The Holiday Games

Chapter 17

seventeen

. . .

Caroline

I want to strangle this woman.

Literally.

As I charge across the catering tent, I have vivid fantasies involving the purple sash on her black spiderweb dress wrapped around her pale white throat.

How dare she stalk me on the dark web! What on earth does she plan to do with the information she found? Is she going to open a credit card in my name? Take out a loan? Leak news of my weird ingrown hair that had to be surgically removed to the press?

The hair thing would actually bother me. A lot. Having an ingrown hair of that size and stubbornness is embarrassing! And at the time, I’d thought I had cancer or a tumor. It was upsetting.

Upsetting and private .

That’s the part that has steam coming out of my ears. This woman, this stranger , violated my privacy without a second thought, all because she wants to win a dumb reality show.

Well, I’ll show her. I’ll show her exactly how far you get on a hospitality-themed show with that kind of behavior.

Skidding to a stop beside her table, I coo to the transportation director she’s been flirting with all day, “Excuse me, Kyle, I need a moment with Jenna. In private.”

“This should be good,” Jenna says, turning my way with grin just like the Grinch’s after he stole the roast beast. “Shoot, Goody Two-Shoes. But FYI, there’s no ‘private’ in reality show television. Whatever you have to say, you’re going to have to say it, loud and proud, for all the world to hear.” Her lips push into a patronizing pout. “Does that scare you? If so, you can run away with your tail between your legs.” Her grin returns with a wicked vengeance. “Isn’t that what your doctor thought your ingrown hair was at first? The remnants of a vestigial tail or something?”

Matching her slimy smile with a wider, brighter one of my own, I say, “I just wanted you to know that I’ll be freezing my credit as soon as I get to my laptop. To protect myself against identity theft.”

“As if I’d want your identity.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re safe, Goody, don’t worry. I have a life; I don’t need to steal a pathetic one like yours. I can’t believe you’ve never even been pulled over for speeding. Who’s that squeaky clean at thirty-four?”

“Well, that isn’t exactly right, Jenna,” I say, positioning the pitcher over her nearly empty glass. “I’ve never been ticketed, no, but I’ve been pulled over loads of times.” I begin to pour the water in a thin, threatening stream, my eyes locked on hers. “I love to speed, actually. It’s one of my favorite things and practically a necessity when you live thirty minutes from the closest grocery store. Or pharmacy. Or gas station. I have to drive thirty minutes to get gas, Jenna. Do you know what that makes me?”

Her lips part, but I push on before she can speak, still pouring, “Prepared. It makes me the kind of person who is always prepared. Prepared for an emergency, prepared to talk my way out of a ticket with the skill of a used car salesman, and prepared to handle any hospitality issue my job or this competition can throw at me without breaking a sweat.” My eyes bore into hers as the glass nears the overflow point. “I’m going to bury you, and I’m going to do it with a smile on my face and holiday spirit in my heart.”

I tip the pitcher upright with a split second to spare, leaving the glass perfectly topped off. “But if you stick your nose into my private business again, I’ll also be hiring a lawyer to sue you in every violent, invasive way a person can be sued. Because that’s my kink, Spooky, making sure bad actors get what they deserve. Justice is sexy, don’t you think? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go rest up for my spa appointment tomorrow. While you’re slogging through a losers’ challenge, I’ll be getting a massage. I hope you have the day you deserve.”

Without another word, I turn and glide back across the tent, weaving my way through the tables with my head held high. Behind me, I hear Jenna mutter something beneath her breath, but she seems to have lost the gumption to give me grief me at full volume.

Good.

I hope she takes our little tête-à-tête to heart because I meant every word, especially the suing part. Kayla’s father is a shark of a lawyer who doesn’t hesitate to unleash his litigious zeal on anyone who dares to mess with his daughter or her friends. One phone call, and Dave will have a terrifying cease and desist letter headed Jenna’s way.

The thought sends guilt winding through my chest. I haven’t checked in with Kayla since the night of the first challenge. Yes, I’ve been busy, but I’ve had ample time to respond to her texts asking how things are going.

The truth is that I’ve been avoiding her.

I’ve been avoiding my bestie because I can’t lie to her. And if I can’t lie to her, then I can’t keep lying to myself.

“Ugh,” I mutter, slugging back the last sip of my now cold tea before gathering my coat and purse from the table I was sharing with Eduardo.

“What happened?” he hisses, casting anxious glances Jenna’s way. “What did you say? Why isn’t she fighting back?”

“We came to an understanding,” I say, shrugging on my coat.

