“Don’t ask. Trust me, you guys will have fun hating Christmas together. It’s a win-win. Just don’t ask about IKEA.” Ryan grunted. “By the way, I’m assuming you want to ride with me and the wife in the morning?”
Nick wrinkled his nose. “And listen to you two lovebirds mush the whole way to Point Bluff? No, thanks.”
“Oh, come on.” Ryan’s ears turned scarlet. “It’s not that bad.”
Nick leveled him with a stare. “I heard you on the phone earlier at work. You literally used the word ‘mush’and‘lovebird’ before you hung up.”
Ryan released a defeated sigh. “Okay, fine. But I can dial it back for you.”
“I sincerely doubt that. It’d be like trying to dial back Tom Holland and Zendaya.”
Ryan raised a brow. “Bro, the fact you even know that scares me a little.”
Him, too. Nick winced as he leaned one shoulder against the closet frame. “Looks like I really need this vacation after all.”
“Seriously, I don’t mind driving. Plus, it’ll save you the gas money.”
He shook his head. “I like road trips.” More than that, he liked not being trapped somewhere, dependent on someoneelse for transportation. And given his secret agenda for this whole holiday homecoming, the more independence he had in Point Bluff, the better. “I’ll just meet up with you guys tomorrow at a gas station and follow you there.”
Ryan shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you’ll miss Lydia’s epicI’m Coming Home for Christmasplaylist she spent all day making.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I’ll try to manage.” One thing was for sure—nary a Christmas song would play in his truck on the drive.
Ryan bounced on the suitcase again. “You and Holly really will be two peas in one anti-holiday pod.”
Nick shut his closet door. “What’s her reason for disliking Christmas, anyway?”
Ryan shook his head. “I didn’t tell her your reasons for being Scrooge McDuck, so I can’t tell you hers.”
Nick brushed at a rogue streak of dust on his dresser. “Fair enough.” Maybe that would give him and Holly something to talk about at this block party—especially since he wouldn’t be able to talk about his plans for the ranch.
“Ha!” Ryan threw his arms up as the zipper finally slid in place. He stood and performed a victory dance around the luggage.
“Um, Ryan?” Nick turned slowly, holding up a pair of navy dress pants. “I forgot to pack my slacks.”
“No.” Ryan’s face waxed pale and his arms fell to his sides. “No way. I’ll put them in Lydia’s purse. I’m not kidding.”
“I’mkidding.” Nick tossed the pants back on his dresser. That’d been too easy. “I have a pair already packed. We’re good.”
Ryan sank to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest. “My life flashed before my eyes.”
“Let me guess.” Nick wrestled the heavy suitcase upright. “It was only six months long, because your life truly began when you got married?”
“Yeah, okay.” Ryan squinted up at him. “I see why you don’t want to ride with us.”
Nick shook his head as he wheeled his suitcase into the hallway. Hopefully he could count on Holly to commiserate with him not only about their shared dislike of the holiday but also about Ryan’s constant honeymooner status.
Though if Nick stopped to think about it long enough, he’d probably recognize that little ache in his chest as jealousy—which is why he wouldn’t stop at all.
Not until after his dream was realized.
Nine Days Before Christmas
I didn’t wince as I passed the Welcome to Point Bluff sign, so that was something. Surprised I didn’t, especially since, with the big 3-0 looming and my current single/unemployed status, Point Bluff felt like evidence I was moving backward in this season of life instead of forward.
Singing along to One Direction’snon-Christmas album, I clicked on my blinker as I made the final turn onto my parents’ farmland. Rolling hills stretched before me, reminding me of the drawings I’d etched from my second-story window as a kid. The same tired but sturdy red barn stood tall an acre from the house, the worn trail leading from the back door evident in the dead grass. The long gravel drive wound toward the covered carport.
Make that theemptygravel drive.
