Chapter 21 #2
“Here.” Nash handed me a small pocketknife—did all guys have a secret stash of knives on them at all times?—and winked. “Knives weren’t prohibited after all.”
Ryder huffed. “Whose side are you on?”
I grinned cheekily. “Mine, nephew dearest.” Leaning in, I kissed Nash’s cheek, much to my nephew’s dismay.
But Nash? He stilled under my touch, his steady gaze enchanting me.
This was pretend. We were pretending. Playing a part.
Selling a story. But the warmth in his espresso eyes, the quirk of lips holding back a smile had me feeling like this was too real.
Like this was our future. Bantering with my nephews.
Surviving family holidays. I’m not running, Steph.
The words were a soft caress to my mangled heart. And oh, how I wanted to believe them.
I shook my head to clear the foggy thoughts, using the blade to carefully slice through the top of the box. I handed the knife back to Nash—safety first—and opened the present.
To find packing peanuts. Mint and bubble-gum pink.
Scooping out the mounds of fluffy Styrofoam, I dug down until my fingers brushed a smooth object. “Do you mind holding the box?” I asked Nash.
“Sure.” He pivoted and adjusted the box farther onto his lap, tilting it so I could grasp the new item.
And what did I pull out? Another box. This one wrapped in a black garbage bag and secured with endless duct tape.
It was official. I’d received the gag gift of the game.
They weren’t common anymore, after several siblings who shall not be named overdid them in a battle to outdo each other.
Competitive even about gag gifts. But Ryder had heard the stories of each brand of crazy and had witnessed at least one or two in the past. Now, on the cusp of his initiation into the game, he was bringing things to a whole new level.
Everyone was laughing at my ill-fortune by this point. Hiram even slapped Ryder on the back in approval as he walked past, bringing a plate of goodies with him from the kitchen. While none of them wanted to be in my shoes right now, they were all getting a kick out of it in the meantime.
Zara reached for a lemon tart from Hiram’s plate as he settled back beside her, but he tilted the dish away. “Probably enough carbs for tonight, my dear,” he said.
I picked at the duct tape, listening. They weren’t talking loudly compared to the high energy of the room, but I still caught the pointedness of his words framed as a suggestion.
“Oh. Right.” Zara’s face shattered a little, but she recovered quickly and nibbled a baby carrot.
Nash offered me the knife again. “You’ll be needing this.”
And he was right. Because after the duct tape came another atrociously taped box.
“So that’s where all the tape went,” Ivy commented wryly, eyeing her eldest over the rim of her glasses.
“And the hours you spent holed up in your room, hmm?” Gabe mused, tossing another log on the fire, his amber eyes twinkling with amusement.
Ryder only grinned with secret knowledge.
Thankfully, that box was empty with an envelope inside. Breathing a sigh of relief, I opened the envelope and read the computer-typed note aloud:
FINISH THE CAROL. FIND THE CLUE.
“There's a song in the air!
There's a star in the sky!
There's a mother's deep prayer and a baby's low cry!
And the star rains—"
I smirked at Ryder. “Was this tailor-made for me, buddy?” He’d chosen my favourite Christmas hymn, and I finished it easily.
“its fire while the beautiful sing,
for the manger of Bethlehem cradles a King!”
Going to the mantle, I picked up the baby Jesus from the nativity set Nana brought with her from Colorado every time she trekked up here and turned it upside down. Sure enough, a small piece of paper was taped to the manger. It unrolled to read:
TO EARN YOUR NEXT CLUE, SIT ON THE KNEE OF THE PERSON NEXT TO YOU AND SING A VERSE OF JOY TO THE WORLD.
The person next to you… Glancing at the sofa, I noticed that Jackson had conveniently vacated the premise, leaving Nash the only other person on the loveseat. Oh, sugarplums. I could feel my cheeks melting off my face with embarrassment.
Great-Aunt Edith wolf-whistled, wagging her spidery eyebrows. “Back in my day, that was as good as a marriage proposal.”
