Page 74 of Never Sleigh Never
“No, sit here for optimal TV viewing. It’s the best spot in the house. At least that’s what Dad says.”
Brie bites her lip, trying not to laugh. “Well, I can’t argue with the best spot in the house.”
The three of us squeeze in. Brie shifts, her thigh brushing mine, and a jolt of heat shoots through me. God help me. Her scent, her warmth, her smile tugging at the corner of her lips—it takes every ounce of my being to keep my eyes glued to the TV instead of her mouth. A month ago, we were mortal enemies. Now? The only war I’m fighting is keeping my hands to myself.
During the first five songs, Josie shimmies on the couch, Brie’s belting lyrics into an invisible mic, and I’m tapping my foot like I’m not secretly the biggest Swiftie in the room. If anyone asks, I’ll deny it.
Halfway through, Josie hops up. “I’m going to grab something from my room.”
“Want me to pause it?” I ask.
She waves me off. “I know what happens.” Then she scampers upstairs, leaving me alone with Brie.
“She’s a great kid,” Brie says softly. “You did an amazing job raising her.”
“Thanks. But honestly? She came out amazing all on her own.” My voice drops, unguarded.
Two more songs pass with no sign of Josie. “I’m going to check on her.” I jog upstairs and peek in her room. It’s mostly dark, with the only light coming from a small nightlight in the corner. Blankets drape over the bed, forming the perfect outline of a tiny body. My daughter is plotting something but now is not the time for a discussion. Silently, I close the door and return downstairs.
“I guess she went to bed.”
“Maybe the snowman marathon wore her out,” Brie says, tucking one leg under herself on the couch.
“Maybe.” I drop onto the cushion beside her. “Though if I let her, she’d be awake until four in the morning playing on her tablet. How is everything else going with the festival?”
Brie laughs, then sighs. “Good. Stressful. But good.”
“I thought you thrived at this planning stuff. What has you so stressed?”
She fiddles with a loose strand of hair. “For starters, Mrs. Kingsley has given me impossible task after impossible task, which makes it slightly more difficult on top of organizing the festival.”
“Like what?”
“After she heard about Emma St. Claire being in town, she insisted I get an interview with her.”
“You did that. So it wasn’t impossible.” I rest my arm on the back of the couch.
“But it also wasn’t the most newsworthy blog post. I wanted the focus to be on the festival, not my personal life. Mrs. Kingsley also wanted me to find a new Santa, which, let me tell you, was not an easy feat two weeks before Christmas. And on top of it all, I’m still trying to prove I deserve the event coordinator position. I’ve always been second place. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. And now you waltz back into town with your carnival, and suddenly I’m scrambling to keep my dream alive.”
“I didn’t mean to take the spotlight off you by any means. This was something I needed to do for myself and Josie.”
“It’s okay. Luckily, I had a few extra activities tucked up my sleeve to help draw a crowd. But this is my one shot. Possibly my last shot at getting this position. The Holly Jolly Festival needs to be the biggest and best event this town has ever seen. Or I might as well throw in the towel and give up.”
I reach over, brushing my fingers along her shoulder until they tangle in her hair. “I’ve been a competitor my entire life, especially with hockey, and I think the one thing that made me even better was competition. Made me sharper. Someone set the bar, and I figured out how to shatter it. Don’t think of it as me ruining your chance, but I’m pushing you to exceed your expectations.” Her chin tips up, eyes locking on mine. Warm, defiant, vulnerable. “I think you might be a little surprised at what you can do.” She nods but doesn’t say anything. I hope she believes me. I didn’t come back to Mount Holly to ruin any chance she had with the festival and a promotion. Poor timing.
She leans against the back of the couch and tips her head toward the ceiling. “You know, I always loved this house. Well, from the outside, anyway. I never got a chance to see the inside until I brought you home from the Crooked Reindeer.”
I mimic her pose. “Is that so? What made you love it so much?”
“The wrap-around porch,” she says dreamily. “I pictured myself with a book on the swing in the summer or stringing garland and lights around the railing at Christmas.”
I turn to face her and lower my voice. “I have the swing in the garage. All it takes is a couple of hooks.”
Her eyes flick to mine, laughter bubbling in her throat. “Are you talking dirty to me right now?”
I lean closer, brushing her knee with mine. “I might even have a spare set of lights out there too.”
She snorts, her cheeks flushing. “You really do know the path to a girl’s heart.” But then she sighs, reluctant. “It’s late. I should head home. Tomorrow’s the cookie bake-off, and I’ll be busy making sure Mrs. Walters doesn’t bake with her son’s cannabutter again.”
