Page 35 of The Holiday Honeymoon Switch
“Santa and Mrs. Claus have an outrigger canoe?”
“In Hawaii they do. And it’s pulled by dolphins.” Her mouth drops open. “Itoldyou. You have to see this.” He has a kid-at-Christmas look on his face, which has, of course, coaxed his cute dimple out again. She can’t help but smile now, his enthusiasm contagious. “Then everyone follows the tree, with the Clauses leading the way, of course.”
“That sounds a bit like a parade…”
He ignores her. “Andthenthe ceremonial lighting happens in the middle of town.” His sea green eyes are dancing with true delight now. “It’s my favorite thing on this island, and I have very high standards for favorite things. The evergreen gets decorated and lit up,andall the palm trees in town that have been decorated in advance light up, too. It’s a sight to see, Ivy, I swear—guaranteed to soften even the hardest heart.”
“Hey, I do not have a hard heart,” Ivy says.
“I know that.” Oliver’s tone is thoughtful now, serious. He’s looking at her closely, the way he did when they first met—as if he’s trying to decode her, figure her out.
Ivy lifts her chin and says, “I’m sorry, I can’t go back out there. I have to avoid Matt.”
“See, that’s what I don’t get,” Oliver says. He rubs onehand over the golden stubble on his jaw, and his shirt rides up, but she manages to keep her eyes on his face and not his chiseled abs as she reminds herself of how very much she likes Larry. “Why does this guy get away with messing with your friend’s lifeandruining your holiday? Why are you letting him?”
“I’m notlettinghim,” Ivy says, defensive now. “If I could avoid him completely, I would.”
“I’ll keep an eye out. If we see him, I’ll hide you.”
“What, are you going to magically turn into a giant hedge?”
He grins. “Maybe? You don’t know my superpowers yet, Ivy.” He reaches down and lowers the brim of her Expos cap so it covers more of her face. “There. You’re in disguise. I’ll be your invisibility cloak, okay? No one sees you unless you want them to. I’ve got you, Ivy.”
Ivy and Oliver fall into easy step, staying close beside each other in the crowded, bustling town.
“So, I think you’ll like this story,” Oliver says as they walk. “Today, Matt asked me for an island breeze, and I told him I was out of pineapple juice. He said he’d take it with orange juice, and I told him I was out of vodka. Then, when I happened to walk past him at the pool, I ‘accidentally’ spilled his blue lagoon all over his Tommy Bahama floral button-up.”
Ivy laughs. “Thank you for actively participating in a vendetta even though you barely know the parties involved. I appreciate it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I barely knowyou,” he says. “And I know what he did to your friend.”
They’ve arrived at the beach. A group of children are already gathered on the sand, all of them abuzz with anticipation as the holiday tree comes into view, then makes its way across the bay on a barge towed by a catamaran. The tree is greeted on the shore by cheers and whistles, then hauled onto a flatbed by a waiting crew.
“Just wait,” Oliver whispers as the jubilant crowd turns back to the ocean. “Santa and his wife are a local couple,” he explains—his whispers in her ear sending tingles up and down the length of her body, no matter how hard she tries to fight the sensation. “They dress up in the costumes year after year, delighting the kids on the island as they’re drawn across the bay in the outrigger canoe. Santa rings a bell and yells ‘Ho ho ho,’ and the kids run into the surf to meet them.”
“Wow,” Ivy breathes. “Theyaregetting pulled by dolphins.”
“You see? This is pure magic, isn’t it? I wish I’d brought my camera so I could take a photo of you right now.”
The idea of him taking her photo makes her heart do a treacherously excited cartwheel, but luckily, she’s distracted by Santa and Mrs. Claus climbing out of the canoeand wading to shore as the canoe and dolphins are driven back the way they came. They don’t seem to care that their festive outfits are now half soaked. They greet the children enthusiastically, delivering pats on heads and “Ho ho hos” and cries of “Have you been good this year?” as they lead the crowd through the town, following the path of the tree on the flatbed. The streets are loud with singing and laughter, but it’s a pleasant kind of loud that fills Ivy’s ears like the rushing noise inside a seashell.
In the center of town, the tree is lifted up onto its heavy stand by as many as are able to help, and strung with a cavalcade of lights in mere moments. Cheers rise up into the air again as a traditional Hawaiian band sets up on the platform beside the tree and starts playing carols. The crowd sings along in Hawaiian to familiar tunes like “The Twelve Days of Christmas” and “Deck the Halls.”
A reverent silence falls. Ivy watches as a woman dressed in red robes, a filmy yellow mantle across her shoulders, takes the stage. Her long, dark hair falls to the middle of her back. A leafy crown sits atop her head.
“That’s one of the Hanalei kahunas,” Oliver whispers, his breath warm in her ear. “Sort of like a town shaman, a healer.”
The kahuna raises her arms, and the tree illuminates as if she has conjured the light, all dazzling and golden. Across the town, palm trees strung with Christmas lights are litup, too; the world is a kaleidoscope of color. Ivyoohsandaahs, along with everyone else, completely caught up in the moment.
“Be the light,” the kahuna says to the children below her, a sort of benediction.
Ivy stands still for a moment, letting it all wash over her. Oliver is watching her again, a huge smile on his face now.
She looks up at him. “That was awesome, Oliver. It really did cheer me up. Thank you.”
Just then, a family with three young children jostles past them, and she’s knocked closer to Oliver. He catches her by her waist so she doesn’t fall. Instead of letting her go, he gazes down at her.
“What?” she asks, self-conscious.
