Page 34 of Flown in for Christmas

When I joined him, however, I dragged my newly recovered luggage into his closet and, well, I could tell right away, it was broken into.

I use the term ‘broken into’ loosely since nothing seems to be missing, but it was dumped at some point. Nothing is where I put it, nor folded neatly. Even my toothbrush is out of its case. And, call it what you will, but I have a hunch it was Eric.

Nick claims he caught him activelytryingto get inside, but I just… I don’t trust it. And I don’t mention it to Nick, either. With the gross image of his cousin thumbing through my underwear in mind, I dial my father’s phone number.

I know, I know. Nick said to leave it be for now, but how can I stand idly by and watch his family be infiltrated by, well, I’m not sure yet?

“Hello, Joy,” my father’s voice sounds from the other end of the call.

I smile. It’s good to hear his voice. We try to talk once a week at the very least, but sometimes work gets in his way. I don’t mind, though, it’s still more time than I get from Emmett or Mom. “Hey, Dad. How are you?”

“I’m well,” he says. “How’s California?”

Oops. “About that…”

Dad harrumphs on the other end. “You’re not spending Christmas with your brother, are you?”

I sigh, opening the massive fridge and peering inside. The container filled with Betty’s Christmas tree-shaped brownies catches my eye and I pop the top open, removing two before I close the lid and the fridge. “You know how Emmett is,” I mumble, taking a bite out of one brownie as I shuffle to grab a napkin. “When he sets his mind on something, there isn’t room for distractions.”

“He gets that from his mother,” Dad says bitterly. “He should know how to manage his time wisely by now and leave room for important events.”

“Like spending time with his lonely little sister for Christmas?” I snort sarcastically, stuffing another sad bite of chocolatey goodness into my mouth as I walk toward the breakfast nook.

“Exactly.”

I frown and take a seat by the window. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You know what I meant.” He chuckles. It’s good to hear him laugh, he hasn’t done it often enough since the divorce.

We chat for a bit, catching up on what’s new for him at work, his plans for this week—which are unsurprisingly work-related—and when I might see him again. “After the holidays,” he says. “I’m getting ten times the amount of work done with everyone gone. It’s a wonder I don’t fire the whole office and do everything myself right the first time around.”

I roll my eyes, the action causing my head to feel a bit loopy.Weird.

I shake the feeling off with a small bite into my second brownie and a change of subject, “Well, thereisa tiny favor I was hoping to ask of you,” I start, filling him in on the bits and pieces of Nick’s cousin and the odd dynamic that’s built over the last year.

There is a rustle of paper from my father’s end. I have no doubt he’s taking notes. “And you think this…Eric, may have some unsavory intentions?”

I shrug to myself, leaning against the back of the chair. “I feel like the situation speaks for itself, don’t you?”

He hums. “It definitely merits looking into,” he agrees.

I relay the few details I have on Eric and Darcy. He tells me he’ll look into it personally when I say this is more of a favor for my boss than anything else.

“Has he not done his own investigation?” my father asks.

“He did, but he said they didn’t find anything.” At his silence, I add, “It was a local PI, and you always told me anyone with ties to certain people or places are more easily swayed to avoid the truth.”

He chuckles lightly. “You seem very invested in this, Joy.”

I blow out an exaggerated breath, my mouth feeling dry and sticky all at once.Gross. It’s hard to tell if it’s my nerves or guilty conscience that are getting the better of me. I might not be telling my dad thewholetruth, but it doesn’t hurt to give him an added incentive… “I like him.”

Dad pauses. “But he’s your boss, sweetheart.”

“I know,” I practically whine. This fantasy of being Nick Davis’ fiancée has me all messed up. It just feels soreal. Like he’s reallymine. And I’m his. He admitted he likes me back, after all. That has to mean something.

It means he likes you, too, duh!

And he eats pussy so damn good.

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