Could my face be any more red? Slowly, I approached Nash. He didn’t move as I perched on his knee, face flaming, and glared at Ryder—who only had the audacity to look smug. This was fine. This was okay. This was… Abort. Abort. I was going to kill my nephew—with kindness and wet willies.
Taking a deep breath, I sang the required verse as quickly as possible. Nash didn’t say anything. Just smiled at me and gently squeezed my knee before I popped back up again.
“Happy?” I demanded of my scheming nephew, even though there was no way he could have known I was bringing Nash.
Although… he knew about the clue and could have had Jackson convince me to pick his gift because Nash was sitting next to me.
I would dissect Ryder’s potential espionage plans later. I had a gift to win.
Ryder handed me another envelope. This one thankfully only required me to name all of Santa’s reindeer correctly before I was instructed to find a small gold box under the living room Christmas tree.
Nestled in the branches of the fake tree (we weren’t a real tree family) was a fist-sized package in the same gold foil as Ryder’s original Trojan horse.
“Is this the end?” I begged, half desperately. A girl could only take so much mortification.
Ryder laughed. “That’s the gift, don’t worry.”
Thankfully, this wasn’t outrageously wrapped in tape and instead opened to a wad of tissue paper. Lifting it up, I gasped. Because underneath were the two most gorgeous glass cut snowflake ornaments I’d ever seen. I held one up gently, letting it sparkle as it caught the light.
“Ryder…” I breathed. “These are beautiful.”
He beamed with pride, sitting taller.
The air in the room sharpened. Tangy and electric.
I winced. Uh-oh. I shouldn’t have mentioned loving these.
My siblings smirked with far too much cunning.
Great, just because I liked something meant they’d pounce on the opportunity to take it from me.
Ducking my head, I tucked the box near my feet.
Hailey announced the next number, but I didn’t catch it as I was too focused on the ornaments. My nephew had superb taste, and he knew me well enough to choose that package for me. That lodged a lump in my throat.
Two turns later, Zoe stole my ornaments. She offered me a sardonic smile. “These will go perfectly in my collection.” Sure, Zoe.
Nash’s turn was next, and he stole them from Zoe. I beamed at him, leaning close. “You’re my hero right now,” I whispered. “But they’ve already decided I won’t get them.”
He smiled down at me. Eyes tracing my face, assessing. And dare I say, appreciating?
I bit my lip, feeling this was new territory for us, but not hating it. “Anything you want me to steal for you?”
“You’ve already stolen from me,” Nash whispered, glancing towards the group as Hailey called another number—Ivy’s apparently as she opted to open a fresh gift.
“What’s that?” I asked, puzzled.
“My heart,” he murmured, and I swear I misheard him in the clamour of the group. But from the steadiness of his voice and the truth in his eyes, I couldn’t find a lie.
I didn’t win the ornaments. Since Zoe started the game, she got the final turn, and she snatched them from Ryder, who’d made a valiant attempt to snag them for me.
I couldn’t blame her—they were gorgeous—but she didn’t have to be so callous about it.
And maybe, just maybe, she’d trade with me.
Because, yes, after the game ended, we traded gifts if we so desired.
I had a power drill up for grabs, but I didn’t see that convincing my older sister.
I could have handed her cash, and I doubt it would have made a difference.
And it didn’t matter what Nash had, she wouldn’t trade with him on principle.
Sure enough, Zoe laughed in my face when I ventured to ask. “Dream on, little sis.” What could have been an endearing name was chalked full of vitriol derision. She had a way of making me feel two-inches tall.
However, Elijah’s long-term girlfriend wanted the drill, so I ended up with a heavy-duty flashlight and a coffee shop gift card. Couldn’t complain. Nash traded with my niece Millie—Veronica’s daughter—giving her the stationery set in exchange for a Nerf gun.
When I asked how he outmaneuvered Ryder in that deal, Nash only shrugged. “He wanted the throwing knives.” Of course he did. “And I’ve got some adopted nephews and nieces at home who will love Uncle Nash for bringing this around. And their parents will hate me for it. So, I’m calling it a win.”