“Yes, but how?” he insists. “Girl, you have to tell me everything. Don’t make me wait to watch it on TV. I will literally explode with frustration. I can’t wait that long for gossip. It gives me ulcers.”

“Me, too,” Millie says, appearing beside us. She lowers her voice to a whisper as she adds, “Well, no, that isn’t really true. I’m usually not into gossip, but Jenna actually looks scared. Of you.” A delighted smile splits her face. “It’s awesome! Teach me your ways, wise one. I want to be nice, but scary, too.”

I exhale a soft laugh. “I’ll spill it all later, I promise, but I need to run right now. I have to check in with work.”

Eduardo groans. “God, don’t remind me. I have to tackle email today. It can’t wait any longer. Pedro is a fabulous assistant manager, but he simply refuses to answer email or order supplies. I swear, that man thinks the toilet paper magically appears in the rooms.”

“Good luck,” I say sympathetically, waving to Millie as I head Ainsley’s way. “Just wanted to let you know that I’m heading out.”

“Sounds good,” Ainsley says. “You did a great job today!”

“Thank you.” I smile, but some of the joy of victory has faded.

It’s hard to be proud of your performance in one arena when you know you’re failing miserable in another.

“You’re welcome.” Her gaze grows more pointed. “Are you sure I can’t send a cameraman with you this afternoon? He’ll keep a respectful distance. He won’t be able to film while you’re in the museum with your friend due to permitting issues, but it would be nice to get shots of you walking through the park, having dinner, that sort of thing.”

I wrinkle my nose as I inch past her. “I’m sorry, I really can’t. I promised my friend that we’d have time alone. She’s camera shy. But I’m all yours tomorrow, I promise. You can film me getting rubbed and scrubbed and pedicured to your heart’s content.”

Ainsley grins. “You know we will. I’m so jealous. That spa is supposed to be divine.”

“I’ll let you know,” I say, waving as I hurry out of the tent onto the sunny sidewalk outside. I glance around as I leave, looking for a sign of Leo, but he seems to have disappeared.

I shouldn’t be worried—that was the plan: for him to head out early and meet me uptown at two—but for some reason my stomach is in knots.

Maybe I’m worried about what he’ll think of my confrontation with Jenna, once he sees the footage?

Maybe I’m second-guessing the wisdom of playing hooky with my producer and lying to the rest of the cast about it?

Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m acting like a crazy person and haven’t so much as texted my best friend about it.

I take the subway uptown, but instead of walking toward the Metropolitan Museum of Art right away, I wander the quiet streets of the Upper East Side, collecting my thoughts before placing the call I’ve been avoiding.

Kayla answers on the first ring, hissing, “Tell me everything. Absolutely everything. Right now. I’m dying for an update. Dying! I couldn’t even enjoy decorating the gingerbread houses for the lobby this morning. Even the smell of icing couldn’t take my mind off the fact that my best friend is in New York, on the verge of becoming a reality television star, and she hasn’t texted me in two days. Two days, woman!”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling awful. “I’m the worst best friend ever.”

“No, you aren’t! I was just teasing.” She laughs. “I get it. I’m sure you’re crazy busy.”

“No, I’m just crazy,” I say, pulling in a breath and confessing everything.

I mean…everything.

I tell her about making out with Leo in the exhibition hall to make Chris jealous and discovering that panty-melting kisses are a real thing, after all. I tell her about our Pretty Woman-style shopping trip and our day on Governors Island and all the intimate things he’s shared with me and the intimate things I’ve shared with him. I tell her about the forehead kiss and the way just meeting his gaze across a crowded room makes me feel like I’m home and the fact that I already care more about this relative stranger than the man I dated for two years.

“Wow,” Kayla says when I stop to catch my breath.

“I know. I’m crazy. Love at first sight isn’t real! I must be having some sort of breakdown or something.”

“It’s not love at first sight,” she says. “It’s just…really fast love. Really fast love happens! Remember the Sackmans? They met in our lobby, fell in love during the Christmas cookie decorating class, and were married by the following summer. Five years later, they still book a room every December Twenty-Third to celebrate their fast love anniversary. Which reminds me, I need to find a special treat for their room. What’s the fifth anniversary? Fruit?”

“Wood. You should get them one of those hand-carved wooden bud vases from the country store,” I say, tugging open my coat as I continue to pace the sleepy streets. It’s nearly fifty degrees, another unusually warm December day I know Leo and I will enjoy to the fullest…if I can’t get Kayla to talk some sense into me. Fast.

