Page 26 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell

Nat’s eyes lit up. “Because we need her for the Winter Extravaganza.”

“Booked already,” Marquee said, scrolling her iPad. “First week of December, Master’s Ball. Second week, Crocker Gala.”

“Perfect,” I said too fast. “That leaves?—”

Her smile faltered. “Actually, the third week was just taken this morning.”

“Damn it,” I muttered.

“By whom?” Cat asked.

Marquee hesitated, then looked at me. “Mitchell and Associates.”

I froze. Jim. That smug, cheese-tray-pushing man had beaten me here.

I pasted on a smile. “Of course. How… thoughtful of him.”

Cat’s brows shot up. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

Laney swooped in, stopping me from saying anymore. “Let’s order all of our yummy food and coffees and let Avery fill us in outside.”

We loaded up—ciders, lattes, a mountain of pumpkin rolls—and followed Marquee’s direction toward the patio she’d just remodeled. The awning stretched overhead in crisp white canvas, twinkle lights strung across beams, with pumpkins and gourds spilling out of rustic baskets around every corner. Beyond the railing, the Pacific shimmered blissfully.

I should’ve been calm. Instead, I was buzzing with sugar, caffeine, and the need to throttle my husband.

Once everyone settled in, I tore a piece from a cinnamon roll and sighed because damn—Nat wasn’t wrong, those things were sinful. “So, here’s the thing,” I said, eyes darting to Cat. “The other night, I busted Jim’s ass for being a cheap scrooge on Christmas, and somehow, he and Izzy have ended up turning this into a competition. By this afternoon, my previously sulking husband began to look like the transformed Grinch who wanted to give back Christmas.”

Ash groaned, rubbing her forehead. “Don’t tell me…”

“Yep.” I chewed, swallowed, and braced myself. “Jim’s the one who booked Marquee, not me.”

Nat let out an evil laugh. “Ohhh, this just got interesting.”

“And it gets better,” I added. “To use my husband’s words, this is a Mitchell family holiday planning war.”

“Oh, shit,” Nat said, eyes gleaming. “Are the men involved?”

“Not that I know ofyet.” I sighed. “Right now, he’s just manipulated our daughters into his little spy ring.”

“Jesus,” Laney muttered with a laugh, glancing at Cat. “Fair warning—when these guys get involved in the holidays, it turns into a saga. You probably shouldn’t judge us by what happens next.”

Cat didn’t look the least bit intimidated. If anything, her smile said she was ready for blood. “Honey, this is exactly the kind of challenge in planning these grand-scale events that I live for.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Nat warned with mock-seriousness. “Last time, it was a disaster story we’re still talking about.”

“Why can’t we ever have a normal holiday season?” Ash groaned. “If the men aren’t on Jim’s side now, they will be soon.”

“No complaining. You know what you married into.” I stabbed my fork into a chunk of cinnamon roll and pointed it toward Cat. “And that’s exactly why we have Cat. We’re competing for the best holiday event. I want private jets flying in associates from all his global offices. I want every employee there that is able to make it, there. And for God’s sake, don’t breathe a word in front of the girls. They’re already reporting back to him.”

“And Huntington Gardens is out,” I informed Cat. “He already knows about it.”

Cat nodded. “No problem. I’ll find us a bigger, better venue. We’ll crush him.”

Nat clapped. “That’s the holiday spirit.”

Laney groaned into her latte. “Just please don’t judge us, Cat. If my husband gets his way, every single male employee ends up with a life-sized nutcracker.”

Cat smirked. “Let them prank. We’ll win with class. If the men want carnival, we’ll create a Winter Wonderland with hotels, parties, and a night no one forgets.”