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“Please?” he clasps his hands together and falls dramatically onto his knees. “You’re the queen of girly games and shit.”
I slap my hand over my forehead. “It was one game of pass the parcel!” Who needs music when you can stick an app-controlled vibrator in a wrapping paper ball full of gag gifts?
“I’ll never forget Great-Aunt Glenda’s face.” He laughs then clasps his hands together, giving me puppy dog eyes. “Please? It would be a good chance to get to know your future sister-in-law.”
I head toward the stairs, hating that he’s right. Getting to know her is important if I’m going to bridge the distance between me and my brother. “Does she like drinking games?”
“Of course.” Timothy follows me up the stairs, steps around me into the kitchen, and randomly smacks the back of Nic’s head because boys are weird I guess.
I stop in the doorway. “Mom, do you know where the Ping-Pong balls are? I need them all. Some spray paint too.” Time to get started on the games.
Nic glances up from folding a kitchen towel in half. “Making more dicks?”
I give him the sweetest smile in my arsenal. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an adequate one. I…I guess I’m afraid I’ll forget what one looks like.”
Heblushes.
Victory is mine.
“Spray paint is in the garage.” My mom pauses, oven mitts on her hips, brow furrowed. “I’m not sure about the Ping-Pong balls.”
“Those are in the attic,” Timothy says, slipping a shortbread into the pocket of his sweats. “I’d get them, but I have to go to the airport. Pick up the wifey. Find some quiet back road so I can have my way with her in the back seat. Nic can help you find some balls.”
The attic is a graveyard for my watercolors. I’m not going up there.
“Hey, Jessie,” Timothy says, giving Nic a not-so-gentle push toward me. “Mistletoe.”
I do the smart thing and run.
Chapter five
Jessie
Isighintomyhot chocolate and stare at the unbroken snow out the dining room window. Big flakes drift down, slowly accumulating on the shrubbery. Even the weather is half-assing it today.
The house has gone quiet, emptied of the noisiest people. Amanda and Hazel took the kids to visit some friends, Timothy’s at the airport awaiting his bride-to-be, and Nic must have gotten lost looking for his balls.
Or the Ping-Pong balls Timothy volunteered him to find.
What if Mina thinks my games are dumb? I need this to work. I need her to like me.
“Jessie, honey. Are you all right?” My mother is deftly slinging tray after tray of cookies in an endless cycle, filling the entire island and most of the table with fresh-baked deliciousness.
“Fine, Mom.” My offer to help her with Cookie Day was politely turned down. Nic gets to help. He always does. Baking isn’t my thing, but it always annoys me how easily he fits into my family when I don’t.
My Bailey’s-laced hot chocolate and all the cookies surrounding me are a good consolation prize. Thank god my cream-colored pants are soft and stretchy. After being introduced to Addison Kincaid while wearing a cow onesie, I stopped wearing pajamas all day at my parents’ house. My goal is the intersection of hot and comfortable and this outfit is exactly that. Cozy but polished.
My mother taps me on the shoulder. “Come make the mulled wine.”
“Wow,” I say, leaping from my chair at the opportunity. “You’re trusting me to make the mulled wine?”
My mother follows me into the butler’s pantry. She pulls out a couple of bottles and stuffs them into my arms, piling on some spices, a couple of oranges, and lemons. “That’ll do it.”
I edge my way back to the sole patch of kitchen counter not already claimed, nodding as she rattles off directions while she prepares another batch of cookies for the oven.
Not like mulled wine is hard.
I open the bottle before I remember I need the slow cooker. My orange rolls toward the edge of the counter and I reach for it, bumping the bottle of wine. It teeters for a second before falling forward with a clunk, unleashing a red tsunami over the countertop, splashing my clothes, and spilling onto the floor.
