Chapter 7
Eight Days Before Christmas
Me:
Do you know how hard it is to be attracted to someone you’re supposed to hate?
Piper:
I’m guessing Operation: Naughty List has hit a snag?
Remember that time I took up crochet?
I’m sure I have that “purse” you made me around here somewhere…
Relax. I’m not asking because of that. But wait—why the air quotes??
Autocorrect.
Sure. Anyway. More snags than that purse. It’s harder than I thought to be obnoxious to someone who could be John Krasinski’s stunt double.
Wait. Are we talking John as Jim Halpert, or John in that role as a Navy Seal?
Somewhere in between. That’s not the point.
I’m pretty sure that’s a point. But regardless, you could, you know…NOT be obnoxious and just enjoy time with your family.
I’m not quitting my mission after one day. I need this.
You could just tell him the truth. Give him a chance to apologize.
No way. Then I’m just stuck being awkward and pathetic the rest of the holiday.
Is there a sighing emoji?
It’ll be fine. I can ignore Nick’s John Krasinski-ness. Besides, it gets easier when I remember what he and my brother are trying to get away with.
Ah, holidays.
Tis the season for revenge.
I had to up my game. It was a new day after all. My attraction to Nick yesterday while draping him in red feathers was a fluke. Even if for a moment—a brief, super-fast, incredibly quick moment—I wondered if he felt the attraction too.
It didn’t matter. I had to focus. After he’d fled the media room, which meant I must be doing something right with Operation: Naughty List, we hadn’t had a chance to be alone again.
Mom had laid out a big sandwich spread so everyone could eat dinner whenever they were hungry, and the kids turned on an endless loop of Christmas movies while the adults alternated between slathering mayo on bread, playing rounds of Uno Attack, and periodically reminding Janie and Mason to quit eating sugar.
Nick had jumped right in, joining in my sisters’ banter and even slamming down a Hit 2 card on Olivia, much to her grudging respect. That earned me another silently mouthed husband material while I pretended to help myself to a second sandwich.
Nick wasn’t nearly miserable enough. And now it was eight days until Christmas and my birthday, but no one was counting except me.
Things had to get real.
That’s what I told myself, anyway, as I stood outside Nick’s door at six in the morning in my decade-old robe and affixed one final piece of tape to the gold tinsel crisscrossing the frame.
Much to Kat’s annoyance as my roomie, I couldn’t sleep last night for planning my next round of shenanigans.
And while many of them weren’t feasible—that is, I didn’t have access to an airplane skywriter or a swimming pool—some of them stuck.
Sort of like the hot mess of garland, cotton balls, and greenery currently sticking to the media room’s door.
I grinned and stepped back to admire my chaotic handiwork.
It looked like someone had raided an art teacher’s supply cabinet during the holidays and thrown the contents against the wall.
Now to make it back to my bed without the creaky stairs waking anyone up—
Before I could make my escape, Nick’s door swung open. A very sleepy, very disheveled Nick stood on the other side, blinking in bare feet. He wore wrinkled gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt that wasn’t rumpled at all, meaning he probably hadn’t slept in it.
Not that I noticed such details.
I froze in slippered feet, very aware of my own robed attire and the fact that I didn’t naturally make mornings look good. I swiped my tongue over my decidedly unbrushed teeth.
This was bad.
I commanded my feet to move, but they simply would not listen.
Nick shoved his unruly hair off his forehead and stared through the tangle of glittered ribbon at me, still blinking, as if he could remove the obstacle in his path if he simply generated enough eye moisture.
“Uh, good morning.” I spoke fast, so my breath wouldn’t linger in the air too long, and moved a step back. “You’re up early.”
“As are you.” He tugged at one of the ribbon vines. It easily fell to the floor. “Is this some kind of Sinclair family initiation? You have to complete the course before you’re allowed in the bathroom?”
“Um, yes. Yes, that’s exactly it.” I backpedaled a few more feet, crossing my arms over my chest despite the double layer of nightgown and robe. I desperately wanted to smooth my hair but didn’t want to risk raising my arms while braless.
He removed another string of ribbon with one tug of his finger. “Sorry to ruin your handiwork here.”
It was about that moment I realized it was going to take him only twenty seconds to take down my twenty minutes of work. I frowned. Where was a skywriter when you needed one? “How do you know it’s mine?”
“Just a hunch.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and dang it, if that didn’t make me home in on his dark, bristled jawline. “Unless Olivia is much more of a sore loser than I realized.”
