Page 113 of The Christmas Fix
“She funking did what?” Gannon choked on a sausage.
Henry took Gabby from him, and Drake slapped him on the back until he stopped coughing. He washed down the rest of the sausage with an entire vodka lemonade.
“She came here to prove to the network that this would be a better holiday special than some decorating contest. And while she was here, climbed aboard some guy’s fishing boat and started pulling people out of their houses.”
Gannon shook his head. “She said she gave a ride to a few people, not saved actual lives. Between my wife, my sister, and my daughter, I’m going to die young.” He took a long pull of beer.
“One of a kind, man,” Henry said, jiggling Gabby on his hip.
“I hope you don’t mind if I weigh in here,” Ricky said, brushing brownie crumbs off the front of his sweater vest. “But if a woman waltzes into your life, saves it, and then changes it, you’re totally funked.”
“I am totally funked,” Noah nodded. “What the funk do I have to offer her that would be better than L.A.?”
“If any of you assholes say ‘cock’ I’m going to murder you all,” Gannon cut in. “I don’t want to hear it about my sister.”
“No one say ‘cock,’” Henry cautioned. “I don’t feel like getting murdered before Noah’s grand gesture.”
“Stop saying ‘grand gesture,’” Noah said, picking up another vodka lemonade. They were tasting better and better. And every one of them helped dull the panic and nausea just a little more.
The doorbell rang.
“Wings!”
They trooped to the door as a pack scaring the hell out of the delivery kid.
“Uh, here you go, Mr. Yates,” he said holding up two bags of to-go containers.
Noah’s guests pounced and stripped the guy of his food like a vulture with a roadkill.
“Thanks, Edmund.”
“You having a going away party?” he asked.
“Let me ask you something, Edmund. Can I call you Edmund?”
“That’s what my mom calls me.” The boy’s voice cracked. Puberty was never kind to teenage boys.
“Edmund, if you were in love with a beautiful woman who was leaving town in less than forty-eight hours, what would you do?”
“Uh, well. I guess write her a song?”
“A song?”
Edmund’s head bobbed. “I play a mean accordion. Do you need me to serenade anyone? My rates are reasonable.”
“Thanks, Edmund. I’ll, uh, let you know.”
Noah handed over the bills and closed the door. He pushed his glasses up his nose and listened to the wing unloading chaos coming from the kitchen.
He wasn’t a risk-taker, Noah thought. But he’d had plenty of missed opportunities in life that he’d lived to regret. Was he prepared to add Cat to that list?
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Cat relaxed as a woman with the shoulders of a linebacker and soothing magic fingers rubbed creamy crap over her face. She felt like she’d run a marathon. Between finalizing tomorrow’s filming locations with Paige, installing and covering her super cool present to Merry, and taking care of her secret project, she was beat.
A swarthy masseuse named Teddy had worked out the kinks in her back and shoulders. Her nails were a pretty, festive plum, and after the facial and blowout, she’d be camera ready for tomorrow.
“This. Is. The. Best.” Sara sighed across the room. She was sporting new caramel highlights that were probably going to make Noah lose his shit because of how grown up they made her look. She and April had gone for matching red glitter nail polish. Perfect for the Christmas reveal.
