Page 9 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
The snow still fell softly on the island, and he wanted to stretch his legs. See the island again at his own pace. “Nah, I’m just going to head home. Thanks, man.”
They said their goodbyes, and Jonah headed down the boardwalk, taking Marina Way up to Blueberry Boulevard, the snow falling harder by the time he reached the corner of Main Street. Probably made more sense to explore the new and improved downtown in the light of day.
He hightailed it past Blueberry Hill Park and Rose Road, turning west on Poppy Place, where he finally approached home. At least, the home he’d grown up in. He supposed it wasn’t his home any longer. It belonged to Holland, the youngest White and the one with the biggest house since she’d bought it from their parents a year and a half ago with the inheritance money she’d received from their grandpa. His other three sisters lived in a house they rented together on the mainland, and he still didn’t understand why they didn’t relocate to the island and move in with Holland. Her bills had to be through the roof. Or maybe she still had enough inheritance to cover those as well.
The house didn’t look anything like it had when Jonah was growing up in it. Holland had put her mark on it in more ways than one. Gone was the dingy-brown siding that had graced the upper level of the house. Instead, a rich dark-gray siding took its place. At least she had kept the white stones surrounding the base of the home. Holland had done a fantastic job with the renovations on the outside of the house—on the inside, too, from what he had seen via their video calls. To top it all off, she’d cut the costs of the renovations because she’d done most of it herself—with their dad’s help, but still. The youngest White had all the talent. It didn’t matter if she worked as a freelance photographer or self-taught handywoman.
The lack of lights on inside the house did surprise Jonah, however. He’d assumed everyone would have already gathered together.
When was the last time he’d talked with anyone in his family? Only a few weeks maybe, but he could have sworn the last time they talked, they’d been raving about how everyone would be coming in the week before Christmas—Mom and Dad for the entire month. And what was with no Christmas decorations? For all her classy, upscale taste in designing, Holland had a soft spot for the tacky Christmas blow-ups on the front lawn, but she hadn’t even hung Christmas lights this year.
Frowning, Jonah found the hide-a-key under a ceramic frog garden ornament thing. The only ornament in the perfectly manicured beds. Jonah would need to talk to Holland about the safety of hiding the key under the only thing that looked like a hide-a-key. It stuck out like a sore thumb.
Scents of cinnamon and citrus warmed him as he slipped the key in the lock, letting himself in before closing the door behind him with barely a click.
He could hear a movie playing in the living room. It sounded like…Star Wars? How long had Jonah tried to talk Holland into aStar Warsmarathon? She had insisted that particular franchise was highly overrated. Not to mention, from Thanksgiving on, Holland very adamantly listened to only Christmas music and watched only Christmas classics or Hallmark specials. Maybe she’d turned over a new leaf.
He set his bags down quietly next to the kitchen bar so as not to wake up his sister, who had fallen asleep on the couch. The TV flashed a commercial for toothpaste in the dark room. Dark, because for some reason, Holland hadn’t gone allElfon her house and decorated for Christmas.
And why was she asleep on the couch instead of at Daisy and Hunter’s engagement party—where he assumed the rest of his family was? Was she sick? Maybe he should just make his way upstairs and be there when everyone woke up in the morning—surprise! But where was the fun in that? No, he was going for the Jonah White entrance. One that would end in screams and rolling-on-the-floor laughing. He would tackle his baby sister in a hug.
Yep. She’d kill him.
It’d be worth it to hear her scream.
In a classic Holland move, his sister had completely covered herself in blankets and pillows. This surprise awakening was her own fault. She should have fallen asleep in her own bed.
He crept toward the couch.
Three…
Oh, the look on Holland’s face when she woke up and found him there.
Two…
This would be the best hello in White history. It would trump the time Holland and his sisters had driven all night to see him in Norfolk years ago for his birthday.
One…
Jonah sucked in a deep breath and, as loud and deep as he could make his voice, declared, “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal!”
The person on the couch—a woman with dark-brown hair instead of his sister’s blonde—sat up, took one look at him, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
ChapterThree
She was going to die.
Forget about dying by deadline. Bronte Parker was going to die at the hands of the man—theverynice-looking man—who was looming over her.
The man let out a string of expletives, only they weren’t quite curse words. Instead, she heard words like “son of a nutcracker.”
What axe murderer didn’t know how to curse?
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t here to unalive her.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” she asked while scanning the side table next to her for something to defend herself. Not that the man in front of her would hurt her—at least, she didn’t think he would. Wouldn’t he have already tried something when she’d been asleep? And what murderer in their right mind would loudly shoutHome Alonequotes before killing their mark?
“Who am I?” her would-be murderer sputtered. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my sister’s house?” He looked around as if he were waiting for someone else to jump out and yell “Gotcha!”
