Grace’s brow furrowed, and she turned toward the fireplace, her expression stricken. “Holly! When did you get here?”
“I’ve been here.” Holly laughed a little, but her eyes looked dull as they hugged. “I called for you when I came in. Dad took my bags upstairs, and then Ryan and Nick pulled up.”
“I thought I heard something. But you always were my quiet church mouse.” Grace palmed the side of Holly’s cheek, then tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear—a motion Holly immediately corrected by pulling the lock back in front.
Nick covered his smile with his hand. “To answer your question, no allergies here, Mrs. Sinclair.”
Grace patted his shoulder. “Please, call me Grace. And for the record, Thomas won’t answer to Mr. Sinclair, so don’t even try.”
“That’s right.” A sudden voice boomed from around the corner and made them all jump. Thomas rounded the staircase with a grin. “Mr. Sinclair is my father.”
“He’s alsome,” Ryan pointed out. Lydia and Holly smacked each of his arms on cue.
Grace shook her head at Nick as she reached for her apron. “I bet Ryan is relieved he won’t be outnumbered this year.”
“It’s tied, dear. Three of you ladies, three of us strapping lads.” Thomas held up both arms and flexed.
Holly caught Nick’s gaze and slowly widened her eyes in apology. He grinned. This holiday was already shaping up to be way better than any he’d had at home. Everything seemed so…real.
Including the delicious vanilla aroma wafting from the kitchen.
Whatever Ryan had been warning him about was obviously a joke. He’d take this bunch over his parents’ holiday showcase any day.
Grace began knotting her apron around her waist. “Ryan, Nick will be in Kat and Chloe’s old room, if you want to show him the way. You and Lydia are in your room across the hall, and of course Holly will take her old room.”
Thomas winced as he rubbed his beard. “Hopefully that’s where I put Holly’s bag, because I’m sure not moving it again. What’d you pack in there, anyway? Bowling balls?”
“Shoes.” Holly grinned at her father, her eyes lighting once more. “And no, not bowling shoes.”
“Then I’d imagine that’s the only type you left behind.” Thomas turned to Nick, lifting his chin a little as he sized him up. “It’s nice to meet you in person, Nicholas.”
“You too, sir.” Nick automatically straightened upon the inspection, pondering for a wild moment whether he should flex too. Then the name he’d used registered. Nick opened his mouth to correct Mr. Sinclair, but just as quickly reconsidered.
Thankfully, Ryan saved him. “It’s just Nick, Dad.” He grinned at Nick. “You know. Like Saint Nick.”
Nick bit back a groan. Holly didn’t contain her snort, though, the sound of which was not only cute but delightfully anti-Christmas. He honestly couldn’t wait to talk to her about their shared lack of interest.
“Nick, it is.” Thomas shook his hand, his grip firm. “We’ll talk more, I’m sure.” The look in his eye was more that of afather sizing up his daughter’s first prom date than a man simply considering selling his house.
Oh no.
Nick sucked in a breath, trying to force a calm smile as Grace headed back to the kitchen, Lydia on her heels. Holly must have told her dad that Nick was here to be her date. But Thomas and Grace already knew that Nick was here to connect with them and talk about the property.
Did that mean they thought he was leading Holly on?
He and Ryan probably should’ve prepared for that white lie to make its way to the Sinclairs. But Nick couldn’t set that straight without looking manipulative. Maybe it was best to leave it alone for now, to not assume. After all, he was very much looking forward to being Holly’s date, so nothing was actually a lie.
But what about Ryan? Though he knew Nick was here to talk to his parents about investing, he had no idea his mom and dad were already very interested and were considering selling Nick their family home.
Another misconception Nick didn’t have permission to clearup.
“Yes, sir.” Nick swallowed, his gaze darting from Holly’s slightly guarded smile to Ryan’s impish grin and finally back to Thomas, who pumped his hand again. “I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about.”
Enough for two Christmases, at this point.
My old room looked different every time I came home. I shut the door behind me, grateful to leave the chaos of my family for a moment. The last thing I wanted to hear right now was Mom and Lydia laughing it up in the kitchen. I’m glad they got along—Lydia was a sweetheart—but with so many women in this family, it felt harder and harder to keep my place. Logic told me I should come home more often and fight for it, but I was tired of working so hard to be seen.
But this Christmas, I was determined to relax as much as possible and not stress over my circumstances. Because as Nick was already showing me, maybe they weren’tallbad.
