taken five minutes became a thirty-minute ordeal when Delores, the store’s owner, felt the need to give hands-on instruction on how to properly dress a gift bag. Only to finish them herself when Regan came up lacking in the bow-making department.
Thank God Gabe had taken Holly this morning. Holly had promised to help Pricilla with the last-minute details of the party, and Regan still had to get Holly’s present. So Gabe, who had been drafted to hang the banner and handle all the heavy lifting, had offered to take Holly with him. Which should have made the morning a breeze.
But it hadn’t. Because all the kid-free time while buying Holly’s present led to too much I’m-not-just-a-mommy time to think: about him and his lips and the way he touched her, looked at her, made love to her.
And the way she still hadn’t told him about the investors’ money. It didn’t matter that she had not a clue as to where Richard or the millions went. Once Gabe knew about the account, the way he looked at her would change. Having Gabe in her corner would change. And she didn’t know if she could handle that. Especially if he decided to retaliate and it somehow affected Holly.
Telling herself that it was an omission and not a lie, Regan clutched the gift bags and hurried down the street toward her car. She did not feel one ounce of guilt when she waved at Mrs. Moberly, who was placing all of the Christmas-themed books in the library’s front window. Did not give in to the guilt when she thanked Stan after he mentioned that her new car battery was in and he could install it Monday. She knew that the universe understood her reasons for keeping a ginormous secret from the man whose bed she sometimes shared. But then she set the gift bags on the top of her car, opened her trunk—and immediately slammed it shut.
“No way,” she whispered, cracking the trunk again. This time slamming it so hard that half the kitty-themed bags toppled to the ground. “No freaking way.”
She closed her eyes, said a little prayer to ward off evil spirits and curses, and opened the trunk.
“Merry Christmas one and all,” Randolph said, smiling up at her from behind the green and red box containing one kitty pillow pet that Holly had all but begged for. All but, because begging would be considered rude.
Well, there was nothing “all but” about the way Regan reacted. Rude or not, she dropped enough four-letter words to send Holly to Europe for the summer. Either this was the universe’s form of a Dirty Jar and she was being punished for transgressions against the DeLucas, this town, and Christmas as a whole, or someone had a sick sense of humor. Or—Regan stood still, her back straight, head forward, only her eyes moving around the street, looking for clues—someone was setting her up.
Problem was, that someone could be anyone on the ever-growing list of people Regan Martin had crossed, intentionally or not. When Regan was satisfied that she was, for the most part, alone, she crouched low, getting in Big Red’s face.
“You don’t scare me,” she whispered in her most intimidating voice. It was the same one her mom had used when Regan got caught beheading the neighbor girl’s Barbie for making fun of her mom’s accent. “In fact, you should be scared. It appears I suffer from anger issues—just ask your hooved brethren. And for your safety and my sanity, after Holly’s party you are going back on that pedestal of yours, where you will stay. Forever.” She grabbed Holly’s present. “Let that penetrate through that thick, plastic head of yours.” And, needing to get in the last word, she quickly slammed the trunk shut with a resounding thud, grabbed the party bags, and walked across the street.
Based on the outside alone, Pricilla and the Mrs. Clauses had gone all out. The dancing elves in the windows had been replaced with kitties in tiaras, and two miniature Christmas trees, covered in candy canes and glittery bulbs, framed either side of the glass door. What caught Regan’s eye, though, was nothing shy of an early Christmas gift and made all of the Randolph rage fade into the background.
A small white sign hung in the doorway, surrounded by red twinkling lights and attached with a golden bow read, “Private party for Holly’s 6th Birthday Tea.”
As promised, Holly had assisted with every aspect of planning her party. She