Page 19 of Holly and Nick Hate Christmas
And Nick! He didn’t even know me, and he was willing to go along with something this pathetic simply because Ryan asked? That told me all I needed to know about Nick’s character—fitted Henley or not. Pretty rare that a guy could look like part of a Chevy truck commercialandbe kind and sensitive.
I straightened my spine and my sweater, prepared to march outside and tell Ryan and his immature friend—hotfriend, yes, but immature nonetheless—that the jig was up. That I didn’t need a pity date, or any date for Christmas or any other holiday. Maybe the shock and horror on their faces at being busted would offset the deep ache making its home in my gut.
And people wondered why I hated the holidays.
Indignation flared, overriding the hurt. Perfect. Now properly fueled by anger, I grabbed the knob and wrested the door open.
Or…
I paused, letting my hand fall back to my side. An idea formed, slowly rolling and gathering volume like a snowball down a hill.
The snowball reached boulder size, and I grinned.
Why get mad when I could get even?
Nick prided himself on being logical. One could be cautiously optimistic while still being fully grounded in reality. But every now and then, something caused Hope to jump center stage and nab the spotlight from Realistic.
Something like the perfect property dropping into his lap.
The sun warmed the back of his neck. Birds flitted from branch to branch overhead. Nick breathed in the serene winter air and released it with a white puff. Ryan was still talking about Holly, and it was all Nick could do to focus on his friend’s nervous chatter and not the beauty of the acreage around them.
The spread was already fenced for horses. The barn, while clearly old and tired, had great bones and wouldn’t need more than a paint job to get it back in pristine condition. He could build the ropes course over in that grove of trees and eventually pour a slab for basketball right there by the—
“…just don’t want her to get hurt.” Ryan cracked his knuckles on one hand, then the other.
He was really stressing, wasn’t he? “Look, I know you’re worried about Holly finding out, but this whole date thing really isn’t a big deal. I don’t mind. In fact, I think we’re going to have a lot in common.” Nick shrugged. “There are worse ways to spend Christmas than with your sister, trust me.” Like with his own family in a museum masquerading as a home.
“Good. Because things seem a little weird around here as itis.” Ryan looked over his shoulder toward the farmhouse and frowned.
“How so?”
“For starters, there are no decorations out, which is a huge red flag. No giant Frosty inflatable in the yard. No wreaths on the fence. And Mom seems a little out of it.”
Nick could definitely do without the giant snowman. “I think your parents are great.” In fact, if he’d grown up on this farm, maybe he wouldn’t have an aversion to the holidays. And if things worked out, Nick could give a similar experience to teenagers needing a second chance.
Maybe in doing so he’d find his own second chance.
“My folks love hosting people. The more the merrier, and all that.” Ryan adjusted his glasses. “I think it’s really bothering them that my other siblings aren’t coming home this year.”
“They definitely made me feel welcome.” Nick crossed his arms over his chest. “Although your dad keeps looking at me like I might propose to Holly at any moment.”
Ryan laughed. “That’s just Dad. He’s cool, don’t worry. Holly probably already told him why you’re here, so he’s maybe got that in his head. But he won’t care that you and Holly are each other’s date for the party.”
“I hope not.” Nick didn’t want to lead anyone on, especially the Sinclairs. He needed Thomas’s approval, but not to be worthy of his daughter.
Just his farm.
Nick scuffed one heel against the grass, thinking. “Maybe if it comes up, I can explain Holly and I are just connecting over being sensitive to the holidays. So he doesn’t get the wrong idea that we’re a couple or anything.”
“Bah-humbug buddies. That could work.” Ryan shrugged. “So long as Holly Bells doesn’t get wind of it, I don’t care what you tell my parents.”
“Holly Bells?” He smirked.
Ryan groaned. “Forget I said that. She especially hates nicknames, but sometimes they slip out. Holly Berry. Holly Jolly.” He grinned. “Old habits die hard.”
“My lips are sealed. On all of it.” Nick’s shoulders relaxed as they resumed walking. Holly obviously had her own reasons for her holiday aversion, and he couldn’t wait to talk to her one-on-one and find out what those reasons were. In a culture obsessed with Christmas, it’d be kind of nice to spend this season with someone who understood and didn’t share the hype.
A car door slammed, and a mix of voices, some young, filled the front yard.
