Page 20 of Mr. Mistletoe
“Are you sure you can handle this?” Matt asks me.
My chin lifts, and I level him with a glare. “I’m perfectly capable.”
“Jess, you’re going to love going back to Starlight Bay. Remember the skating Santa?”
Matt bursts out laughing. “Who could forget? Jess about killed Christmas, taking out that Santa on the rink.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Shut up.”
Matt chortles. “I can still picture your scarf tangled up in his skates.”
I glare at him, my face burning. “That wasn’t my fault.”
“Maybe you should stay away from the rink, honey,” Gran says, patting my arm. “But after you set up at the market, stop by the Christmas Cabin and buy a cup of apple cider. It’s my yearly tradition.”
Suddenly, it hits me.Starlight Bay is Mr. Mistletoe’s territory.
The thought of running into him makes every nerve in my body come alive.
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice wobbly. “Matt, maybe you should go.”
“Sorry. Can’t. Christmas play, remember?”
Gran reaches into her bag and pulls out a folded piece of paper. It’s a list of instructions—complete with a diagram of candle placement.
I raise a brow. “You just happened to have this ready?”
Her bright blue eyes twinkle. “I like to be prepared.”
She supervises while Matt and I load the van to the brim, and then it’s time for me to go home and pack for a long weekend in Starlight Bay.
Gran folds me into a warm hug. “Don’t forget to have fun,” she says. “You’re gonna love The Sugar Plum Inn. It’s perfect at Christmas.”
“Don’t die of boredom while I’m gone,” I tell my brother.
In a rare show of affection, he pulls me into a hug. “Be safe,” he says.
Tears sting behind my eyes, and I blink rapidly before he can see. I’m the crier in a family of stoics—the artist daughter of two attorneys and the sister of a CEO.
Thank God for Gran, the original black sheep. She’s the only one who gets me.
I wave at them through watery eyes, trying to smile. I’ve been a total wreck since getting rejected by the top boutique in the city. Restless and uncertain, I’m not sure where I belong anymore.
Maybe a weekend away—candles, cider, and anonymity—is exactly what I need.
Chapter Ten
Clark
My fake beard’sbeen yanked so many times, I don’t know how much longer it’ll last. And I’m wearing sweatpants because some kid peed on my Santa pants.
Once upon a time, I skated around a rink to cheers from adoring fans. Now I’m being peed on by a sticky-fingered toddler.
“I brought you some cider,” my elf assistant, otherwise known as Janet, says, handing me a mug.
I take a long, grateful sip before the next kid climbs into my lap. It’s a little girl who wants aLabubu—whatever the hell that is.
Then comes a boy who wants a video game.
