Chapter 5
What have I gotten myself into? Graham mused to himself from the backseat of his mother’s Honda Pilot.
Up front, Carol and Coco chattered like a couple of old girlfriends.
Part of him was glad to see the pair getting along so well.
The other part was more concerned about the myriad ways this could end up spelling disaster.
Had someone tried to tell him just twenty-four hours ago that he was about to be stuck in his childhood hometown for the holidays faking a relationship with the person who was single-handedly responsible for his premature gray hairs, he would have laughed them into next Tuesday.
And yet, here he was, doing precisely that.
Mr. Burns had some nerve, dangling this promotion before him like a carrot over a donkey’s nose. It was almost like he wanted to make an ass out of him.
Well, if that was what Mr. Burns thought of him, Graham mused, then that old blowhard had another thing coming. If he didn’t think Graham had what it took to earn this promotion, then Graham would just have to prove him wrong.
It wouldn’t be easy, Coco being the wildcard that she was. Keeping her under the radar and out of the celebrity tabloids until the premiere of her new holiday movie Christmas Day would be no small feat.
If anyone could do it, though, Graham knew he could.
After all, he hadn’t spent his entire career hustling just to let some Hollywood bimbo with a taste for tequila get in his way now—especially after all that he’d sacrificed along the way.
His mind drifted back to his date with Derek the other night—just the latest exhibit in the series of disasters that comprised his failed love life on account of his career.
Still, in the grand scheme of things, it was a small price to pay. After all, he had far more important matters to focus on now. There’d be plenty of time to worry about love later.
Right?
He shook the thought away. Eyes on the prize, Graham, he reminded himself. A few days lying low back home—how hard could it be?
Then again, perhaps it was better not to tempt fate.
He hadn’t exactly counted on Coco’s exuberant holiday spirit.
For someone like her, Mistletoe Grove was practically Disneyland.
He also hadn’t counted on her interest in his personal life—namely, his love life.
What intrigue his relationship status—or rather, his lack thereof—held for Coco, he was at a loss to explain.
But knowing her penchant for meddling, the implications were more than a little concerning.
Not only did he have zero interest in finding Mr. Right—or heck, even Mr. Right Now—here in sleepy Mistletoe Grove, but also they had appearances to keep up.
If they were going to maintain this charade of being a happy, boring, and most importantly straight couple, he couldn’t afford the risk of Coco going rogue on him.
Especially now that she was getting chummy with his mother.
God, would her heart be broken when, come the New Year, Graham would inevitably have to tell her that he and Coco had split. Still, though, it was better than the alternative. At least this way he wouldn’t have to break it to her that her only son was in fact a card-carrying homosexual.
For now, the best thing to do, he decided, was to keep his cool, keep his focus, and most important of all, keep Coco Holliday under control.
The car came to a stop as his mother turned off the ignition. “We’re he-ere.”
The group unloaded from the vehicle.
“Graham!” his mother chided as she took stock of his light, bespoke jacket. “Is that all you brought to stay warm?” She reached back into the car. “At least put these on.”
The next thing Graham knew, he found himself holding a pair of bright wool mittens, happy motifs of Santa and Mrs. Claus hand-knit into each.
He grimaced at the abominations. “That’s OK, Mom.”
Carol, however, was not about to take no for an answer. “Nonsense, Graham. This isn’t LA, you know. You need to keep warm.”
He sighed inwardly. “How very thoughtful.”
“I think they’re kinda cute,” Coco chimed in.
He put the mittens on, scowling. “Well, at least there’s coffee.” He eyed a small café a few storefronts down from their streetside parking spot. Posted above the door was a sign—hand-painted, of course—that read The Cozy Mug.
“Cocoa,” Carol said.
“Yes?” Coco asked.
Carol shook her head with a chuckle. “Sorry,” she responded. “Cocoa as in cocoa shop.”
Graham furrowed his brow as if his mother had just spoken Greek. “Cocoa shop? Well, if that isn’t the…who ever heard of a cocoa shop?”
“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it,” Carol replied. “The Cozy Mug is heavenly.”
Graham just rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll pass.” He shook his head to himself. “Only in Mistletoe Grove.”
