Page 62 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell
I kept walking with a smile on my face because Jimneverargued with me like this. He was stumbling through the fight because I caught him off guard. Perhaps playing with his stubborn ass just a little could be fun. I may have broken a little in the beginning, but now it was his turn to squirm.
TWENTY-FOUR
Jim
I hadno idea what the hell had gotten into me, trying to teach my wife a lesson about her silly little prank. I wasn’t even upset about it. Hell, I thought it was clever—cute, even—that she’d gotten me back the way she had.
Now, pretending I was pissed off about it had made the whole damn thing backfire on my ass, and I was the one getting the silent treatment.
“Dr. Mitchell just finished his last surgery of the day,” Jake’s receptionist said. “He should be checking in here after his rounds in about ten minutes.”
“I’ll wait in his office,” I told her, because apparently, I now needed the professional consultation of my prankster of a brother.
“Absolutely, Mr. Mitchell.” She pressed the button to buzz me into the private offices. I didn’t care how tired Jake was—he was going to help me figure out how to unfuck this mess.
I rolled my eyes as soon as I approached his office.
Jake’s doorway was flanked by two massive candy canes, framing it like a deranged Christmas arch. Two doors down, Jace’s office had life-size snowmen standing guard.
“What the hell are you guys trying to prove with all this Christmas paraphernalia?” I asked Jace Stone, who was heading toward me from the opposite end of the hall.
“I still haven’t figured out this year’s prank,” Jace said with a chuckle. “Collin set it up with a note that said,‘May all your Christmases be white…’”
I slid my hands into my pockets and shook my head. “No doubt some sexual innuendo with that man. You all act like you’re in some kind of relationship.” I jerked my chin toward Jake’s door. “Let me guess, the candy canes mean something equally disturbing?”
“Well, Jake’s note said,‘Peppermint cheeks when the entrance creaks.’”
“Dear God.” I sighed. “Is this what goes on every Christmas when I’m not here? None of that even makes sense.”
“Sure, it does, big guy,” Jake’s voice came from behind me. He was smirking as usual. “And you know? I never imagined my shit smelling like peppermint until I tried?—”
“Save that disgusting shit for your night shifts,” I cut in before he could finish. “Spare me the visual of whatever you and Ash get up to.”
Jake gave a mock gasp. “Someone’s testy today. Could it be killing you that you can’t pretend to stay mad at Avery for more than a couple of days?”
“It’s been a damn week,” I said flatly. “We’re not on speaking terms, and she won’t so much as look at me.”
I exhaled, long and heavy, and they both exchanged that knowing smirk.
“Step into my office,” Jake said. “Fair warning—I’m no psychologist, but I’ll help however I can.”
“Good to see you, Jim,” Jace said before disappearing into his own office, leaving me to follow Jake inside.
I dropped into the chair across from his desk. “How was your surgery?”
Jake hung up his lab coat, slid into his suit jacket, and leaned against the edge of the desk. “Let’s just say the open-heart patient I operated on is looking a hell of a lot livelier than you are right now.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “It was a bad idea, making Avery think I was upset with her.”
“I told your smart ass you don’t know how to prank worth a damn,” Jake said, half-amused, half-pitying. “Dangerous territory, pulling that crap on a woman.”
“I didn’t think it would turn into this.”
“Why wouldn’t it?” Jake chuckled. “You blamed your wife for something other people did to roast your ass. Of course, she’s going to make you pay for it.”
“So, what now?”
Jake looked me over. “God, man, you look pathetic. Focus on your party and let Avery come crawling back.”
