Nick blinked rapidly. His fellow Christmas-hater looked like the holidays had thrown up on her. And she didn’t seem to mind.
What was going on?
“There you are, Nick!” Holly grinned and wiggled her fingers in a wave.
Oh no.
She gestured for him to come inside. “It’s time to decorate cookies. Mom’s got atonof red and green icing.”
At that, every head swiveled toward Nick. Every eye bored a hole in his profile.
So much for laying low. He swallowed again, but his mouth went dry. “Um…”
“Oh, hey, guys. When did you get here?” Holly shifted her gaze to her sisters. “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry—What?” Olivia frowned. Kat tilted her head.
“Come on, Nick! I’ll save you a piping bag.” Without waiting for his reply, Holly turned and flounced inside, her skirt swinging. The screen door shut behind her with a decisive snap, blessedly cutting off the remnants of “Santa Baby.”
Silence filled the yard.
A concerned crease formed on Ryan’s brow. He grabbed Lydia’s hand and pressed it against his forehead. “Am I getting a fever?”
Nick halfway wanted someone to check his head too. This felt like a fever dream, for sure.
“Well…” Thomas slowly planted his hands on his hips. “Looks like someone’s finally getting into the spirit of Christmas.”
“Or the eggnog,” Olivia muttered.
Ryan snorted. Lydia swatted him.
“Come on, everyone, you heard your sister.” Grace’s smile was even brighter than before as she headed for the porch steps. “Time for cookies!” Mason and Janie filed after her into the house, lugging their bags. Kat, Thomas, Lydia, and Olivia followed close behind.
Ryan hung back with Nick and grinned. “Seems like the Grinch’s heart grew a few sizes this afternoon.”
Nick winced. The song had changed to “White Christmas,” and it seemed to seep out the cracks of the house. He particularly hated that song—it was the one his mom always chose to set the mood before clients arrived on Christmas Eve. “What happened?”
Ryan shrugged. “Maybe she’s just really excited about the cookies?”
Nick raised his eyebrows. “Does she often bake while dressed like an elf?”
“Can’t be certain, but I’m guessing no.” Ryan clapped him on the shoulder, his grin widening. “Looks like this Christmas might be a little different than we expected.”
“You can say that again.” The wind stirred. Nick crossed his arms over his chest, half expecting to see a tumbleweed blow by as ominous Western music played in the background.
But the ominous music was currently being provided by Bing Crosby, and there were no tumbleweeds.
Just a growing sense of dread rolling across his chest.
Me:
Operation: Naughty List has officially commenced.
Piper:
Dare I ask?
Remember that holiday date I told you my brother made for me?
