Page 22 of Three Days of Holiday

Okay, well done.

Now to tackle problem two.

The stairs squeaked with my steps, but I held my head high. It was a survival tactic I learned as a small child. You could not show an ounce of fear around any of the Halliday boys or they would eat you alive.

Hale sat on the couch in the living room and I stubbornly turned my head when he twisted around to talk to me.

“That’s the way it’s gonna be? I wanted to apologize, but not now if you’re going to be stuck up about it,” Hale said and then turned back to the television, turning it up louder.

From what I saw, the rest of the home was empty, but I didn’t let my gaze travel far because that would be a sign I expected them.

I made it down the final step and turned toward the kitchen before I relaxed my shoulders. The holidays were super busy times on the farm, so at least I had that going for me. I’m sure they’d find their way to annoy me somehow, eventually.

My mother leaned over the kitchen counter, rolling dough out with one of her favorite rolling pins. It once belonged to my great-grandmother when they ran the farm at Oceanview Orchards.

“What are you making?” I asked, stopping beside her with a hip against the laminate countertop.

“A pie. You want to help?”

I shook my head and took a seat at the kitchen table, prepared to watch her. I’d never been any good at stuff in the kitchen.

“You mad at me too?” I asked her when she returned to her dough rather than start a conversation with me.

My mother placed the rolling pin to the side and turned to face me—a sure sign I wouldn’t like what she was about to say. “Holly, Hale isn’t mad at you. He’s worried.”

It was obvious by her comment that my family brought her up to speed about what happened in the parking lot. Hope probably gave my mother a second-by-second breakdown and even drew a picture.

I flipped my shoulders up to fake indifference. “It was just a kiss.”

“Your sister said it was a big kiss,” she said, her eyes wide and a slight smile across her lips.

Hope was definitely being added to my revenge list.

“What does she know? She’s never even been kissed.” Probably.

My mother shook her head and almost turned back to her dough, but she paused a second before she did. “But a Causebay, Holly?”

That was the problem. That would always be theproblem. It wasn’t just the last name. It was a family legacy.

We knew if a Causebay and a Halliday got together, it’d rip a hole in the universe and swallow up the Earth. My mother was only protecting the poor innocent souls Will and I were destined to kill.

Still, my heart fell with the realization that even my mother questioned my actions. I twisted my shoulders up again to another shrug and then stood to leave.

Mom returned to her dough. Dough didn’t talk back to her. Dough didn’t go around kissing Causebays in public parking lots.

“You know that whatever you choose, I’ll support you, but make sure your choices are worth it,” she said and then beat the dough one last time in its lumpy corner with her rolling pin.

I shuffled out of the kitchen up to the front door, flipping my brother off as he shouted swear words at me from the couch.

I needed a safe place to go in Pelican Bay. Someplace with women to give me friendly advice or basically agree with whatever I said. Only one place came to mind.

My visit that day would be double duty. I needed girl advice and to place an order with Anessa for Christmas cookies. We’d already laid out a few of the details, but now that I knew the theme, I could finalize the order. I also finally had enough energy to get out of bed since I knew Will didn’t need a nose job.

I still had a competition to win and needed Anessa to get baking.

We wanted to do a graham cracker cookie with melted marshmallow and a chunk of chocolate inbetween each of them. It was wildly decadent and hopefully would put the event judges into a sugar coma so they’d have to vote for me. I even wanted to borrow a blowtorch and add a little authenticity to the marshmallows. For safety’s sake, I planned to wait and ask my brothers to let me use an open flame until after they forgot about the kiss.

Later I’d go to town and buy those little Sterno can tabletop firepits to put in the middle of every table and long skewers so people could roast their own marshmallows in the comforts of the convention center.

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