Page 93 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

Jester offers a little half bark, and I decide that he agrees with me. “He’s our guy, Jester.”

Something stirs inside me, and I recognize it for what it is—that Littlefield problem-solving gene. I sit up, moving Jester to my lap, where he cuddles happily enough.

“Harry was right,” I tell him.

He wags his nub of a tail.

I set him down and get up, starting to pace.

“Rowan needs to be part of the narrative for the show,” I tell Jester.

I know in my heart that he will want to do no such thing, but it’s the perfect solution—the perfectcompromise.

He doesn’t want me to flirt with the guys on the show, and I absolutely don’t want to do that either, but if there’s no flirting, there’s no show, and if there’s no show, then Leto’s Hands won’t get the boost it so desperately needs.

But if the show subverts people’s expectations…if I end up with Rowan, the grandson of one of the hosts, instead of one of the “rich” men she chose for me…

Well, Harry’s right…it would be highly entertaining.

There’s a knock, and then an envelope is pushed under the door. I sigh, because yesterday Colton slipped another poem under my door, and it was truly awful. He rhymed “kiss” with “piss,” and I’m not looking forward to pretending I enjoyed it over dinner.

Jester shocks the life out of me by scrambling over to the door and picking up the envelope in his mouth, then bringing it to me.

“You’re a genius,” I tell him, in serious wonder. And he pees on the floor.

After I clean it up, I open the envelope, steeling myself for poor rhyming and worse attempts at iambic pentameter.

To my surprise, it’s a note from Harry.

Kennedy—

I can’t risk being seen going into your room right now. Tensions are very high in the house. I’ve told everyone your stomach’s acting up again. Sorry. I couldn’t think of a better excuse. Be prepared, though, Colton wants to talk to you—at length, I’m sure—about the possibility that you might have ulcerative colitis. He has discussed his bowel movements with me for the last hour.

They wanted to check on you, like last time, but I told them you had some serious thinking to do before tomorrow’s Rolex ceremony, and that’s what set off the drama. Colton and that guy Jeff started fighting about which of them is more boring—I thought it was Jeff at first, but it’s DEFINITELY Colton—and then Jonah said he’d be a shoe in for the final three because he’s pledged to give you his virginity, and the others all agreed that he wasn’t in fact a virgin. Anyway, there’s a lot of controversy out here. Be grateful you’re tucked away with a stomach complaint. ;-)

Xoxo, Harry

P.S. Dispose of this note. No one will think twice about you flushing the toilet a lot.

Laughter slips out of me, and delight fizzes in my body because surely this means…

Rowan’s coming, isn’t he? Harry knows I want more time with him, and he’s arranged for it to happen, the dear man.

I kiss the top of Jester’s head, dispose of the note as Harry suggested (something tells me he’s waiting outside to hear that flush), and then settle into the cozy chair by the window.

While I wait for him, I try reading the biography of Jonah Highbury the First again, then set it aside for another reread of the holiday romance novel. Jester lies at my feet, his warm fur brushing my skin. It feels like waiting for a pot of water to boil,but finally a light but insistent tap lands on the window, and I jump from my chair like a jack-in-the-box, prompting Jester to grunt and give me a grumpy look before he settles back down.

“Sorry, Jester,” I murmur as I race to the window to let Rowan in.

When I open the blinds, he’s there, and I’m aware of how much I’ve missed him over the past forty-eight hours. It hasn’t taken very long, but he’s slipped into my soul. It makes me think again about the distance between Asheville and Chicago.

I open the window to a waft of cold air and Rowan scent, and he smiles at me. “Harry told you?”

“He didn’t tell me much,” I say. “But I hoped you were coming. He said I didn’t have to have dinner with Colton tonight because everyone in the house thinks I have explosive diarrhea. Again.”

He smirks. “I shouldn’t laugh.”

“Oh, you can laugh. Everyone else probably is, except for Colton. He’s apparently preparing a speech on ulcerative colitis.”

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