Page 58 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“Vicious,” I say with a laugh. “And accurate.”

I make my way to the closet and take out the tree, propping it in my favorite spot for it, on the shelf in front of the curtain-covered window. I turn on the battery-powered lights with a happy sigh and then join him on the fainting couch.

“You’ll have to leave the room to get dinner,” Harry says nervously. “Someone might see it.”

“I’ll ask one of the production assistants to bring me something.”

“No, I will,” he says. Then he gives me a significant look. “But you should be spending more time with the men for the cameras. As much as I hate to say it, Maeve is right about that. You’ll need to act like you’re interested in getting to know a few of them. Otherwise it’s not going to be much of a show.”

I sigh again, trying to focus on the tree with its pretty lights, but I get that sinking feeling again, like I’m a balloon that’s slowly but steadily turning back into a flattened rubber tube.

“They’re horrible,” I say flatly.

“They’re horrible,” he agrees. “Maybe I’ll get to pick the guys next season.”

“That doesn’t help me.”

“No.” He gives me a sympathetic look. “Want me to leave my phone in here so you can call Olive?”

Everything inside me brightens at the suggestion. “Yes, oh my God, yes.” I pause. “But don’t you need it? You’re going on your date tonight.”

“And Oliver and I already set the time and location,” he says firmly, taking out his phone and handing it to me. “Just be sure to pretend you’re talking to yourself if anyone hears you and knocks.”

I laugh, because I don’t hate the thought of the guys thinking I’m insane. Maybe it would keep them from coming on too strong. “Thank you, Harry. You’re a godsend.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, his lips thinning.

There’s something ominous about the words, so I give him a searching look.

“Please don’t ask me what I know. I hate it when people ask me what I know.”

My mind conjures up an image of Rowan. He’d probably say something like, “Would you prefer for them to ask for information you don’t know?” So I say that.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Harry says nervously and then runs a hand over his hair. “I promised Tina that I’d take care of you, but I’m doing a pretty shit job.”

“Maeve Mayberry is a wily woman,” I tell him. “No one could blame you for not always being two steps ahead.”

“I guess,” he says with a sigh. “Just try to be flirty with a few of the guys tomorrow. For my sake.”

The thought chafes, but it’s why I’m here, and I haven’t forgotten that.

“Thanks, Harry,” I say. “I’m going to want to know everything, literally everything, about your date.”

“Good,” he says, getting up. “Because I was going to tell you whether you wanted to know or not.”

I wrap him up in my arms because I’m desperate for a hug. He pauses for a second, hopefully from surprise and not disgust, and then hugs me back hard. “It’s going to be okay, Kennedy.”

“Is it?”

I can feel him laughing as he pulls away. “It has to be, doesn’t it? For you and the show. And maybe even for me and Oliver. I mean…it can’t go as badly as the first time we hung out, right?” He starts tapping his fingers together. “Actually, I’m probably jinxing myself by saying that. I’ll be honest, I’m sweating in places I didn’t know I could sweat.” He grimaces. “No, that’s a lie. I make a habit of sweating when I’m nervous. I hope he won’t want to shake my hand. Or touch me at all.”

“I think youwanthim to touch you,” I say. “And if he gets to, he won’t care about a little sweat.”

Harry laughs, nods, then carries himself resolutely to the door. “Get ready for some massive oversharing.”

“I was born ready. I’m already looking forward to it.”

He turns and leaves, and a gaping emptiness seems to open in my room.

---