“She definitely is, but you’re right. This was me.” I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. I’d almost forgotten to get into character. Blame it on my lack of caffeine. “Your room was much too Grinchy. Had to get you spruced up.” I grinned.
“I guess that makes you Cindy Lou Who, huh?” He effectively removed another layer of tinsel between us. The heater kicked on, blowing warm air into the hallway that I definitely did not need.
I backed up again, talking through nearly closed lips like a ventriloquist in training. “Nah. I could never pull off her hairstyle.”
“I’d like to see you try.” There was that half grin again. Ugh. Who looked that good first thing in the morning? Piper was about to get more texts.
I lifted my chin, trying to remember if I’d removed all my makeup last night or if it was possible I was standing in the hallway as the Ghost of Christmas Raccoon.
“Better get some coffee. We’ve got a full day ahead.
So many holiday activities to check off the list.” I channeled as much brightness into my voice as I could without risking waking my family members.
Nick plucked a cotton ball from his door and held it up. “Like snow angels and ice skating?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” I quickly ran a finger under one eye and came up with a black smear. Of course.
He leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest, blowing at a piece of tinsel that dangled in his face. “Can’t wait.”
Oh no. Was he already forming an “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” mentality? That would ruin everything. I struggled for something more hardcore and off-putting. “We might even get the Christmas tree today.” Ugh, hiking in snow. And someone was bound to start singing carols.
Nick shrugged. “I love a good jaunt through the woods.”
“Great!” I faked my best smile as I cinched the tie on my robe a little tighter. “And there’s a Christmas market downtown, which you would also love, I’m sure. ”
“What can I say?” He spread his arms wide. “Can’t beat a good holiday sale.”
Or suffocating crowds all searching for the perfect gift that didn’t exist—again, while Christmas music blared. “Fabulous!” My cheeks hurt from smiling.
“Might even buy myself a poinsettia.” Nick grinned back. “You know. To spruce up my room.”
“That would be extra festive of you.”
“Wouldn’t it?” Nick squinted at me.
I nodded slowly, holding his gaze despite the fact I was Ghost Raccoon. He was definitely up to something.
Which wasn’t fair when I was up to something.
“Maybe we could even swing by a craft store.” Nick pulled another cotton ball free. “You know, so I can redecorate after I use the bathroom.”
Great. Operation: Naughty List’s only success so far had been making the man’s bladder uncomfortable. This wasn’t my best work.
I stared at Nick, at the way his dark T-shirt stretched across his shoulders and the way he somehow made standing in front of a glittered door of cotton balls look masculine and appealing, and considered giving up.
Maybe I was out of my league. Maybe I should just admit I overheard him and Ryan, tell him off, and go about getting the holidays over with.
At least that way I wouldn’t have to go through with all this Christmas foolery.
My stomach twisted. But if I did that, word would get around.
My sisters would whisper behind their hands.
Mom and Dad would shoot me Eeyore looks for the next week and chastise Ryan like we were kids again.
I would be alone for the block party, fending off Mr. Steiner’s attempt at yet another blind date with his great-grandson who recently got out of jail, and warding off Mrs. Pepper’s sympathetic, red-lipsticked forehead kiss when I admitted I was still single.
So I was going to wake up thirty, single, and unemployed in my parents’ house on Christmas. I couldn’t do anything about that.
But I didn’t have to wake up thirty, single, unemployed, and pitied.
Operation: Naughty List was going to have to get an upgrade.
“You know, I can’t wait for the block party.” Infusing confidence in my voice by pretending I looked like a runway model instead of a homeless forest creature, I dared to sidle a step closer. “We should start planning our outfits now.”
Nick’s confident expression flickered. “That’s a thing?”
“Oh, it’s a big thing.” It wasn’t. But it was about to be. “Ugly sweater contest, and if you make it yourself, you get bonus points.”
He flinched, but managed to mostly cover it with a cough. “Sounds great.”
Now we were getting somewhere. I nodded firmly. “And if you match with your date, you get even more votes.”
“Matching…ugly Christmas sweaters…” Nick visibly swallowed. “Now that’s festive.”
“Isn’t it?” I wiggled my fingers goodbye as I turned to head back to my room. “See you in a jiff.”
I didn’t even turn as the door to Nick’s room clicked shut again, nor did I try to hide my triumphant grin.
Holly, 1.
Nick’s bladder, 0.