Page 40 of Mistletoe Mischief

Pike met her gaze finally, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “On the off chance I’m about to be called a perv again, I’m going to go with yes.”

Ryler laughed. “At least you’re honest.”

“There’s no other way to be.”

His words triggered a small measure of guilt for Ryler, who wasn’t being honest with him. Not that she owed him or the world that piece of herself, but she appreciated honesty and knowing exactly who someone was. There was nothing worse than being blindsided.

Both Neil and Kit were gone when they made it back to the truck, as was the tree.

“I guess they didn’t need me after all,” he said.

“Or me,” she joked.

Pike lifted the tailgate up and latched it. “I better get back to the farm. If you do decide to go into town and check out A Shop for All Seasons, tell Holly that I sent you.”

“My, don’t you have all the connections.”

Pike grinned. “She’s another Winters. And if you were wondering, we never dated.”

“I wasn’t.” I was.

“Hey, Pike!” Alia called from the top of the stairs.

Ryler followed Pike, who stopped on the first step. “Yeah?”

“If you’re around this weekend, maybe you could give us a tour of the area?”

“Alia, I told you his calendar was blacked out—”

“Only because it was a holiday,” Pike interjected. “My parents are coming back tomorrow, and I plan on spending the day with them, but what about Sunday?”

“Sunday works. Thank you.” Alia ducked back inside.

Pike turned to Ryler with a grin. “I guess I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Maybe,” she said casually. “Unless I have a headache that day.”

“Suit yourself, Kitten,” he said, booping her nose with the tip of his finger.

“Next time you stick that in my face, I’m going to bite it off.”

“Oh yeah?” Pike brushed past her, close enough for his shoulder to nudge her as he headed for the truck. Before he climbed inside, Pike called over his shoulders, “You should know, I bite back.”

Chapter Eleven

Pike stared into the bonfire in the Winters’ front yard, Anthony’s message weighing on his mind. Anthony had texted early that morning, letting Pike know that he was staying in Boise with his brother Bradley for the weekend and he’d be back early Sunday. Both brothers had ducked out of the family’s Thanksgiving due to high-stakes drama, but Anthony wasn’t ready to come back yet. Of all his siblings, Pike knew that Anthony was the closest with Bradley, but it was still weird that his frugal friend would drop several hundred dollars at the last minute on a hotel for the weekend. Especially with Alia and the Excursions crew in town.

Although Pike had tried calling him on his way back from dropping off the tree at Ryler and Alia’s rental, Anthony hadn’t answered his phone and still hadn’t returned Pike’s call. Anthony didn’t usually shut him out, but Pike kept thinking about the meeting with Merry and how put out Anthony had been. Then he’d been bitchy in his responses to Pike’s ornament suggestions for their tree on Tuesday, and when Pike suggested wrapping their snowmobiles in lights and riding them in the Parade of Lights, Anthony had snapped that they couldn’t do everything. Maybe he was sick of Pike, and this weekend was an intended break from him?

On a whim, Pike pulled up their location app. When they’d started Adventures in Mistletoe, Pike insisted they download it just in case either of them had an accident while out with guests. Anthony agreed it was a good idea, and the two had even gotten Nick and Noel to join them.

Pike tapped on Anthony, and it showed him in Boise, but when Pike zoomed in, it wasn’t at a hotel. Anthony was in a residential neighborhood. Had he decided to go back and try to make amends with his dad after all?

Or he’s hooked up with someone and is chilling at her house.

Pike glanced around the firepit, taking in the happy couples except for Sam Griffin, Clark’s very single older brother; he wished he’d had a date to run off to tonight. Everyone was sitting in chairs, close together or holding hands. Sam and his nephew, Jace, were roasting marshmallows, and Jace laughed when his uncle set one on fire and started puffing on it hard.

“You should let me teach you how to roast a marshmallow correctly, son,” Clark said, turning his marshmallow slowly in the coals. “Patience is the key.”