Page 86 of Holly and Nick Hate Christmas
I just dropped my Christmas cookie on the floor and I’m not even mad about it. Tell meeverything.
There was mistletoe.
I’m buying you a dictionary for Christmas, so you can understand the full definition of the word “everything.”
Fine. There was mistletoe and he tasted like peppermint and coffee and I don’t think the man has ever skipped arm day and for a moment there really was peace on earth. There. Is that better?
Much.
But there was mistletoe.
You said that already.
Because I don’t know what it means.
Back to the dictionary. Mistletoe means you kiss when you stand under—oh.Oh.
Yeah…exactly. Was it real?
1 minute later
You’re eating that cookie off the floor, aren’t you?
Even when hating Christmas, I can’t bring myself to hate Christmas food.
I snagged another cinnamon-sugar pecan as we strolled through the red-and-white-striped gate in front of the mall’s biggest department store. I definitely required sustenance to survive this outing. Mason and Janie had finally gotten their wish—we’d all loaded up an hour ago to hit the mall when it opened.
Shoppers in bulky coats and teenagers in low-rise jeans strode past us, while mothers posed tired toddlers in front of the Charlie Brown tree photo op. Fathers gathered in bunches, sipping coffee and sharing golf scores as the line to see Santa grew.
“Wow.” Nick let out a low whistle as he took it all in. “Is this Santa’sactualworkshop?”
“Point Bluff Mall doesn’t play.” I gestured my arm like a game show host around the village that had transformed a third of the mall into a winter wonderland. “I grew up coming here as a kid. Until…”
“Until you stopped liking Christmas?” Nick peered up at the ceiling, where a giant inflatable guitar, rocking horse, teddy bear, and other classic toys hung from strings.
But I couldn’t look away from him. Nick looked incredibly appealing today in a gray long-sleeve tee, open jacket, and dark jeans. Dimple on full blast. Totally calm and casual, like it was just another day—not the day after we’d shared an incredible kiss that had yet to be discussed.
“Let’s just say I outgrew it.” I forced my stare away from the beard he’d trimmed, leaving only a scruffy shadow along his jaw that Ireallywanted to touch. But if Nick wasn’t going to talk about last night, I sure wasn’t going to bring it up. I would just assume it had been part of Operation: Jack & Sally. If that’s all it was to him, that’s all it was to me.
Even if I wanted to skip to the front of the line and ask Santa for one more kiss from Nick before New Year’s.
“Outgrew Santa?”
“Well, yeah. I think the last time we came I was about fifteen.” I did quick math. “Which made Kat ten and Chloe five.”
Nick winced. “I bet that was interesting.”
“That’s one way to put it.” I shot a glance up the decorated corridor, where the rest of my family stood several paces ahead. “Not sure if Santa is ready for us. Our track record isn’t exactly great.”
“What happened?” Nick dug a pecan from my cellophane bag and popped it in his mouth. “Wait. Is sharing food on the list of approved Operation: Jack & Sally activities?” He winked.
I gave him a pointed look. “You do realize that the stand where I got these sells more?”
“Great. When we run out, I’ll buy another one.” Nick scooped out another handful, his grin impish and adorable and…goodness, had someone cranked up the heater? “So tell me. What did Chloe do? Or wait—I bet it was Kat.”
“It was both of them. Fist fighting.”
“What?” Nick coughed on a pecan. His eyes watered and he choked back a laugh. “How does a five-year-old get into a physical fight?”
