Page 81 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

I hadn’t even noticed, but now that I’ve stopped working for five minutes, I can see that he’s right. I give a nod, and we both head into the house, shutting the door behind us.

“I can help you organize out there, you know,” Harry tells me as we walk into the living room.

“You’re as allergic to my workroom as you are lavender, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he says with a shudder.

“Sorry, bud,” I tell him. “The chaos suits me. It lends to my creativity.”

“But wouldn’t you be more creative if all the different parts were sorted into bins where you could immediately find what you need?”

“Nope,” I say, gesturing for him to sit on the couch. “Want a beer?”

“Please.”

I pop the tops on two beers from Ziggy Brewery—now that Holly is with Cole, all our beer is from Ziggy Brewery—and hand one over to him before sitting.

“There’s a recording device in the pool room,” Harry says as he takes it. “Kennedy and I found it the other night. She got the idea it was in there, and sure enough.”

Shit, they really have been busy.

“That’s how Nana knew about Truth or Dare,” I say, rubbing my whiskers. Fuck. It makes me feel physically ill to think that my grandmother might have a video of me going down on Kennedy. That wasourmoment. “Audio or video?”

“Audio,” he says.

I breathe a sigh of relief, although this whole thing is still seriously fucked up. Yes, Kennedy and the others agreed to be taped for the show, but they didn’t agree for their every moment at that house to be watched and taped. “You destroy it?”

“Nope,” he says. “We don’t want her to know thatweknow.”

His expression turns crafty. “Think about it. This is our in, Rowan. Kennedy and I can give Maeve bad information, and she’ll sway the show around it.” He pauses, then grins and adds, “I also suggested thatweplant a camera down in the pool room. We know they meet down there. The next time they do, we’ll have it on tape.”

They’re not bad ideas. In fact, they’re pretty damn good ones. Still, I snort. “We’ve already established that I’m bad at sabotaging things. Why are you telling me this? If I got involved, I’d probably mess everything up worse.” I take a swig of beer and rub at my chest. It’s not that it hurts—I don’t think I’m on the verge of a heart attack, thank God—but something feelswrong. Like I’m a puzzle with a crucial piece missing. The face of the dinosaur, the nose of the princess, King Kong’s leg.

What can I say? All my puzzles were missing pieces when I was a kid.

“You like Kennedy,” he says significantly. “That’s why you’re involved, Rowan. Do you realize that the absolute best possibleTV that could come out of this show would be if we take down the evil witch…”

He means my grandmother, obviously. I don’t object.

“And find the princess real, lasting love,” Harry adds.

I feel a twinge of something—possessiveness, sadness, anger—at the thought of any of those assholes making a move on her. They can’t, my heart and head both insist, because she’s mine. It’s not true, and my sisters would probably tell me I’m a sexist jerk for calling any womanmine, but I can’t deny that’s the way I feel—a way I’ve never felt before.

Worse, I’m pretty damn sure I’m hers. There’s this warmth that’s uncracked in my middle, and every time I’m with her, it seems to take over. To guide me. I’m not sure I like it, but I don’t know how to shut it down.

“Let’s get real with each other,” Harry says, and something about the way he says it tells me I’m not going to like what comes out of his mouth next. He hunkers down, his elbows on his knees, as if to show he means business. “That’s not going to happen with any of the assholes on this show. None of them. A couple of them are okay, but do you really think Kennedy is the kind of woman who should have to settle for okay?”

No, I don’t, which is why she deserves better than a handyman who makes toys. I open my mouth to say so, but he lifts a hand, looking surprisingly bossy for a man with such a nervous temperament. “Please don’t say anything self-effacing. No one’s saying you’re perfect. Trust me, no one’s saying that.”

“Do you need to sound so adamant about it?” I grump.

Suddenly, I’m not so sure I want to open the letter that’s currently burning a hole into my hand. Despite what he’s told me, I’m worried about what I’ll find inside of it. What if she sends me away? What if she tells me that she’s decided to throw her everything into the show? What if she’s in love with Marcus or Colton or one of the others whose name I don’t remember?

“Well?” Harry asks, as if to tell me he doesn’t have all day to sit around and watch me not opening the letter. Fair point.

I tap it on the table once, suck down a gulp of beer, and open the handwritten note.

Dear Rowan,

---