The group turned to head for the square.
That is, until the appearance of a galloping force of nature around the corner.
Freezing in place, Graham braced himself for the impact of a hundred and fifty pounds of St. Bernard zeal currently bolting toward him at top speed.
“Gah!” he exclaimed as the dog sent him ass over teakettle onto the sidewalk.
The next thing he knew, he found himself showered—quite literally—with wet, slobbery kisses.
“Someone get this beast off of me!”
A frantic, middle-aged man appeared darting around the corner. “Oscar!” He pulled the canine off Graham. “I’m so sorry, Carol.”
Graham felt himself bristle. Sorry…Carol? He raised himself to his feet.
“Oh, no need to apologize,” Carol responded without missing a beat.
Speak for yourself, Graham wanted to add. He stifled a groan as he watched his mother kneel to the dog and rub its cheeks lovingly.
“We should have known not to be standing right in your way, isn’t that right?” She planted a kiss on the giant oaf’s forehead.
Oh, brother.
The man took hold of the dog’s leash off the sidewalk. “Thanks, Carol. You know how Oscar gets when he sees a squirrel.”
The two shared a laugh, although Graham failed to see the humor in the situation.
“I’m so glad we ran into you,” Carol said to the newcomer. “I’ve got some folks I’d love for you to meet.” She gestured to Graham and Coco. “This is my son, Graham, and this is his lovely girlfriend, Coco.” She turned to the pair. “Kids, this is Mayor Pickering.”
The extra enthusiasm with which she spoke the Mayor’s name was not lost on the two out-of-towners.
“Pleased to meet you,” the Mayor greeted. He then put a finger to his nose. “You know what, I think I remember you, son.”
Great, Graham thought to himself. Just what he needed—getting chummy with the local yokels.
The Mayor snapped his fingers. “By Jiminy, I do remember you. You’re that little tyke who was always beading those eyeglass chains Mrs. Dunwoody down at the library loved so much.”
Coco stifled a chuckle. “Custom-beaded eyeglass chains for the local librarian?”
Graham, however, paid the comment no mind. “You know, it’s been so long, Mayor. I really can’t recall—”
“And you, my dear.” The Mayor took Coco’s hands gently. “I must say you look a might familiar, as well.” He squinted as if to focus. “I don’t suppose I’d know you from somewhere?”
Coco blushed demurely. “Well, as a matter of fact—”
“She gets that a lot,” Graham cut off, the edge in his voice sharpening. “I guess you just have one of those faces. Don’t you, darling?” He gave her cheek a pinch.
She rubbed the spot sorely. “Apparently.”
The Mayor simply turned back to Carol. “Carol, I’ve been meaning to ask. I trust you’ll be regaling us with your annual Christmas Eve party again this year, yes? You know how much I look forward to it.”
“Have your holiday sweater ready, Mayor,” Carol replied with a smile.
The Mayor practically glowed. “I’ll be counting down the minutes!” He flashed Carol a smile. “All right, Oscar. Now for the love of Pete, can we try just once letting the squirrels live in peace?” The pair perambulated off down the sidewalk.
A wry grin curled on Coco’s face then. “Seems to me that the Mayor’s rather fond of you, Carol.”
Graham shot her a warning glare.
The suggestion turned Carol’s cheeks crimson. “Mayor Pickering? Oh, he’s like that with everyone.” She brushed the subject away. “Come on, let me show you the square. The decorations they’re putting up are a scream.”
Almost as if on cue, there came a frantic yelp through the air.
All eyes in the group shot to the source of the sound. A collective gasp swept through them as they registered the sight up ahead.
High above the town square, teetering atop a ladder propped precariously against a giant evergreen tree, was a young man—putting up Christmas lights, by the looks of it—clinging to the topmost branch as if his very life depended on it.
Which, judging by the thud that sounded the next moment as his seesawing ladder fell out from under him and crashed to the ground—leaving him dangling helplessly from the tree’s highest boughs—it very well might have.
“Graham, go help him before he falls!”
But it was too late. No sooner had the words left Carol’s mouth than the man appeared to lose his grip on the tree.
Coco released a scream.
The whole group prepared to witness a disaster.