“Yes, brilliant,” she says. “You’re always so good with gifts.”

“And bad with men,” I say. “Remind me that I have a horrible track record with men and that this one likely isn’t any different. Help me come to my senses before I’m so gone on this guy, I set off a bomb in the middle of my happy family.”

“What?” Kayla finally sounds worried. “Why would he set off a bomb in the middle of your family? Does he kick puppies or something? I mean, we already know he’s a cat dad, so he can’t be all bad.”

“About the cat,” I say, bracing myself for the really sticky part of this confession. “There’s something I didn’t tell you. About how Leo came to have the cat… He may have dated my cousin Vivian. For years.”

“Wh-what?” she stammers.

“Yes,” I continue, “and the cat was her cat, the one she said died and she buried in Central Park before leaving the city and her allegedly evil boyfriend behind.”

“What!” Kayla’s screech is loud enough to make me wince and pull my cell a few inches from my ear. “Oh my God. How did she explain the fact that he’s alive?”

“I don’t know.” I drag a hand through my hair. “I haven’t talked to her about any of this yet, but the cat is definitely Greg. There’s no doubt. I recognize the birthmark on his paw. If she lied about that, it follows she probably lied about other things, too. And Leo doesn’t seem evil. Not even a little bit. Maybe I’m being na?ve, but I trust him.”

“Well, you have good instincts, C.C.,” she says. “But wow… You’re right. This could blow up in your face. Dating your cousin’s ex would be uncomfortable enough without all the drama and lies and zombie cats rising from the dead.”

“He’s not a zombie. He’s adorable. I can send you pictures tonight. Leo and I are going to have dinner at his place after he gives me his local’s tour of the city. He wants me to have more time with Greg before I commit to taking him to Vermont. Oh, and that reminds me, could you send me some pictures of my crochet elves? Leo wanted to see them.”

“Yes, absolutely, but…” Kayla hums beneath her breath. “Do you think being alone with the panty melter at his place is a good idea? Your panties might melt off, and sleeping with him will only make things more complicated.”

“We’re not going to sleep together,” I say, ignoring the flutter the thought sends through my entire being.

“Right,” Kayla says. “And I’m not going to eat every piece of caramel crunch fudge I stole from the holiday assortment in the breakroom before Francine could get her grubby fingers on it.”

“You’re so bad at sharing.”

“Only when it comes to caramel crunch fudge,” she says. “And peppermint cookies and fresh popcorn and perfectly ripe avocados. Especially avocados. They’re only just right for a short window of time. A girl has to seize the moment before someone else does, and she ends up eating gross brown mush on her toast. That’s why I hide the best avocados under the bathroom sink so Harry can’t find them and has to eat the soft ones first.”

I make a considering sound, tugging at my ear as I take a left at the next block, turning back toward Central Park.

“What?” Kayla asks. “You can’t judge me. I mean, you can, but you still have to be my friend. That’s the way lifetime friendships work. They’re for life. No take backs.”

Smiling, I say, “No, of course not. What would I do without you? I was just thinking that men can be a lot like avocados.”

“Oh, I see,” she says. “Yes, they can. If you don’t seize them at the right moment, someone else will.”

“And then I’ll be stuck dating gross brown mush,” I agree.

“And you deserve so much better than mush. Or Chris.” Her voice heats as she adds, “I’m going to kick him in the shins the next time I see him. How dare he cheat on you? You are so far out of his league, woman. He should have been thanking his lucky stars every day that you consented to date him.”

I sigh. “No, he shouldn’t have. I wasn’t a good girlfriend to him, Kay. We weren’t good together. But I think Leo and I could be. I think he could be…the One.”

She gasps. “Oh my God. But you don’t even believe in the One!”

“I know, but…maybe I do now.”

She gasp-laugh-squeals, but keeps the volume low enough that I don’t have to cringe away from the phone again. “Yes! Then, yes! You have to go for it. Who cares about Vivian? Vivian will have to deal with whatever happens. When you meet the One, you have to jump into the love ocean head-first. Like with Harry. Nothing could have stopped me. I wouldn’t have cared if he used to date my best friend. No offense.”

“None taken,” I say. “But what about my nephews? And Frank? They’re innocent. This could set off a chain reaction that could seriously impact their lives and happiness, too.”

“I know,” she says, her tone softening. “But that’s not your fault. Or your responsibility. Vivian created this situation, and she’s going to have to deal with the fallout sooner or later. Secrets don’t stay secrets. Not in the world we live in now. It’s only a matter of time before her lies catch up to her. At least if you’re the one to expose her, it’ll be coming from someone who cares.”

