Page 31 of Izzy and Her Off-Limits Love

She giggles, but I’m not even kidding.

At the end of the day, when I’m packing up the conference room for the last time, shaking her boss’s hand, I can’t shake thefeeling that Ishouldtake her with me. Especially when I see her putting things back in her cubicle, where the nosy co-worker she mentioned is already watching again.

Then her boss goes and says, “I’m glad Isabel did an okay job. She’s probably not the one I would have picked as a little helper, but at least she didn’t screw anything up.”

His laugh is patronizing, and I have a sudden horrible vision of Izzy spending the next ten years working in a cubicle with this guy mansplaining things and never giving her a chance to rise. It’s a timely reminder that while nonprofits do a lot of good, that doesn’t mean they’re different than any other business in having both good and bad people work there.

“Izzy is brilliant and did an amazing job. I might have needed another few days or even a week to finish training if it hadn’t been for her. I think you’re underutilizing her if she’s not involved in staff training and development. You know she has her master’s degree, right?”

It’s all true, though maybe over the top. Especially since her boss basically waves off everything I said.

I swear, it’s the only bad part of the entire week, knowing this is Izzy’s job, and she’ll have to return here after Christmas. Return to a boss who doesn’t see her potential and a cubicle-mate who seems to be spying on her every move. I donotfeel good about this for her.

“Are you okay?” she asks as we’re finally leaving the city and driving across the bridge to Oakley. “Nervous about our little plan?”

I have no nerves about our plan, which is all in good fun if it works, and no big deal if it doesn’t. Ultimately, our family is going to lose their minds over Izzy and me getting together, and if we can have a little fun with them to pay them back for what they did, then great.

I’m still thinking about her miserable job. And I need to stop.

“I’m good. Sorry. Just thinking about … work.”

Izzy gives me a playful shove. “No more work. It’s Christmas! Let’s just agree to not think about the magical week we worked together and focus on revenge. And,” she says, leaning across the console to kiss my cheek, “about all the places on Oakley Island we need to christen with kisses.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

But even as we shift the conversation to lighter things, my brain keeps humming in the background, mulling over Izzy’s work situation.

Finally, as we’re pulling into the driveway of the inn that used to belong to Eloise, Merritt, and Sadie’s grandmother, I’ve come up with a workable solution. At least, I hope I have. I just need to talk to Uncle Benedict first.

TEN

Liam

The moment Izzyand I walk through the front door, we’re met with cheers and hugs. Mom and Eloise are the first to reach us, and as I meet Izzy’s eyes, we each give a quick nod.

It’s go-time.

Over the years, holidays have progressed from being a chill affair to a hotbed of chaos and a cacophony of voices. Just saying hello takes a good ten minutes, and that’s not including the kids scurrying underfoot.

I can still remember when holidays were just me, Mom, Uncle Jake, and Grandpa Ned. Now, we don’t even all fit in the main dining room at the inn. The double doors are open, and there are a few long folding tables set up in the entry hall to accommodate.

“Go change,” Mom says, handing over a set of pajamas. “We’re just about ready to eat.”

“Let me register my vote of dissent about the dress code,” I say, eyeing the green and red striped pajamas. This year, they’reall one piece like some kind of unisuit. With feet. Most adults already have them on, and it looks like a bin of human candy canes exploded.

“I’ve heard your complaint and filed it with the department of I Don’t Care,” Mom says, giving my cheeks a pinch. “Now go put those on so we can eat.”

I see that Eloise has done the same for Izzy, and we head to the same bathroom off the kitchen where we take turns changing. As she comes out of the bathroom, her cheeks are pink. She looks cute but also ridiculous.

“There’s a surprise,” Izzy mutters. She spins, backing away from me so I can only see her front. Part of the plan includes the two of usnotacting like a couple, but my hands still twitch as she passes by, itching to reach out and touch her.

“I’m excited to find out,” I say.

But I’m far less excited when I realize the surprise is that the pajamas have a butt flap. As in, a little flap with a snap closure on either side. Awesome if you need to go to the bathroom in a hurry. Less awesome if you have two nephews who find it hilarious to yank them open at will.

By the time I have a glass of water in hand and make it to the table, I’ve seen a lot of underwear. Thankfully, Davy and Danny are only attacking the men in the group, though that could be because their Aunt Merritt caught them reaching for Izzy’s flap and gave them a scathing look fiery enough to melt an iceberg.

“Okay!” Aunt Sadie stands on a chair and claps her hands. “Everyone find and take your seats! Davy—don’t you dare slide down that banister and wreck the garland!”

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