The Plight Before Christmas(33)

“Honestly…I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“What?”

“Let me clarify. You aren’t a good idea.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“I know your type.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t.” A burst of music blares through the speakers, and I shudder. She notices.

“Don’t like music?”

“Not mixed with crowds.” Fuck. I sound like a freak.

“Seriously? Don’t like concerts, either?”

“Hate them.”

“Wow. This is serious. Good thing I didn’t meet you at the coffee house. We have nothing in common. What’s your damage?”

I shrug. “Just an introvert.”

“If that’s the case, what are you doing here, Eli?”

“Didn’t want to be here. I was dragged in kicking and screaming, but I’m thinking maybe you’re the reason, Whitney.”

“Full already, Eli?” Ruby asks, pulling me out of my haze as Whitney rears her head back in slight surprise as though she just had the same memory. Our gaze holds as Brenden clears his throat. It’s then I realize most of the table has gone quiet and is focused on us. And that’s us, or at least it was us. It’s this…thing, this draw, this chemistry, this attraction happening now between us that made her impossible to forget.

For me, Whitney Collins was the one that got away…because I pushed her away. Even so, I never forgot her, and it’s because of this invisible thread that’s bound me to her since the day we met. It appeared—much like her—out of nowhere.

“Don’t let him fool you, Mom,” Whitney speaks up, her eyes dulling with accusation. “Eli believes the body is a temple, and carbs were manufactured by the devil. He only ate the lasagna last night to be polite.”

Ruby turns to me with guilt-ridden eyes. “If I had known, I would have bought turkey bacon.” I open my mouth to reply as Whitney continues to nail my balls to my chair.

“He’s a clean eater who works out twice a—”

Before she can finish her sentence, I shove a piece of toast into my mouth, chewing slowly while lifting a brow in challenge.

“Looks like he’s a bread man now,” Ruby quips as I do my best not to gag on the mouthful of bread.

“Tubby time,” Whitney speaks up with an eye roll just for me to break our stare off just as Gracie presents the table with the paper-filled Frosty hat. “Not yet, Auntie Whit. It’s time to pick a name.”

“Eli picks first,” Ruby speaks up around a forkful of eggs. Gracie brings the hat over to me, and I draw, making sure to use my poker face when I open it.

“Eli, don’t tell,” Gracie instructs.

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” I assure her, pocketing my paper.

“So bossy, this one,” Ruby says. “Wonder where she got that?” The entirety of the table looks straight at Serena, who rolls her eyes. Whitney draws and stands, not bothering to glance at her paper before whisking her human shield up the stairs for his bath. I gaze on after her until she disappears out of sight, mind set and up for the challenge.

What are you doing here, Eli?

Maybe you’re still the reason, Whitney.





Setting Peyton on the bathroom counter, I pull his arms through his shirt sleeve as Alexa makes another announcement.

Alexa: Announcement: “Leaving in five, kids!”

I can’t help my laugh at Brenden’s audible protest from somewhere in the cabin. Gracie walks into the Jack and Jill bathroom connecting the two upstairs bedrooms, makeup kit in hand, and frowns when she sees I’m ready.

“Auntie Whit, I was going to do your makeup!”

“We’re in a hurry, baby, no time. Tomorrow, okay?”

“Fine,” she says, nodding toward Peyton. “You put his shirt on backward, silly.”

Glancing down, I see the animated Tonka truck on his back and shake my head. “Duh.”

“Duh,” Peyton repeats, and we both giggle. Serena walks in from the bedroom, pulling a brush through her hair. “Gracie, go out there and help grandpa clear the windshields.”

“Gah, I have to do everything!”

“And make sure you have extra pads in your purse, just in case.”

Her face flushes. “Shh, Daddy might hear.” She stomps out of the room as Serena takes a seat next to us on the lid of the toilet.

“Not a chance of reconciliation, huh? You two were looking at each other like you were about to make love.”

“Shut up.”

“Sha up,” Peyton repeats. I wince at Serena, running a dab of gel between my hands before smoothing it over Peyton’s cowlick.

“Sorry.”

Serena ignores my apology. “Fireworks…that’s what that was. It’s so obvious.”

“Speaking of fireworks, what happened when you went to bed last night?”

She frowns. “What do you mean?”

I waggle my brows. “Did you, you know?”

“What? No. There’s family in every room of this house.”

“So… Gracie is on a blow-up in the media room, and Peyton’s in the pack n play. It could be fun to sneak it in, literally. I mean, it’s got to be hard to go without, and we’ll be here for another five days—”