“Maybe,” I mutter, my pulse picking up as the impressive white fa?ade of the Met comes into view. “Thanks for the talk. I needed some outside perspective.”

“You’re welcome,” she says. “Call any time. And remember, you can talk to me about anything. I’m not going to freak out or judge you or stop being your friend. I mean that…even if you decide you’d rather use the prize money to open your own place instead of investing in our inn.”

I stop dead, causing a woman walking her dog to crash into me from behind.

Once I’ve apologized profusely to both the woman and her confused pug, I move off the sidewalk. Leaning against the marble exterior of a townhome for support, I assure my bestie, “Never, Kayla. Never! Why would you even say something like that? I would never betray you that way.”

“It wouldn’t be a betrayal,” she says, sounding remarkably calm. Running the inn together—and eventually buying out the owners and creating our own lasting, Reindeer Corners legacy—has been our dream since we were kids. “I’m not blind, C.C. Or stupid. I know running the inn hasn’t been as fulfilling for you as it has been for me. Especially lately. You miss the city life and all the action and excitement and endless supply of things to do. If you need to make a fresh start with a B&B or a hotel in a larger market, I would understand. I’d miss you like crazy, but…I’d get it. I just want you to be happy and excited about where your life is headed, even if that means I don’t get to see you every day.”

Fighting tears, I whisper, “You’re incredible. I love you so much.”

“I know. I’m amazing.” She laughs, but her voice wobbles as she adds, “No other big-city friend could ever be as good as me. Promise me I’ll always be your favorite. Forever and ever.”

“Always,” I promise, dabbing at the corners of my eyes.

“And if our husbands die before us and our kids are annoying, we’re still going to get a house together on the beach, right? And collect seashells and be fabulous and old together?”

“No doubt.”

“Good. Oh, and speaking of husband and kids…” She sucks in a breath. “Harry proposed! Last night at the town tree lighting. And I said yes!”

“Oh my God, Kayla! Congratulations,” I say, a smile bursting across my face.

“Thanks! It wasn’t Rockefeller Center, but it was romantic and perfect, and I can’t wait to marry the heck out of him. We’re going to do it at the inn this summer. You’re the maid of honor so block off the last weekend in June. It’s going to be epic! We’re going to party for four days and have at least two wedding cakes. Maybe three.”

“Sounds amazing,” I say, still beaming as I start toward the museum again. “I’m so happy for you. You two are the real deal. I adore you both.”

“Thank you,” she says, giggling. “Now go get your panties melted off, woman. You deserve it. Follow your heart and everything will work out. I just know it.”

I tell her I love her again and end the call, feeling ten pounds lighter.

She’s right. I can’t protect my nephews from their mother’s mistakes. Vivian’s told too many lies. There’s literally no way she’ll be able to avoid dealing with the consequences forever. And when that happens, the only one she’ll have to blame is herself. She violated the trust of the people that matter most, and she’ll have to deal with the fallout.

But I’ll always be grateful to her for one thing…

Thank God she was too blind to see that the man waiting by the museum’s grand marble steps is one in a million.

He really is, a fact he proves by confessing, “I’m sorry. I pushed Ainsley to tell Eduardo to tell you about Jenna’s stalking on the dark web.” His brow furrows with regret. “I instigated a reality show girl fight, and I feel terrible.”

I smile as I study his gorgeous, guilty face. “You’re cute when you’re plagued with remorse.”

He blinks, “You aren’t upset?”

I shake my head. “No. That’s your job.” I shrug. “I’m just glad someone told me, so I could nip it in the bud. Hopefully, our little talk today will keep her from doing anything like that again. To me or to anyone else.”

“I saw what happened, but I couldn’t hear what you’d said until Ainsley sent the footage to my phone a little while back.” His voice drops to a husky whisper as he adds, “When you said your kink was justice… I may have had a minor cardiac event.”

I bite my bottom lip, fighting a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re sexy when you’re calling people on their bullshit.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I murmur, wondering if I have the guts to call him on his bullshit. We’re not meant to be friends, and we both know it.

“Shall we?” he asks, holding out his arm.

I slip my hand through his elbow, and nod, deciding calling him out can wait. For now. “We shall.”

“This way,” he says, nodding to the left side of the massive building. “Members have a special sneaky side entrance with little to no wait.”

I hum as he guides me past the fountain. “I love a sneaky side entrance.”

“I thought you might,” he says with a wiggle of his brows. “Stick with me, kid. I know all this city’s secrets.”

I grin. “I think I will.”