Page 39 of The Christmas Arrangement

I asked for boundaries. He gave me a literal barrier.

This is what I wanted.

Isn’t it?

I lie back on the too-perfect bed and stare at the ceiling.

Why does doing the right thing feel so wrong?

The bed’s too cold without him beside me. I grab my fuzzy socks and sweatshirt and pull them on. But I’m still not comfortable. I sigh and roll to my side, then back to my back.

Azalea, black-eyed Susan, calla lily, daisy.

Chapter 16

A Public Relations Cat-astrophe

Dash

* * *

After a not-so-sensible breakfast of a thick slice of Merry’s gingerbread apple coffee cake (washed down with my iced green drink as penance) and a quick shower, I leave the cottage and swing by Nick’s workshop in the garage to pick up Ivy. She’s sitting on a sawhorse table, keeping her father company as he runs a wood lathe over a piece of cedar. The small workspace smells like fresh pencil shavings.

Ivy catches my eye and waves. Nick turns off the lathe and pushes his safety glasses to the top of his head.

“Morning, Dash.”

“Good morning,” I reply. “Do you mind if I steal your daughter?”

“Just so long as you promise to return her,” he cracks.

I wonder what it would have been like to grow up with a dad like Nick Jolly. I can’t imagine it any more than I could imagine growing up at the North Pole, so I dismiss the thought.

Ivy hops off the table and kisses him on the cheek. And then we head out for my personal tour of Mistletoe Mountain. She’s arranged for Farah, a college student looking for extra cash, to watch the flower shop for her today. So we have all day to wander.

She insists we start at the Snowflake Cafe, Delphina’s coffee shop. When we walk inside a cloud of scent envelopes us. Cinnamon, cardamom, and gingerbread mingling with the aroma of strong coffee in a delicious, heady perfume. A vintage chandelier made entirely of Christmas ornaments catches the morning light, sending prisms across the pink and white tile floor.

Behind the counter, the espresso machine hisses steam. Jazzy instrumental holiday music plays over the speakers. We’re early enough that we’ve beat the crowd of caffeine seekers Ivy says will descend on the shop over the next hour. We walk right up to the gleaming counter. A handful of early risers sit at the tables in front of the window, watching us with open interest while they sip their drinks and nibble on pastries.

Delphina spots us and her whole face lights up under her green elf hat. She leans across the counter and stage-whispers, “You two are trending.”

“We’re what?” Ivy asks, but Delphina’s already spinning her tablet around.

Photos from yesterday’s tree farm visit fill the screen. Me and Ivy by the bonfire, our heads close together. Her carrying the tree with her sisters. Me drinking cider while she smiles at something Jack is saying. The photos are perfect. The hashtags make me cringe, as usual: #DashAndIvy #SmallTownRomance #VampireGoesPastoral.

“Eighty-six thousand likes on this one already.” Delphina taps a photo of Ivy brushing snow off my shoulder. “You two are adorable.”

Through the frosted window, I spot the photographers who’ve been tailing us since we left the cottage approaching. Shane’s already inside, pretending to study the pastry case with intense concentration. He’s not fooling anyone.

“What can I get you?” Delphina asks.

I glance at the menu board, which features drinks with names like “Sugarplum Latte” and “Gingerbread Bliss.” I’m in over my head.

“Whatever Ivy’s having,” I say.

Ivy grins. “You sure about that?”

“How bad could it be?”