Page 95 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“See, youdoknow the right thing to say,” I tell him, because I’m pretty sure it’s the best compliment I’ve ever received. He lifts from the chair and kisses me, capturing my bottom lipbetween his teeth for an instant. If he were to suggest staying here all night and forgetting his idea, I wouldn’t hate it, but he pulls back, rueful.

“We’re sticking to the plan. I’m not messing this up for you.” He says it with such conviction, and something inside me softens, even though I wasn’t aware there was anything left in my heart that could become softer toward him.

“By all means,” I say, pulling on my coat and watching as he tugs his back on.

Jester gives a mournful little cry, obviously realizing we’re going somewhere and he’s not.

“I’m sorry, bud,” Rowan says, then pulls something out of his pocket and gives it to him. Jester takes it greedily, already gobbling it up.

“You brought him a treat?” I ask, feeling that soft space in my heart again.

“As a distraction,” he insists, because he doesn’t like to have his goodness commented on. Then, his grin turning a bit wicked, he says, “Are you ready to break some rules, Princess?”

Am I ever.

Climbingdown the side of the building was easier than I’d feared. There’s a large trellis nailed to the side of the building, and it was almost like using a ladder. It reminded me of Jonah and Marcus’s inane competition from the night Rowan got me Jester. In fact, it’s so dangerously easy that I’m tempted to write the Labelles an anonymous letter, warning them of the danger.

Afterward, we slipped into the woods by the house so we could circle around the to avoid the guards who’ve been posted at the front door after Jonah’s mistake. It felt clandestine, andkind of hot, and we’re going to be a few minutes late for whatever Rowan arranged, because I told him that it was Daphne’s fantasy to be taken against a tree.

He gave me what I wanted. Sort of. It was much too cold for us to take our clothes off, but he used one arm to pin me to the tree and the other to make me come.

It took us several minutes to hike to the car, parked in a little clear patch of land off the long driveway. We’re sitting in it now, a little disheveled from our stop in the woods, but in agoodway.

“This is for you,” he says, handing me a travel mug from the cupholder. He has an identical one, I see, but he doesn’t move to open it.

The smell is out of this world fabulous, like spiced eggnog mixed with rum and butter and goodness. “Is this a Three Wise Men?”

“The very same,” he says with a grin. “Drink slowly and with caution.”

I take the first sip of the boozy drink, and it’s so delicious that I understand why it’s notorious for creating hangovers. Who would drink one of these and say,I’ve had enough?

“What are we doing?” I ask with excitement.

“You’ll see,” he tells me, giving me a sidelong glance. “But I can tell you with confidence, Daphne, that it’ll be horrible.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ROWAN

“I warned you,” I say, glancing at her. She looks so damn happy, it’s like I can’t help but catch some of her happiness and keep it. Except that’s not quite right, because the reason I’m happy is thatsheis—that I was able to make this happen for her.

Even though the only thing I’ve given her is atonal caroling in the town square.

That’s no exaggeration—one of the carolers is so tone deaf, the screech she issues during “All I Want for Christmas is You” sounds like it’s made by a murder victim. Worse, four of them are in costume. One is, randomly, a bear, another is dressed to look like a nutcracker, a third is wearing antlers with jingle bells (Kennedy says this isn’t a costume, but I argue that if a person were to wear such a thing at any other time, they would be considered eccentric, if not troubled), and a fourth is dressed as Jolly Saint Nick himself.

If left to my own devices, I would only attend this particular event if one of the carolers accidentally lit a fire. Or if someone suffered from a medical emergency, like Jay, and they had to wait for the EMTs to arrive.

But I can’t deny that I’m having fun. Standing here with my arm around Kennedy, both of us holding drinks from ChristmasAll Year coffee, although I’m the DD, and mine is non-alcoholic, there’s a lightness inside of me. With her, I can watch this absurdity unfolding and be slightly amused and entertained by it, not annoyed by the loud and badly performed music or the mildew-scented costumes several of the singers are wearing.

From the looks Kennedy keeps giving me and the way she snuggles closer, I know she’s enjoying herself too.

Still, there’s only so much a man can take, and when a true asshole shouts out encore for “All I want for Christmas is You,” and they actually start singing it again, I slip my hand down to take hers and nod.

“Next stop.”

She shoots me a sly look, like she understands exactly what I’m all about, and steps away with me.

“You didn’t want to hear that high A again, did you?” she asks in a lowered voice.

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