Page 21 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
The man was a menace to society, or at least to my family.
My mom, sister, and sister-in-law oohed and aahed, while the men looked like they wanted to toss their cookies—even though they’d all been saps when they’d started dating their wives.
“So, tell us your story while I whip up some French toast for breakfast.” Mom threw on her apron.
“Here, let me help.” I launched myself out of Jack’s arms. I was getting way too comfortable in them.
“I’ll help, too.” Jack followed me.
“Great. You two can cut strawberries while you dish.” Mom wasn’t letting ourtalego.
“I’ll let Jack tell it. He’s the better storyteller.”
And oh, what a story it was.
Why hadn’t we come up with our fake story yet? Crap. Now, I was afraid of what Jack was going to say. I’d just given him carte blanche, and knowing him, he was going to run with it. But my mind was stressed to the max and living off little sleep, so I knew whatever I said would sound contrived and unbelievable. It was insane that I was so worried about selling this farce to my family. Freaking tabloids. And Sienna.
Jack sidled right up to me and pulled the bowl of washed strawberries toward us.
“Well, what can I say? Ivy has captivated me from day one. It just took her a little longer to see my appeal, but I’m happy she did.” He nudged me playfully.
It was basically the same thing he’d said to me on the plane. I could live with that. You know, until I had to admit it was all a lie. Or would it be awful if instead I told my parents we decided we were better off as friends?
“That’s very sweet,” Mom commented as she cracked eggs one handed like a pro. “But we need more details.”
“Not too many.” Shane shuddered.
I rolled my eyes. Why my siblings thought Jack and I were some wildly oversharing couple, I had no idea. Unless, of course, they thought every bed squeak had been, well, you know. I briefly considered how fast we could get a new bed delivered—only to realize that would probably make it worse. Then everyone would think we needed more room to, uh . . . yeah. I was in a no-win situation here.
Mom threw Shane a warning glance. “I just meant like when and how did it happen?”
Jack’s eyes sparked mischievously. He had something cooked up already, and I knew I was about to regret giving him free rein.
“It was a magical night. Wasn’t it, darlin’?”
“Uh, yeah. Magical.” I grabbed a knife. Given how frayed my nerves were, grabbing something sharp was probably not the best decision.
Everyone, including all my nieces and nephews, were giving us their rapt attention. Dad had even entered the kitchen now. And I knew he wasn’t fond of the bedroom-sharing situation, no matter how “with the times” my mom said they were.
“Do you want to tell this part?” Jack gave me an out.
I racked my brain trying to think of what I could say. I wasn’t good under pressure. But this could be my saving grace.
“I was cutting his hair,” I blurted.
Jack’s brows knit together, questioning where that had come from, since it was in no way magical.
“Did you run your fingers through his hair in a soul-stirring way?” Drew laughed.
“Maybe I did.” I owned it, digging myself a bigger hole.
Jack just shook his head.
“Don’t tease your sister. I bet it was so cute.” Mom attempted to save me, but even she didn’t look all that convinced that it was a magical moment.
“It was super cute.” I grabbed a strawberry and hacked it.
Jack placed his hand over mine, all tenderly like a boyfriend would, before I murdered anotherstrawberry.
