Taking my hand, he nods slowly.
“Holly, is it? I’m Miller. Miller Ryan.” I can see the questions floating through his mind, but to my relief, he doesn’t ask them aloud.
“Nice to meet you!”
“Am I really that unmemorable?”
My heart plummets.
With his question, Lincoln’s head snaps in his direction.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” There’s an edge in Lincoln’s tone as he looks between me and his cousin.
“Last night, Holly here,” he juts his thumb in my direction, “wandered down to the tree farm, and had her very own boxing match with my inventory.” He turns to face me again. “How’s that ankle?” I’m surprised to see concern swimming in his gorgeous brown eyes.
Through gritted-teeth, I steal a glance at Lincoln, then turn back to Miller. “Much better. Thank you again for the ice.”
“So that’s where you ended up last night?” Lincoln questions, his lips turning down in a frown. Crossing his arms over his chest, he eyes Miller, shaking his head.
I wish I could read his thoughts.
“Oh, at least she was in good hands!” Tina chimes in. Whether she notices the tension in the room, she doesn’t say, but her timing feels intentional. Like she’s providing back up, saving me from the shade these two are throwing at each other.
Knowing I need to fix this, I turn my focus to Lincoln.
But not before realizing Miller’s still holding my hand in his.
Dropping it, I step away. “Yes,” I explain. “I saw a tree farm on my way here yesterday, and when I started to walk, my subconscious took me back there. And because I am, well, me, I ended up tripping over an extension cord. That’s how I hurt my ankle.”
“Understatement of the century,” Miller mutters under his breath, and Lincoln’s gaze snaps back to him.
“Elaborate,” Lincoln says flatly.
“What Holly's left out of her story is when she tripped, she took five and a half trees down with her.”
“I did not take five and a half trees down with me. How do you take downhalfa tree?” Crossing my arms defiantly, I glare at him, which only makes him grin wider.
“I caught it, remember?”
I let out an annoyed huff, then toss my hands into the air. “All right, there you have it, Stokes family. Holly North is a giant klutz.” I laugh, but it comes out a little manically.
Because if you can’t laugh at yourself, then how can you handle when other people laugh at you?
Suddenly, I’m fighting back tears. Looking up at the ceiling, I blink several times, desperate to not let them fall.
“Holly, can I get you a cup of coffee?” Tim holds up his own cup and gives it a little shake. “I’m about to refill mine.”
“That would be amazing, thank you.”
“How do you take it?”
“A little coffee and a lot of creamer, please.”
He chuckles, then heads to the kitchen.
“So, Holly, I’m not sure if Lincoln has filled you in, but one family tradition we have is to open presents on Christmas morning, then we have a light breakfast. This year I made homemade cinnamon rolls. How does that sound?” Tina loops her arm through mine and guides me over to the couch where a stack of presents sits neatly wrapped in brown gift paper with sparkly red and green bows.
My eyes widen at the sight. “This isn’t for me, is it?”
