Page 3 of All Foxed Up

“And now we roll up our sleeves and get this party started,” I said. “I’ll make the potato salad, you start in on the coleslaw.”

Australian Christmases aredifferent to those in the Northern Hemisphere. Like some of us are insane and still do roast turkey or lamb or whatever, but when the temperature is pretty much the same as Satan’s arse crack, things like cold cooked prawns and sliced ham and salad seem like a much better option. So we worked as a team late into the night. Nat had been trying to knock over more prep during the day, but between family dropping in and the boys rampaging through the house on a Yule induced bender, she hadn’t got far. That was OK, it was what I was here for. I started slicing up cold boiled potatoes and spring onions and that was when my mind started to wander.

I didn’t want this kind of life. I’d looked at domesticity and decided it wasn’t for me a long time ago. Like Nat and Paul? The whole town used to coo over the fact that these ‘childhood sweethearts’ were making a life together, but it felt like we were seeing two different things. I was the one that noticed the casual kind of negligence relationships seemed to devolve into, where the other person you shared your life with became this vaguely annoying presence you had to put up with, like a pound puppy you’d impulsively signed up to foster.

Before meeting Nat’s sleuth, I’d never wanted to be someone’s girlfriend, wife, the old ball and chain. From what friends told me, you couldn’t even rely on having good sex on tap. It felt like relationships were some kind of magic amulet people clutched to their chests, hoping to ward away the spectre of loneliness, but there seemed to be nothing lonelier than being in a relationship with someone and being largely ignored or overlooked. No, if I was going to take the plunge, it’d be for something like this.

The guys took their cues from Nat. She didn’t realise this, but they were always watching her, reading her, taking the temperature of the room and then adjusting their behaviour as a result. Nat was currently fretting about getting everything done on time, so Lars pulled out the food processor and Alaric set it up, plucking the carrots she’d peeled from her fingers and then pushing them through the chute. They watched her shoulders loosen a little as piles of shredded carrot appeared. Then Lars whipped up a homemade coleslaw dressing and Alaric took over chopping the cabbage and dumping it into the massive bowl, ready for tomorrow. Every time she started something else, they quickly finished the job they were doing and took over, turning her from labour into a foreman of sorts. Then Alaric pushed a glass of wine into her hands, to give them something to do.

And that’s when the tension seemed to leach out of her.

Yeah, if I could have something like that, where I mattered, where I was the centre of someone’s world, or several someones, maybe I could come at this whole relationship idea.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

Nat had bugged me and bugged me about coming to some bear shifter events when I was in town, see if I tripped any sleuth’s triggers, and while I could academically admire the big, burly specimens of taut man flesh, I didn’t feel anything special happen, and reportedly neither did any of them. It didn’t come as any surprise to me that I wasn’t fated mate material. Some people have main character energy and that was Nat all the way, but there was nothing wrong with being a support person.

“This is like the Christmas Eves we spent at your nan’s place,” Nat said, sidling closer. “Remember?”

“Nanna Madden cracking the whip, taking us to task for not cutting everything up exactly the same size.” I lifted my knife theatrically and cut up the spud before me in haphazard chunks. “No, Holly, making sure every piece is a uniform size means every mouthful is the same balance of ingredients. The old bat…” I shook my head. “She says hello and sent you one of her bloody fruit cakes.”

“Oh my god, really?” Nat started digging through the bags I pointed to with my knife. “They are amazing.” She pulled it free with a reverent look and then carried it over to Alaric. “You need to taste this cake. Want a piece, Hols?”

“See, I like dried fruit, sugar, brandy, just like the next girl, but put them all together?” I shook my head. “Fucking nope. Tastes like arse to me, so have at it. Saves me from having to turf it into the compost bin.”

“You don’t!” Nat gasped.

“Well, not where Nan can see it, or smell it.” I wrinkled my nose. “That woman, she’s got eyes in the back of her head and even if she doesn’t catch you in the act, somehow she knows what you’ve done before you even do it. Better I bring them up to you. I’m fairly sure this is just far away enough that she won’t work out what I’ve done.” I frowned, seeing my grandmother’s keen green eyes in my mind, judging me. “Maybe.”

“God, that’s good…” Lars groaned, then blinked rapidly. “And got enough brandy to kick a horse.” His focus shifted to Alaric. “We need to keep this the fuck away from the kids.”

“On the top shelf,” the other man agreed, then eyed the pantry. “In a locked box. Inside another locked box.”

“God, if I have enough slices of this, I won’t even care if the kids get to it.”

Nat rubbed her stomach, getting that sleepy look on her face that told me she was in her happy place.

“So we’ve got enough prepped for tomorrow?” I asked, cautiously testing that good mood. “You’ve got enough food here to feed an army.”

“But not several families of bear shifters,” she said, the haze quickly dissipating as she eyed the kitchen benches. “Let’s get started in on the snacks.”

I collapsedinto bed some hours later, feeling the exhaustion throbbing along with my heart, all through my body. But that was what Christmas was about. You worked hard to make sure everything was perfect, inviting friends and family into your home to share in that labour for one special day. I let out a long sigh, sinking into the lovely soft bed in the spare room and letting my eyes fall closed, and for just a moment it wasn’t hard to wonder what it’d be like if I was doing the hosting.

Nanna Madden and the rest of Dad’s side of the family walking in through the door of my place, but it wasn’t the flat above the shop. This place was open, airy, light streaming in through huge windows that showed… My brows creased as my eyes fell closed, my vision failing when I tried to press for more details. Then there were the Rileys, Mum’s side of the family, and that was a little strange.

The Rileys were a little infamous in Langston, because far too many of my second and third cousins made it into the newspaper and not for good reasons. No major crimes, but if you found your car broken into and all the spare change gone, or if you left something outside and someone swiped it, you could bet it was probably one of the Rileys who took it. Made me damn glad I grew up as Holly Madden, not Holly Riley. It was also why we rarely invited them to family events, the Maddens not wanting to have a bar of the Rileys.

But they weren’t the surprising element to this dream.

It was them.

Loud voices that drew my dreaming attention, then tall shapes, broad shoulders and a flash of reddish brown hair. Strange men were walking into my dream house like they had a right to be here and that’s what had me shifting restlessly on the bed. Somehow I knew them, with the strange logic of dreams and I was moving forward, a smile on my face, wanting to get closer. But there was Great Aunty Agnes leaning in for a kiss and telling me I was too thin, and my cousin Vinnie, saying I needed to follow this workout routine he was now using, to make me skinny thicc, whatever the fuck that meant. Mum was asking if I’d gotten the roast on and Dad was grabbing at my hand, looking for the eskies to put the slab of beer on his shoulder into, but somehow I wanted to fight my way past all of them.

Until finally I managed it.

I stumbled free of the throng, into the expansive foyer of my dream house and there, three men stood, chatting away with my family, as if that was the most natural thing in the world. But as I stared, I caught their attention. Three sets of keen green eyes, they met mine and that’s when their lips curved into a smile, the soft, kind of knowing one that comes from someone who’s seen you do the no pants dance.

“Holly, love,” one said, stepping forward, those green eyes burning bright as he drew closer. “Merry—”

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