page 57 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

Jonah looks like he’s struggling to swallow—you can’t choke on fish eggs, can you?—but Marcus has the upper hand, and he’s not about to lose it.

“Why don’t you film the videos with us?” he asks with a bright smile. He’s sucking up, but I’m so relieved, I don’t care.

“I’d be delighted to!”

Jonah, who’s just swallowed, adds, “And kiss us on camera.”

My face wants to crinkle in distaste, but I remind myself that he didn’t specifyhowI was going to kiss him. A cheek kiss will doperfectly well, and I do need to act like I’m interested in the guys. That’s the only way people will be invested in the show.

My mind skips back to what Harry said, to the possibility of creating a different sort of narrative, but Rowan would have to be open to it, and it’s very obvious that

he’s not.

At least he’s not like Brandon, I guess, interested in me only because of my family’s status and the money in my trust fund. If anything, Rowan seems put off by those things.

“Fine,” I say. “Shall we?”

“So what is Leto’s Hands again?” Jonah asks. “Is it some kind of sexual thing you’re interested in trying?”

“Said like a true virgin,” Marcus deadpans.

It tookdozens of takes for us to film the spots. I’m pretty sure Jonah kept flubbing his lines on purpose so I’d have to keep kissing him on the cheek. He has smooth skin, at least, but I don’t feel even the smallest hint of attraction toward either him or Marcus.

I was pleased with how the spots turned out, though, even more so because they’re going to be a major part of the plot for this episode. Based on her expression, which soured more with every take, Nana Mayberry knows it too.

“You’re kissing them like you would your brother, Kennedy,” she told me halfway through. “Who’s going to believe you’re falling in love?”

I didn’t like that she was right. I especially didn’t like the implications. Everyone’s going to expect me to act like I’m in love with someone by the end of this thing. And I’ll be honest, I can’t imagine simpering over any of these guys, on camera or off.

By the time we finish, it’s late afternoon. The production assistants pack up the picnic and, to no one’s surprise, the guys race each other home while Lady and I walk back at a more sedate pace. Both of them are waiting for me outside the house when I arrive, the camera van preceding me as if we’re some sort of a parade of two.

Once again, the guys argue over who gets to help me dismount.

Once again, I do it by myself.

Marcus and Jonah both offer to see me up to my room.

“I’ll be doing that,” Harry says, stepping forward. He’s such a sweet man, accommodating and funny and neurotic, but there’s something harsh about the way he says it.

Nana Mayberry just sniffs and walks off, but not before giving Jonah a significant look. What it means, I can’t guess, and I don’t particularly want to.

Harry takes my elbow and leads me up to my room. Once we’re inside, he glances both ways down the hall, then closes and locks the door. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks.

“I literally have no idea.”

“Candy cane,” he says, referencing our safe words, so I nod, because I have a feeling I know where he’s going with this. Nana Mayberry knows things she shouldn’t know, and if he didn’t tell her, and I didn’t tell her, who did?

My mind flashes to Rowan again, but I still don’t believe he’d share intimate details about me with anyone, let alone his grandmother.

“Let’s see,” he says loudly in a voice that’s clearly meant for someone else, someone who could be watching and listening. “We need to find the flickering bulb so we can replace it. It may take a long time.”

It does. The two of us work silently and thoroughly, going through every square inch of the princess room, which is abigger deal than it sounds like considering how many tchotchkes grace its shelves.

“I’m about ninety-three percent certain there’s no camera in here,” Harry says, sitting back on the fainting couch, “so that’s good.” His eyes narrow. “Rowan’s future brother-in-law is that tech billionaire, of course, but there’s no lost love between him and Nana Mayberry.”

I can’t help but be interested. “It doesn’t seem like any of the Mayberrys are fond of her.”

Sighing, he runs a hand over his head. “Can you blame them? It would be like being fond of a piece of furniture. A straight-backed metal chair with spikes on the seat.”

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