Page 69 of The Holiday Ex-Files

You don’t know that it would go away if you decided to date again. She refused to be quiet.

I had to settle for ignoring her as several people were walking in and I was currently greeting each guest, handing out drink tickets indicating a two-drink limit, with a list of gift baskets and packages they could bid on. All proceeds were going to the shelter. People in the community had been more than generous. They had donated season ski passes, spa packages, and even a trip to Disney. Sometimes I really loved humans.

Like the human coming my way, dressed as one sexy leopard—meow. Kellie was rocking the skintight, spotted bodysuit with a tail and ears to match, especially for someone close to sixty years old. She slinked my way with her head held high. She knew she was a babe. I wondered what Jay thought of her getup. It probably turned him on, but I bet he didn’t want her to leave the house looking like the women he would hook up with on the side. The pig.

Kellie was to me in no time, wrapping me up in her arms. “Darling, how are you?” She squeezed me tight.

“I’m good. I’m so happy you could make it tonight. Look at you, hot mama.”

She laughed like she was purring. She kissed my cheek. “You look absolutely stunning. You’ll have all the schoolboys running your way tonight.”

I looked down at my prep school getup, complete with a short plaid skirt and knee-high socks. My mom had even found a Gallagher patch for my tight pink sweater. I’m not sure anyone got who I was, except Mara. I had a feeling, like Kellie, people just thought I had come as a naughty schoolgirl.

“No boys tonight,” I responded.

She patted my cheeks. “We shall see,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“No couples allowed,” I reiterated.

She laughed. “Good luck with that. I’m off to find my daughter.”

Ugh. Why did everyone think we couldn’t prevent hooking up? Not like I really needed an answer to that. But come on. It was one night. We were here for the women and children’s shelter. I didn’t sponsor this thing so I could drum up more business for myself later on. Did they not know that, statistically, Mondays were made for breaking up and we were only six weeks away from December eleventh, which is the biggest breakup day of the year? It’s true. Look it up if you must.

Anyway, people had been warned. But just a glance at this soiree would tell you that no one was heeding my words. I thought this would be more of a single mingle thing, but people had already pushed tables out of the way and made a dance floor. Fabulously stunning decorated tables, I might add, with black roses and candelabras. Our committee had worked very hard on those. It didn’t help matters that the DJ had gone from playing the Halloween-themed playlist I’d given him to some thumping booty-grinding music. And was there ever some grinding going on.

Mara warned me this was probably going to happen. But I didn’t think so, as we had the two-drink limit in place and we were Ex-Filers. Not to mention, we were barely twenty minutes into this bash. I hadn’t even been able to give my welcome speech yet.

Mara sauntered my way, looking sizzling hot in her white goddess dress and golden ram horns. I had to say, the flame eyes were killer. And people say YouTube isn’t educational. She was also wearing an I-told-you-so smile. “You doing okay?”

I looked apprehensively at the makeshift dance floor; it was a four-alarm party. Someone had dimmed the lights and turned a strobe light on. I’d told the civic center it would be more of a sophisticated mixer. It was looking more like my college days. I bit my lip. “Well, at least no one’s clothes have come off yet.” I had to practically yell so she could hear me.

Mara laughed. “The night is young,” she teased. At least I hoped she was teasing. She lasered in on her mom, who was already engaged in conversation with a couple of men who were half her age. “I just pray it’s not my mom’s. Can you believe what she’s wearing?” Mara smacked her head.

Before I could answer her, a favorite voice crooned, “Am I at the right party?”

I turned to find my old teenage dream come to life. There stood Noah, unmistakably dressed as Damon Salvatore, the vampire my seventeen-year-old self would have been willing to let suck all the blood out of her. I had a major obsession with The Vampire Diaries books, TV show, you name it, during high school and college. I literally cried when it ended. Hallmark movies had nothing on my love for the angsty young adult show. I mean, who could compete with Ian Somerhalder? Well, Noah was certainly in the running, in his black leather jacket and tight black jeans with black boots. He even wore Damon’s ring on his finger. Oh baby, I was speechless.

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