Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
I laughed. “You’re an asshole.”
“Bet.”
“Bet what?”
“It means yes, Mr. Saint Clair, master of Mistletoe Town.”
I turned to leave. There was only so much bullshit I could take, and my cup had run over that day.
“Chill… I’m the last person to be giving you advice.”
“Obviously.” I halted my departure, shifting my eyes back to his. “Yet I’m still here.”
“Aw, hell… can’t take a joke now, Grinchy? Man up. Does she know how you feel?”
I shrugged. “We kissed a few times in high school, but it was mostly under mistletoes. It was kind of our thing…”
“You’re more pussy-whipped than I thought,” Dan remarked, annoying me further. “Don’t women have a sixth sense about this stuff? She can probably smell it on you, but if you don’t want to go the route of being honest with her, then I suggest you just go with it for her. You like her, show her. Simple as that.”
I inhaled a deep breath, contemplating what to say next. In the end, I decided to change the subject. “What about the town? I still don’t want it, and I have to do all these festivities beginning tomorrow. You should see the itinerary. It’s ridiculous. I’m going to have tinsel coming out of my ass by the time this is over.”
“When what’s over?”
“Christmas.”
He scoffed out, patting my back. “I hate to break it to you, Mr. Saint Clair, but there is no over for you. You own Mistletoe Town, remember? Get used to it.”
I thought about it for a second before I answered, “The only saving grace is that Noelle will be my babysitter.”
“Then I’d use it to your advantage.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you want her to forgive you, then you need to show her that you’ve changed.”
“In what way?”
“In all of it.”
“But I haven’t.”
“Then you should.”
“That makes no sense.”
“How much do you want the girl? You ask a woman like her out for one reason and one reason only. Do I have to spell it out for you? Girls catch feelings quick, so I’d make sure you understand what you’re doing when it comes to her before you string her along.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means maybe you’re ready to settle down and have a girlfriend. Or maybe you’re just lonely.”
“I’m not lonely. There’s just something about her. There’s always been something about her.”
“Always?” he asked, glaring at me like a deer in headlights. “You mean you’ve been thinking about her all these years?”
“Maybe.”
“How often?”
“Often enough.”
“Why didn’t you call her?”
“What are you, Dr. Freud?”
“Well, Sigmund would tell you it stems back to your mother, and come to think of it, that makes sense.” He nodded. “You’re screwed.”
I pointed at him. “You know what? This conversation hasn’t helped me in the least. If anything, you’ve made me more confused.”
“Well, pull up those panties and start acting like the man she needs if you want to get her back in your life. You said she’s obsessed with Christmas. I’d start there, my friend.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“That’s the shittiest advice you’ve ever given me. I feel personally offended by what you just suggested.” I shoulder-checked him and walked toward the door.
The audacity of him to tell me to pretend to be another one of my worst nightmares.
I wouldn’t turn into Saint Nicholas.
I refused to.
CHAPTER 9
NICHOLAS
From the moment I walked into my rental house, the lyrics for “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” played through the speakers, and I was slapped in the face with nothing I could have ever expected.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”
Cujo cockapoo came barreling down the hall, wearing one antler in the middle of his head and a red reindeer nose. He resembled Max from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It didn’t end there; it was only the beginning. The entire entrance was decorated in Grinch decor.
“Oh my God…” I strained through a clenched jaw. “I’m going to kill her…”
Cujo barked, quickly detouring to the left, and I was slapped in the face yet again with the twelve-foot, fully decked-out Grinch Christmas tree in the back of the open space of the living room. I wasn’t talking about a few ornaments thrown on a tree.
No… there was a whole ass Grinch head where the star or angel should be, and his arm hung out the side with his signature pinched fingers, holding a string that had a red glittery ball dangling from it.
The rest was themed out the same way with ornaments and several huge Whoville-type bows while ribbons and garland shined bright with all the mixed patterns surrounded by warm colored lights.
To top it all off, it had plush dolls of Cindy Lou, Max, and the Grinch hanging off several branches. These weren’t decorations you could buy in one shopping spree; this was years and years of collections, and I didn’t have to wonder where it all came from.