Page 111 of Holiday Friend Zones
“You’re right about that.Which is why, yes, Eli, Iwillbring Christmas spirit to your very serious, very bare cabin in the woods.”
He laughs, rolling his eyes.“Fine.But I draw the line at inflatable decorations in the front yard.”
I beam.“Noted.Guess I’ll cancel the twenty-foot snowman delivery.”
His eyes narrow.“You’re joking.”
I shrug.
“You didn’t actually order a twenty-foot snowman.”
I grin.“Guess you’ll never know.”
He groans, but he’s smiling too.
THREE
FestiveAndAccommodating
Eli
The cot creaks in protest as I sit up, and so does my spine.I’m pretty sure my body filed an HR complaint sometime around two a.m.It’s fine.Still, coming home last night to dinner already simmering on the stove?Worth a temporary spinal injury.Lauren’s chicken chili was hands down the best thing I’ve eaten in four months and not just because it didn’t come from the freezer section.It was warm and spicy and filling, but the best part… was her as my company.The entire time we ate, we talked about her day—very domesticated, but it made my cabin less like a cave and more like a home.
Honestly, I couldn’t imagine her staying anywhere else.Offering my place was the least I could do.Even if my living room currently looks like Santa’s storage unit exploded.Totes everywhere.And the peppermint candles.Good god, the peppermint candles.My house smells like a candy cane factory on steroids.Not my favorite scent—it kind of feels like I’m inhaling toothpaste, but she loves them.And since she doesn’t get to decorate her own place this year, the least I can do is lend her mine.Not like I was going to decorate anyway.
The cabin is still dark as I tiptoe into the kitchen.Her bedroom door is closed, so I assume she’s still asleep.It’s five in the morning, and no sane person is awake.Just me, my aching spine, a mug of coffee, and the sadistic cot from hell.
Before I leave, I scrawl on the whiteboard she’s taken over for “meal planning.”
Have a holly jolly day!
Look at me.Festiveandaccommodating.
At lunchtime, I swing by the festival grounds.Lauren’s in front of the vendor booths, cell phone pressed to her ear, looking like she’s two seconds away from strangling someone with garland.
“Yes, Mrs.Hayes, I understand, but with the new additions we had to restructure the walking paths,” she says, pacing a groove into the snow.“No, people will still find your stockings.Yes, I promise.No, Mrs.Hayes, that’s not necessary—Mrs.Hayes?Hello?”She pulls the phone away and stares at it.“She hung up on me.Again.”
I raise an eyebrow.“So… is now a bad time?”
Her shoulders drop.A translucent cloud billows in front of her as she huffs.“No, it’s fine.This is the third time Mrs.Hayes has called me about the booths being rearranged.Now she’s threatening to pull out of the festival.”
“Sorry, Lo.Come here.”I open my arms.
Her brows lift.“You really think a hug is going to fix this?”
“A hug from me, yes.”
She rolls her eyes but still walks into my embrace, her arms looping around my waist.I fold mine around her shoulders, settling my chin on the top of her head like it belongs there.My hands slide up and down her back without thinking.She smells like vanilla and fresh snow and something that makes my chest feel… too full.
“In case you missed it,” she mumbles into my shirt, “I’m not exactly having a holly jolly day.”
“You got my note?”
“I did.Very cute.Sadly, its effects wore off as soon as I got here.”
“So the hug isn’t helping?”
“Meh.”
