Chapter 5
My old room looked different every time I came home.
I shut the door behind me, grateful to leave the chaos of my family for a moment.
The last thing I wanted to hear right now was Mom and Lydia laughing it up in the kitchen.
I’m glad they got along—Lydia was a sweetheart—but with so many women in this family, it felt harder and harder to keep my place.
Logic told me I should come home more often and fight for it, but I was tired of working so hard to be seen.
But this Christmas, I was determined to relax as much as possible and not stress over my circumstances. Because as Nick was already showing me, maybe they weren’t all bad.
I moved toward my bulging duffel that sat in the middle of the bed, the duvet now a light gray instead of the neon floral print I’d grown up with. I’d shared this room with Olivia for several years, until she moved to college. Then it became solely mine, much to Kat and Chloe’s dismay.
The stick-on, glow-in-the-dark stars had long been removed from the ceiling, and while most of the oak furniture remained, the walls now boasted a light cream instead of lavender. Mom had never let me paint them black during my angsty stage—a good move on her part.
I unzipped my bag and braced for an explosion of underwear. But the crammed contents only seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. I dumped my socks into the top dresser drawer, then paused to run my finger over the initials I’d cut into the wood when I was eleven years old:
HS + ZE
I chuckled. Zac Efron never knew the depth of my preteen crush, and neither did Chad Michael Murray, whose initials were carved somewhere on a tree at the back of our property.
Dad had caught me out there with his pocketknife and gently explained that Chad was too old for me.
That I didn’t need to worry, that one day I’d meet the right guy and everything would line up the way it should.
Then he traded me the knife for a cookie.
When I allowed them to surface, there were a lot of good memories on this farm.
I unpacked the rest of my clothes, folding sweaters and tucking my bras around my socks.
Dad had been acting weird, too—sort of stilted—ever since I told him about Nick being my date.
Was he still in protective mode? Not that I planned on carving HS+NK into a piece of furniture anytime soon, but I had to admit, this Christmas was looking way up.
Voices sounded from outside. I moved to the window, peering out as Ryan and Nick headed toward the barn. He was probably giving Nick the grand tour while Lydia regaled Mom with stories of her adorable fourth graders.
I lifted the window all the way up and breathed in the fresh air streaming through the screen, appreciating the view below me.
And I didn’t mean the winter landscape.
Nick hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans as he ambled slowly, head down, across the sun-streaked backyard. He was a good inch or two taller than my brother, and he’d shed his jacket. His hunter-green Henley pulled nicely across his broad back.
Good heavens, but that man could melt snowdrifts.
I leaned over, resting my elbows on the ledge as I watched.
Why didn’t I remember him looking that good last year?
Of course, I’d been in Ryan’s office, and in a hurry to get to lunch.
Maybe Nick’s physique simply didn’t demand the same measure of attention in work clothes.
Somehow, I doubted that was true.
Ryan’s voice carried loud and clear to my window, despite the low tone. “Remember, man, not a word. Holly can not find out that you aren’t really here to be her date.”
I froze.
Nick’s response was muffled. I leaned closer, pressing my cheek and ear against the screen, to no avail. What did they mean?
Ryan stopped, turning to face Nick. “I know, but if she finds out you’re just doing me a favor, she’ll kill me. It won’t be a white Christmas—it’ll be my last Christmas.”
Ice pricked my veins in warning. Nick was doing Ryan a favor?
Wait.
Was I the favor?
Every rom-com I’d ever watched as a teenager about fake dates and losing bets flitted through my brain. I’d always laughed at them, found them cringy and ridiculous.
But this wasn’t television. And it wasn’t funny. My heart stuttered.
Pieces of Nick’s response drifted to my room: “…won’t tell her anything. Besides, I don’t mind…”
Don’t mind. I pressed my fingers between my eyes. That was a far cry from the “he’s totally into it” language Ryan had used.
I backed away, shutting the window with a soft thump. What an idiot. I should have known better. Ryan had caught me last-minute and distracted while shopping—probably on purpose—otherwise I’d surely have realized that Nick’s sudden interest in me, an entire year later, seemed a little out of reach.
I mean, look at the guy. He obviously wasn’t struggling to get a date.
Me, however?
I turned away from the window as my stomach rolled. Apparently, it was just as obvious that I needed help getting one.
