Page 51 of Holiday Hook Up

“I promise.” She touched his flannel shirt, letting her hand linger. Her beautiful brown eyes locked with his, and before he realized what he was doing, his lips were angling toward hers.

“Merry!” she blurted out.

He stepped back. Man, was he really that stupid to try to kiss her again? “Christmas,” he said. “Merry Christmas, Bethany. I’m sor—”

“I don’t feel so good.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Excuse me.” She ran from the hallway, and a few minutes later he heard the sound of her getting sick in the bathroom.

Oh, God. She was throwing up the dinner he made her eat. Taking off his coat, he headed down the hallway. “Hey, LB. Can I get you anything?”

“Water” was the only word that came from behind the closed door followed by the toilet flushing.

“On it.”

He raced into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of water from her refrigerator. Returning, he met her in the hallway. “Here.”

“Thank you. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. We’ve all been there.”

She took a sip of the water, leaning on her wall. “I should go to bed. Can you do me a favor? Blow out all the candles and lock up for me.”

“Of course.”

“Bye, Adam.” She barely looked at him as she moved into her bedroom.

Returning to her living room, he blew out the row of candles lighting up the mantle, and then the one on the coffee table, his gaze resting on the Ouija board.

What would be the harm in asking a couple questions?

He took a seat on the sofa and placed his fingers gently on the planchette.

“Mary, are you here?”

It shot in the direction of “Yes,” and this time he knew for a fact that he hadn’t guided it. “Well, hot damn, girl. Merry Christmas. Come talk to me.”

The planchette spelled out the words “Busy.”

Typical.What exactly filled your calendar when you crossed over? He hoped to have many well-lived years before he knew.

He was eager to talk to his distant cousin.

What should he ask her first? What color sweater did his mother knit him this year for Christmas? Nah. He’d find out tomorrow and be wearing it soon enough. He snapped his fingers. “Mary Berry, can you tell me this? Will I finally get my first kiss with Bethany at the First Kiss Ball next week?”

He held his breath for that answer, gaze fixed on the planchette. It slowly moved in the direction of “No.”

Damn know-it-all.

He stood. Maybe he should ask Mary if he should stop trying to kiss Bethany all together because clearly a first one between them wasn’t in the cards. “Well, nice talking to you, Mary. Hope you have a Merry Christmas from beyond. Let’s do this again after New Year’s. Maybe catch a movie at the Majestic Theater.”

He got up to leave right as the planchette’s needle began to spin.

Holy crap!He stared down at the board.

“P . . .

I . . .

Z . . .

Z . . .

A.”

Pizza?Why would she spell at that word? Was Mary hungry? He scratched his chin. “Or did it mean something else?”

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