The Holiday Switch(42)
“All right, you’re done. Thank you for helping to demonstrate,” Teddy says to me as Sarah lines the children up. “You did well.”
“I guess,” I say. “Should I take all this off?” I start to fuss with the carabiner, just as he reaches out, and our hands collide. I bite my lip from the rush of giddiness that mixes with my uncertainty.
“Sorry.” He clears his throat, eyes rising briefly to my face. His expression is different from the other looks he’s given me, and his cheeks pink before he looks away. He unhooks the carabiner and works quickly at loosening the buckles, though he’s gentle and professional. He’s so at ease being this close to me. He’s probably so at ease being this close to anyone if he’s helping them with their harnesses.
To move the moment forward, I force small talk. “How often do you work events like this?”
“Not often, but I was here for practice, and I got someone to take my shift at the gift shop. I get a little bit of a discount when I help out with these big groups. Tita Lou doesn’t know about this either.”
“God, so many secrets.”
“Like someone I know.” His eyebrows lift.
“I won’t tell her, I promise,” I say, just to make it clear. Because I’m involved now too.
It reminds me of my blog post from the other day. What exactly are we enabling with each other, and is it a good thing?
TINSEL AND TROPES
A HOLIDAY BOOK BLOG
Title: There’s No Place Like Home During Christmas by Wanda Strong
GENRE: ADULT CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Do opposites really attract?
The setup of this book was pure perfection. The setting was gorgeous. Both protagonists were likable and in general, kind. And the plot, about a real estate agent and the town mayor who’ve hated each other’s guts since they both competed throughout high school but must band together to help the town B&B, is cute enough. Though yes, the representation has much to be desired—in the large cast of characters, there were only two people of color. I mean, I’ve lived in a small town all my life and, trust me, we exist. (Yes, I’m probably starting to sound like a broken record, but here’s my post about the lack of diversity in books, especially in small town romances.)
But of all the romance tropes, the enemies-to-lovers arrangement is the hardest for me to get on board with. After the couple gets stuck during a snowstorm—hello, forced proximity!—suddenly the same things that used to annoy them are now endearing?
How does that even work in real life? Can you ever really forget someone else’s faults? Physical attraction only goes so far, doesn’t it?
And yet, this book worked for me. It really did. It was the “only one bed” trope that sealed the deal. And sometimes you just need a happy ending. I also think the little bit of magic that played out in the book helped too. Sorry, I’m not spoiling!
Pros: Perfect reading when it’s cold outside.
Cons: I think I want more heat next time.
Recommended for: Those looking for a new book boyfriend, because the hero is swoonworthy.
Rating: 4 stars
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 24
The six of us burst into the house. It’s negative one million degrees outside, and the twins are cranky. Snow spills onto the linoleum floor as each of us sheds our coat and boots, shivering as we enter the kitchen.
“I’m so hungry!” Graham says.
“When can we open presents?” Grant asks.
“After noche buena.” Mom is already in the kitchen, taking food out of the oven, which was kept on warm while we were at children’s Mass.
We start setting the table, grabbing the special tableware from the buffet. It’s like an assembly line with the twins putting down the placemats and napkins, Irene with the utensils, and me with the plates and bowls, while Mom’s Christmas playlist filters in from the background.
Jingling comes from the tree, and tinsel flutters to the ground. Dad emerges from the back, glitter dotting his forehead. A present is in his hand, and he slips it between the pine branches.
I look down and bite my lip. It’s his present to Mom.
“Bringing the food to the table,” Mom warns.
The kids rush to sit, and Dad and I help Mom bring the food over: A large soup tureen filled with arroz caldo, a plate of liempo, and leche flan. It’s a small menu since it’s just us, but it’s special and filling so we can fall asleep straight after we open our family presents.
We are virtually silent except for the occasional moan—the food is that good. It takes a mere fifteen minutes before the twins wiggle in their chairs with their bowls licked clean. Still, they hold their tongues, knowing what I learned pretty quickly at their age: The less they distract, the faster the parents finish eating and the quicker we get to open presents.
Mom is in the middle of scooping more arroz caldo into her bowl when she says, without looking up, “Want to open presents?”
“Really?” Irene’s face lights up. “But you’re not done.”
“You all are being so patient.” Mom laughs and nods toward the living room. “Why not switch it up this year?”