But that wasn’t even the worst part.
“ Et tu, Ryan?” I whispered as my heart slid into my knock-off UGGs.
Growing up, we’d always been a team, ganging up to prank Kat and Chloe, and dodging Olivia’s tattletale nature to get away with stuff.
Now that Ryan was married, in his eyes I was apparently just someone single to be pitied. How dare he?
And Nick! He didn’t even know me, and he was willing to go along with something this pathetic simply because Ryan asked? That told me all I needed to know about Nick’s character—fitted Henley or not. Pretty rare that a guy could look like part of a Chevy truck commercial and be kind and sensitive.
I straightened my spine and my sweater, prepared to march outside and tell Ryan and his immature friend— hot friend, yes, but immature nonetheless—that the jig was up.
That I didn’t need a pity date, or any date for Christmas or any other holiday.
Maybe the shock and horror on their faces at being busted would offset the deep ache making its home in my gut.
And people wondered why I hated the holidays.
Indignation flared, overriding the hurt. Perfect. Now properly fueled by anger, I grabbed the knob and wrested the door open.
Or…
I paused, letting my hand fall back to my side. An idea formed, slowly rolling and gathering volume like a snowball down a hill.
The snowball reached boulder size, and I grinned.
Why get mad when I could get even?
Nick prided himself on being logical. One could be cautiously optimistic while still being fully grounded in reality. But every now and then, something caused Hope to jump center stage and nab the spotlight from Realistic.
Something like the perfect property dropping into his lap.
The sun warmed the back of his neck. Birds flitted from branch to branch overhead.
Nick breathed in the serene winter air and released it with a white puff.
Ryan was still talking about Holly, and it was all Nick could do to focus on his friend’s nervous chatter and not the beauty of the acreage around them.
The spread was already fenced for horses. The barn, while clearly old and tired, had great bones and wouldn’t need more than a paint job to get it back in pristine condition. He could build the ropes course over in that grove of trees and eventually pour a slab for basketball right there by the—
“…just don’t want her to get hurt.” Ryan cracked his knuckles on one hand, then the other.
He was really stressing, wasn’t he? “Look, I know you’re worried about Holly finding out, but this whole date thing really isn’t a big deal.
I don’t mind. In fact, I think we’re going to have a lot in common.
” Nick shrugged. “There are worse ways to spend Christmas than with your sister, trust me.” Like with his own family in a museum masquerading as a home.
“Good. Because things seem a little weird around here as it is.” Ryan looked over his shoulder toward the farmhouse and frowned.
“How so?”
“For starters, there are no decorations out, which is a huge red flag. No giant Frosty inflatable in the yard. No wreaths on the fence. And Mom seems a little out of it.”
Nick could definitely do without the giant snowman. “I think your parents are great.” In fact, if he’d grown up on this farm, maybe he wouldn’t have an aversion to the holidays. And if things worked out, Nick could give a similar experience to teenagers needing a second chance.
Maybe in doing so he’d find his own second chance.
“My folks love hosting people. The more the merrier, and all that.” Ryan adjusted his glasses. “I think it’s really bothering them that my other siblings aren’t coming home this year.”
“They definitely made me feel welcome.” Nick crossed his arms over his chest. “Although your dad keeps looking at me like I might propose to Holly at any moment.”
Ryan laughed. “That’s just Dad. He’s cool, don’t worry. Holly probably already told him why you’re here, so he’s maybe got that in his head. But he won’t care that you and Holly are each other’s date for the party.”
“I hope not.” Nick didn’t want to lead anyone on, especially the Sinclairs. He needed Thomas’s approval, but not to be worthy of his daughter.
Just his farm.
Nick scuffed one heel against the grass, thinking. “Maybe if it comes up, I can explain Holly and I are just connecting over being sensitive to the holidays. So he doesn’t get the wrong idea that we’re a couple or anything.”
“Bah-humbug buddies. That could work.” Ryan shrugged. “So long as Holly Bells doesn’t get wind of it, I don’t care what you tell my parents.”
“Holly Bells?” He smirked.
Ryan groaned. “Forget I said that. She especially hates nicknames, but sometimes they slip out. Holly Berry. Holly Jolly.” He grinned. “Old habits die hard.”