Page 50 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
Dark wood polished to a shine, set with china. Crystal glasses at every place setting. Cloth napkins folded into elaborate shapes. The walls are painted a deep burgundy, and there’s a chandelier overhead that’s dripping with crystals.
Hannah and I end up squeezed together in the middle of one side of the table, her father directly across from us, and suddenly everyone is fighting for the seats nearby. Women, mostly.
Hannah leans close, voice low. “You’re doing amazing, but let’s keep things simple. We’re not staying long.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
Her father is already deep in conversation with an older man, reminiscing about something, while younger family members start bringing food to the table.
There’s a huge turkey, golden and perfect. Ham glazed with something that smells incredible. Mashed potatoes. Green bean casserole. Cranberry sauce. Rolls. Sweet potato casserole with marshmallows. Three different types of pie visible on a side table. And yes, what has to be Martha’s infamous meatloaf based on the conversation in the car—gray and gelatinous and somehow still steaming despite looking like it died weeks ago.
At least twenty people squeeze around the table, and I’m hyperaware of how close Hannah is, our arms bumping every time one of us moves.
I fucking love it. Love being this close to her, feeling the heat of her body, catching hints of her scent even with all the food smells competing for attention.
Martha stands at the head of the table, tapping her wineglass with a fork until everyone quiets down.
“Welcome, everyone! I’m so thrilled we could all gather for another Christmas together. It’s wonderful to see Hannah and her father join us as well.” Her smile tightens slightly. “Though we’re disappointed Lily couldn’t make it this year.”
“She’s got better places to be,” Lily mutters in my ear, and I fight to keep my expression neutral.
“Let’s take a moment to remember those who can’t be with us.” Martha’s voice softens. “Especially Hannah and Lily’s mother, Olivia, who loved these gatherings so much.”
Hannah has gone tense beside me, and I slide my hand under the table, rest it on her thigh. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans slightly into the touch.
“Now!” Martha’s voice brightens artificially. “Let’s eat and celebrate this blessed Christmas season!”
“Oh, good, the torture begins,” Lily says. “Try not to eat the meatloaf. Seriously. Three years ago, someone needed their stomach pumped.”
People start serving themselves, passing dishes in both directions, and I notice how everyone keeps glancing our way. Some of the women are staring at me with expressions I recognize—interest, speculation, the kind of look that says they’re wondering what Hannah has that they don’t.
Then a woman in her forties leans forward from three seats down, blonde hair in perfect waves, makeup flawless. “So, you two must tell us how you met! I’m dying to know.”
“That’s Sasha,” Lily says immediately. “Total bitch. She once?—”
But I’m already answering. “We met through Hannah’s sister, Lily. I helped with an event she was planning, and we hit it off.”
“What kind of event?” Sasha presses, leaning forward even more. She’s wearing a low-cut blouse, and the move is deliberate.
Hannah jumps in smoothly. “A petting zoo. Holiday-themed. Noel brought actual reindeer, which was incredible and saved the entire event.”
“You own reindeer?” asks a woman in her late twenties who is practically bouncing in her seat. “That’s so unique! Where does someone even find a man like you?” She laughs, but there’s an edge to it. “I mean, if Hannah could catch you, there must be hope for the rest of us single Omegas, right?”
“That’s Rachel,” Lily supplies. “Desperatedoesn’t even begin to cover it.”
Hannah stiffens beside me, and I can feel her bristling at the implication.
“Hannah didn’t catch me,” I say, keeping my tone light but letting some steel show through. “I pursued her. Relentlessly. She’s brilliant, creative, capable of running circles around most people I know. I’m the lucky one, because she gave me a chance.”
Rachel deflates visibly.
“And what do you do for work, Noel? You look very… physical,” Sasha asks, the whole table watching.
“I’m a bounty hunter.”
That gets attention. Multiple people lean forward, suddenly interested.
“That sounds deadly!” Martha says from the head of the table.
