Page 108 of Square Deal

I sighed. I really needed to check on Bridget. “I suppose. But she knows that Kyle doesn’t like Chase, and it’s probably easier just to keep those two in their separate corners.”

“Boys never grow up,” Kristin muttered.

“What about you, boo? Do you have your eye on anyone?” In all the years I had known Kristin, she had never dated anyone. Maybe if she did a little something for herself, like getting dressed up to go out for dinner, she’d regain some of the independence that had been unfairly stripped from her. “You should date.”

Kristin laughed. “And when do you suppose I have time to go on these dates?”

She had a point.

“One of us can watch the kids for a few hours while you take some time to yourself and have dinner with a handsome man.”

She shot me a doubtful look.

“Think about it,” I said as I clicked through unread emails, and flagged anything that couldn’t wait until after the holidays for a response.

There wasn’tenough caffeine at Queen’s to keep my feet from dragging the next day. I was seriously concerned I had put a dent in Isaac’s net worth with all the coffee I had been chugging.

Luckily, the Christmas Eve Bash went off without a hitch. Santa listened to wishes, carolers sang, and children made structurally unsound gingerbread houses. Those little creations paled in comparison to the showstopping gingerbread replica of the Taylor Creek Inn that Maddie delivered to the inn.

Steve and Erica invited the poker club to their house forChristmas movies and eggnog, but I had a date with my bed. I was a wrecked race car sputtering its way over the finish line.

Reluctantly, I scrubbed off my wilted makeup and threw on an oversized t-shirt. I didn’t own many of those, preferring to sleep in nightgowns. But my brother had given it to me years ago, and I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the gold bar cart I kept in the living room and padded into the kitchen. After mixing a tablespoon of honey, juicing a lemon, and garnishing the glass with a cinnamon stick, I carried my hot toddy upstairs with the intent of reading a chapter of a book and sleeping away the bowling ball rolling around in my head.

Tomorrow morning, I would have to wake up, drive five hours west, and face the firing squad—my mother. And she was a damn good shot.

I would need more than whiskey to survive that.

Chase had slipped by earlier to pick up the presents I had bought for Kristin and her siblings. She rarely let us help out, but she did let us spoil the shit out of them for Christmas and their birthdays. It was the least we could do.

I pulled my hair into a loose ponytail and curled under the covers. I eyed the Whitney West novel on top of my nightstand, but I didn’t have the energy to open it up. The whiskey was soothing, and the honey made my eyes heavy.

The bowling ball in my head struck pin after pin. It slammed into the other side of my skull when I buried my head in a pillow to block out the racket.

I grimaced. Everything felt foggy. I was cold and sweaty all at the same time.

Did I need to turn the heat up, or did I need to strip down?

Large splotches bloomed on the t-shirt where I had sweated right through the cotton. Gross.

I didn’t have time to think about the fact that I needed to change my swampy bedding. The banging wasn’t just in my head.

I groaned and tapped the screen of my phone.

Twelve missed calls from Isaac.Aw, hell—he said something about being back for Christmas Eve and I completely forgot.I’d call him back after I finished murdering whoever was assaulting my front door.

I dragged my feet down the stairs and slumped to the door, croaking out a pathetic, “Just a sec.”

I rested my hand on the doorknob. The cool metal felt like heaven. Maybe I’d just go outside and sit out on the porch until my body decided whether it wanted to be hot or cold. Gingerly, I twisted the deadbolt and unlocked the door.

Isaac stood on my doorstep. A suitcase was behind him, a festive box was in his arm, and his jaw was on the doormat. He quickly steeled his expression and shuffled inside.

“Hi,” I croaked.

“What the fuck?” he clipped. “I thought you were dead. You weren’t answering your phone. You weren’t answering your door. I checked at the inn, I called Maddie?—”

I slumped against the foyer wall. A yawn escaped my mouth without permission. “Gimme just a second to put somethin’ nice on.”

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