Page 60 of Mistletoe Latte

Oh no.

“That’s a shame,” Desiree said, all sweetness as she rushed to Nick’s side. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He snorted and shook his head. “She’ll tear your head clean off. You’re better off going to the dance without her.”

“Alone?” Abby squeaked.

Pity swam through Emma for the poor girl who’d no doubt been planning on spending the night dancing with her friend. “Why don’t I try?” she offered.

Desiree snickered, but Nick tapped his lip. “That might work. She likes you. Just…” He reached over and took Emma’s arm. Lowering his voice, he whispered, “Don’t look her in the eye, or she might charge.”

Emma laughed and strained for his fingers to give them a squeeze. The side of her face burned from Desiree’s death glare. Not wanting to get in the middle of the divorcee dance, Emma hightailed it up the stairs.

Before she was out of earshot though, Desiree struck. “I didn’t know you were hiring people from AARP. That’s quite generous.”

“What? Emma? She’s not even thirty.”

“Really? She wears more makeup than a grandmother in a beauty pageant.”

That one struck deep. Emma clenched a hand over her chest and ran up the last of the stairs. She missed whatever Nick said, her heart unable to take it. Skylar’s angry music thumped the door on its hinges. Carefully, Emma raised her fist and gave a soft knock.

“Skylar?” she called to her. “Do you want to talk?”

“Isheout there?” she snarled.

“No. It’s just me.”

Only the screaming singer filled the air. Emma shifted, uncertain what to do, when Skylar said, “It better be.” The door flung open. Her pink and blond hair was done up at the front and waves cascaded down the back. Unfortunately, her eyes matched her dye job—the entire area pink and inflamed from the tears still on her cheeks.

“What’s the matter? Why don’t you want to go to the dance? Is it about…Antonio?”

Skylar screamed, “No! It’s because I’m ugly!” She flung herself onto her bed and buried her face into the mattress. Emma took a quick look down the hall, then stepped in after.

“You are not.”

“Yes, I am,” she mumbled into her comforter before turning around to show her. “Look!” Skylar pointed to two relatively small zits on her chin. “They’re hideous and massive! I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

“Oh.” Emma wanted to laugh at the minor problem, but she knew better. This was life and death after all. “Dear, no one will—”

“Don’t say they won’t notice. They fucking will. They’ll call me ziti face until the day I die.” Skylar slammed her face back down into the blanket and moaned.

Dropping to her knees, Emma gently rubbed a hand over Skylar’s back. “What if we cover them up?”

“There’s not enough concealer in the world!” she screamed to the sky. Emma looked to her desk to find small tubes scattered across it. “I tried everything and nothing works.”

Rising, Emma inspected the drugstore makeup. It wasn’t the right color and looked chalky on the applicator. No wonder. Poor thing, this stuff was ancient.

“Let me get my kit,” she said and dashed down the stairs. Nick and Desiree sat on the couch while Abby was forced to stand. At the sound of Emma getting into her luggage, he looked over.

“How’s it—?”

“Working on it.” Once equipped with her arsenal, Emma rejoined Skylar who was at least sitting up. “Don’t pop it.” She warned. “Trust me, it’ll only make it worse. You’re pretty light, so I might have to mix in some highlighter to make it work.” When Emma cracked her makeup case, Skylar’s eyes opened wide.

“Wow, that’s…I don’t know what half of this stuff is.” She picked up a contour stick and a brow gel.

“I can show you later,” Emma said. “For now, let’s make you look as beautiful as you are.” As she went, she explained the steps. “You want this to last for the whole night, so we’ll start with a primer, then the foundation.”

Emma worked fast, hiding away the two pimples. “You’re probably going to want to toss most of your makeup. It’s too old to work right on you.”

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