Page 17 of A Mistletoe Mix Up
I roll my eyes, flipping the pancakes. “Good. Because if I find out you’ve been sharing my top-secret recipe, there will be consequences.”
“What kind of consequences?” His eyebrow lifts.
“The worst kind! You’ll be banned from all future pancake breakfasts for starters.”
A gasp escapes him in faux horror. “Not the pancakes!”
I giggle at his theatrics. “Better be on your best behavior.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Nine
Grayson
My patrol shift ends after sunset, and the streets of Oakridge Hollow take on a cozy glow with holiday decorations filling Main Street. The lampposts are wrapped in greenery and sparkly ornaments, and the shop windows are covered in scenes of snowmen and reindeer in the snow.
It reminds me that it’s time to start decorating Gramps’s house, too. I need to pull the decorations from the garage and hang the lights along the house for him. If I don’t, he’ll climb up that ladder himself, and that’s the last thing I need him to do.
As I approach the house, it’s…brighter. A lot brighter. Beaming, you might say. I step out of my truck and stare at the house. Blinking, multicolored lights are wrapped around, well, everything. The porch pillars, the edges of the windows, and the roof. Even the bushes out front are covered in a blanket of twinkling rainbow lights. It’s bright enough to guide an aircraft to a safe landing.
And through the front window, I see even more lights—and not just the usual yellow glow from the living room. No. A riot of red, green, purple, and blue lights flashes inside, like a rave in full swing.
And there’s only one person I know who’d decorate a house like this.
I open the door, greeted with classic Christmas music blasting from the record player speakers. Despite the Christmas explosion in our living room, the sight warms my heart. Gramps is sitting in his armchair, a steaming mug in his hands. Atop his head is a Santa hat, the pom-pom bouncing as he nods his head to “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” by Andy Williams. Jet is lying on the floor next to him, sleeping.
Following Gramps’s gaze, I spot Tandy perched on a ladder, decorating the fireplace mantel. She’s wearing oversized reindeer antlers, singing along to the music, while placing a long strand of garland.
Gramps waves as I gesture around the room as if to say, “Wow, what’s all this?”
He shrugs, points to Tandy, then takes a long sip from his mug.
“Tandy!” I call over the music.
She doesn’t hear me, lost in her own Christmas-decorating world. I move closer to her, ready to repeat myself, but Gramps beats me to it.
“Tandy!” His voice booms through the room.
Tandy startles at the sound, twisting so fast the ladder begins to sway beneath her. She lets out a shriek as I lunge forward, one hand on the ladder and one reaching for her. But she topples off backwards. There’s nothing graceful about it. Her feet cling to the rung on the ladder while her arms windmill wildly.
I try to catch her, but her elbow connects with my cheekbone. Down we go in a tangle of limbs. The garland she was placing rains down around us, followed by a dusting of artificial snow, covering us like a white Christmas.
We both land in the middle of the living room with Tandy sprawled on top of me, her red curls shielding her face.
“Still alive, Bookworm?” I ask, brushing the hair from her eyes.
She peeks up at me, a soft giggle escaping her lips. “Yes. Are you?”
Her gaze meets mine, and I can’t help but smirk. Something flutters in my chest, and I become aware of her weight against me, her face close enough that I can see flecks of gold in her hazel eyes.
“I’m good.”
Despite the throbbing spot on my jaw where her elbow hit, I mean it. This whirlwind of a woman—the one who turns the mundane moments into adventures—lies in my arms. The one who brightened up this house, who brightens up my life.
She bites her bottom lip, attempting to hide a smile.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, trying to keep the grin off my face.
