Page 9 of Sincerely Not Yours

“I’d prefer not to go to jail.” Wishing she could do that—but knowing she couldn’t—Gigi sipped her drink. “Plus, it needs to be someone from the company and Dean seems intent on sending his brother.”

“Why don’t you make every single activity completely miserable for Harris until he gives up and sends someone else?” Alice asked as she knitted, her eyes on the needles like she hadn’t just come up with an idea that was completely devious . . . and genius.

Gigi and Paige stared at her. Alice was sweet and innocent, but mess with one of her friends and her claws came out.

“That—” Gigi started, lowering her margarita from her lips. “Might work.”

Alice smiled mischievously. “What’s your event tomorrow? We can brainstorm ideas to make Harris squirm.”

Paige jumped up from the chair. “This is going to require another batch of margaritas!” She spun toward the kitchen.

Gigi laughed, the stress of the day melting away. This was why she loved her friends—one of the many reasons. They supported each other through everything, no matter how big or small.

“Tomorrow is Christmas karaoke,” Gigi started. “‘Merry-oke,’ to be exact. And I need an idea for a song. Something completely obnoxious.”

Chapter Five

Harris stepped into the dueling piano bar, not excited to spend his Saturday evening surrounded by strangers, especially when he laid eyes on the onslaught of holiday cheer. He’d been to Sing-Alongs Tavern before, many years ago, before he moved to New York. But the usually dimly lit, lively bar had been transformed into a Christmas nightmare, practically glowing from the inside out.

Strands of twinkle lights and green garland covered every surface and most of the ceiling. A large Christmas tree dominated one corner of the bar, adorned with baubles and silver tinsel. Two garishly dressed pianists occupied the dueling pianos, which sat on a raised stage against the back wall. Were they supposed to be elves? Muppets? Harris cringed as the crowd sang along with the pointy-hat-pianists, belting out “Deck the Halls.”

“This is going to be a long night,” he grumbled to himself, just as a hostess approached, sporting a Santa hat.

“Happy Holidays,” she greeted with too much pep, the end of her red hat swinging. “Do you have a reservation? We’re completely booked this evening.” She gave an apologetic gaze, batting her eyelashes.

“I’m here for SheTime. Should be on the list. Harris Ryan.”

“Oh,” the hostess perked up again. She scanned her computer screen, clicked, and smiled. “Perfect. I can show you to your table. This way, please.”

This was anything but perfect. Still, Harris followed her through the packed bar, weaving through tables occupied with people adorned in tacky Christmas attire. Harris looked to be the only person not dressed in a costume. He smoothed down the front of his collared shirt and adjusted his jacket, wondering when Chicago had lost its sense of style.

“Here you go,” the hostess said, setting a menu on the high-top table. “The other rep from SheTime is over by your product display. She can bring you up to speed on the schedule tonight. Your server will be by shortly.”

As the hostess wandered off, Harris scanned the bar, past clinking glasses and groups of off-key patrons, singing loudly. The festive madness was already fraying his nerves. Could he get away with a neat whiskey, even though this was a work event? Maybe he’d only stay long enough to see what the company was paying for. How in the heck would this positively affect their bottom line? He wanted to go straight back to his brownstone and enjoy a stiff glass of aged Kentucky bourbon in peace.

As Harris removed his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair, Gigi appeared. She popped out of the crowd, taking him by surprise.

“You’re underdressed!” she yelled her greeting over the singing patrons. Harris turned, immediately losing his train ofthought when he took in her outfit. His mouth opened, but there were no words. Gigi outshone the Christmas tree in the corner.

Just like their first encounter, she sported a Christmas sweater, but this one was a holiday billboard—bright red with a huge, fuzzy Christmas tree covering the front. Blinking lights protruded from the tree, glowing in an array of colors. Harris gawked. There had to be a substantial battery pack hidden under her shirt.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see you coming,” he uttered, without thinking.

“What?” She tilted her head, shaking a headband full of sparkling, round ornaments that sat atop her dark, shoulder-length hair like a crown.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, thankful when the last chords of “Deck the Halls” ended, and the singing stopped.

As the crowd clapped and found their seats, Gigi dug into the tote bag on her chair. “Didn’t Dean send you the details for tonight?” It was a little easier to hear her as the crowd wound down.

“No. He just told me when and where to be.”

“Hmm.” Gigi smiled, like she had something up her sleeve. “Good thing I brought an extra sweater.” She tugged a red-and-green monstrosity from her bag, holding it up for Harris to see. He nearly gagged. The entire front of the sweater was a cartoon-like reindeer head, complete with felt antlers that protruded like sad, crooked fingers.

“Excuse me, what?” he asked, horrified. “What is that for?” She did not expect him to wear that, did she?

“You can throw it on over your shirt. Come on.” She shook the sweater, clearly delighted with her reveal. “We don’t have much time.”

“Time for what? What is happening?”

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