Page 69 of The Christmas Arrangement

“Look at me and say it.”

I can’t. If I look at him, I’ll break. “It’s what’s best.”

“If that’s what you believe look and me and tell me to go home, Ivy.”

I stand up and put my boots back on. Then with my hand on the doorknob, I turn and meet his dark, pained eyes from across the room.

“Go home, Dash.”

I pull the door open, step out in the cold night air, and break apart.

Chapter 27

Ladies Dancing and Lords A’Drinking

Dash

* * *

I sit slumped on the couch in my red velvet tux and stare at the door, willing Ivy to walk back into the cottage. When there’s a sharp rap on the door, my breath catches. Did I do it? Then I hear Nick calling my name and sigh. The universe sent the wrong Jolly.

I trudge across the room and open the door. Nick, Jack, and Titus stand on the porch, wearing expectant expressions.

I don’t invite them in. “Do you need something?”

Nick shoulders his way past me and the others follow. Defeated, I close the door and turn to face them.

“Get out of that monkey suit,” Jack tells me. “Go put on jeans and a sweater or something.”

“Why?” I demand.

“Because Ivy’s bawling her eyes out in my kitchen, and Noelle and my daughters told us to leave. I figure you’re over here sulking for the same reason she’s crying. So let’s go have a beer.” Nick delivers this rationale in a matter-of-fact tone.

It has the effect of propelling me to my feet. Halfway to the bedroom to change, I turn around. “Wait. Where’s my mother?”

“Griselda and Marley spirited her off to the North Pole Social Club so she could see what high society looks like in Mistletoe Mountain’s most exclusive members-only club.”

“Oh, she’ll like that. What it does it look like, though?” My curiosity is piqued.

“Like the rest of Mistletoe Mountain, only the music isn’t as loud, and you pay a monthly tab instead of paying at every visit,” Nick explains.

“How do you become a member?” Jack wonders.

“It’s invitation only,” Nick says seriously.

Titus rolls his eyes. “The invitation is printed in the monthly Mistletoe Mountaineer magazine. And it’s free to join. You just have to scan the QR code.”

I can’t help laughing. “Why bother?”

“So people can say they belong to the town’s most exclusive members-only club. Now change, because we’re taking to you an actual private club and you’re not walking in with us looking like that.”

Nobody bothers to tell me the name of this private club until I’m squeezed into the back seat of Noelle’s hatchback, knees near my elbows, and we’re rumbling out of town.

“It’s not really a private club,” Titus begins, his shoulder rubbing against mine. “But Nick belongs to a club that meets there and they have a private room.”

Nick and Jack exchange looks in the front seat. My antenna goes up. “Hold on, what kind of club?”

“The Lords of the Mountain,” Nick says. “It’s a group of motorcycle enthusiasts.”