My Life as a Holiday Album: A Small-town Romance (my life as an album Book 5)

by LJ Evans

  I laughed. I hadn’t started a snowball fight in years. In so long it seemed like another person had begun the ones when we were kids.

  Ty bent to scrape up snow, and I took off running, slipping and sliding even in my snow boots. My heart was full of happiness as Cole and Ty continued throwing balls in my direction.

  I screeched, and the screech caused the door of the storage room to pop open, our siblings and cousins pouring from the building. Pretty soon, we were all lofting and throwing snowballs. There were no teams. There was no men against women, or Waterses against Abbotts, or any other combination. It was a free-for-all.

  We moved from the parking spots to the empty lot beyond them where the foot of snow lay untouched by shovels or hands. We were grown adults acting like children. And none of us cared.

  There were screams and grunts and amusement in the air.

  Cole had not let up once. He had been throwing each one of his snowballs at me, even when Grace and Mayson had tossed some in his direction. I ran toward the lone, ancient oak tree residing at the back of the lot. I was going so fast I had to use my hands on the bark to stop myself, and I still slid around it. My fingers were numb, my nose was numb, and I was drenched with freezing water, but I was still grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

  I peeked out from behind the trunk and was surprised to find Cole so close. I screamed, turning to leave, but I tripped on a tree root. As I started to fall, Cole caught my flailing arms in an attempt to stop me from going over, but it was too late. I was already falling, and my lack of balance took him with me. We ended up in a pile on the ground with me on my back and him on top.

  We were both covered in snow and smiles as laughter broke from my chest again.

  “Sorry, I brought you down with me,” I said, looking up into his pale-green eyes. They were twinkling.

  “I don’t think you’re sorry one bit. Look at what you started.” He smiled, but he didn’t once look at the group squealing and throwing snow at each other.

  The heat of his body settled into me, but I didn’t push him off, and he didn’t move. We just stared at each other, grins on our faces and in our eyes. The seriousness he’d worn during his phone call and my melancholy from the day before gone. Joy left behind.

  “Ty didn’t seem surprised at all when you started this,” Cole said.

  “Nope.”

  “You’ve surprised the shit out of me, though. Multiple times today.”

  “That’s what you get for calling me predictable.”

  “I don’t think that was the word I used.”

  “Ginny?” Stephen called out.

  We were hidden from the others by the old oak, but it wouldn’t take them long to find us.

  “I need to know something,” Cole said, as we both ignored my cousin. I just stared, the air between us full of an unfamiliar charge. One I wanted to touch. One I was unaccustomed to but welcomed.

  “Would you have kissed me?” he asked. “If the others hadn’t shown up.”

  “Ginny?”

  I pushed at him, and he rolled off. The snow was now clinging to both sides of me and him. I stood up, looking down to where he lay and, mustering as much sass as I could, said, “I guess you’ll never know.”

  I started to walk away, and he groaned, throwing unpacked snow in my direction. I just laughed more.

  “There you are,” Stephen said. “Holy shit, you’re covered. You’re going to be frozen.”

  “I already am. What’s up?”

  “I have to go. Edie’s had the baby.”

  “Oh my gosh. How are they? What did she have?” I asked, smiling, my heart filling even more. Edie had wanted to be surprised by the gender of the baby, and no matter how much some of us had begged and pleaded, she’d never relented.

  “Mama said they’re both perfect. She had a baby girl. Seven pounds something.”

  I hugged Stephen. “We should all go see her.”

  He nodded. “We should, but because some stinker started a snowball fight”—he shoved snow into my face from a hidden handful—“we have to go get dry clothes first.”

  I pushed the snow off of me, still smiling.

  “We needed it,” I said.

  Stephen and I turned to look at the gang of people who were grinning, but also now shivering as they brushed at the wet clinging to them.

  “Yeah. We did,” he said.

  Everyone headed back toward the parking lot. Phil was waiting for us at the back door of the bar, cigarette lit.

  “What happened to y’all?” he asked.

  “A snow war,” Khi said with a smile.

  “Is the event room already cleared out?” he asked.

  “Cleared, cleaned, and ready to be decorated,” I said, trying not to breathe in the gross cigarette smell. He smiled at me, taking in my wet clothes and wet hair, causing a shiver to creep over me that had nothing to do with the snow. When had Phil gotten so creepy?

  “What’s next?” he asked.

  “Well, we’re heading out, but some of us might be back later to do some more work,” I told him.

  “Sounds good. You have the key still?”

  I nodded. Thankfully, it was zipped up in the inside pocket of my jacket.

  Phil looked us over, eyes lingering on me, crushed out his cigarette, and went back inside. I shuddered, and when I turned around, Cole’s eyes were squinted with displeasure.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  It was dark out, the light from the back parking lot of the bar was dim, and I was stupidly hauling a floor polisher up the metal stairs. I wasn’t sure why I was investing this amount of time into a space that didn’t belong to us. Maybe because I’d seen Edie’s face torn between pure bliss and deep sorrow that afternoon. I just wanted to give her this. To have the party she’d planned go off without a hitch in a place that was as beautiful as she’d imagined it could be when other things in her life weren’t going so well.

  When we’d cleared out the room this morning, I’d noticed the wooden floors were actually in pretty decent shape, but they were dull from years of neglect. I wasn’t sure anyone would even notice the floors, but I knew they could be buffed into a shine.

  At least, I hoped they could, because I’d never buffed a floor. Which made it hard to explain why I thought I could suddenly polish these. I pushed the key in the lock, turned the handle, and dragged the machine into the building. I had to cross the room using my phone’s light to turn on the two tiny bulbs that swung from the ceiling.

  Tomorrow, we were going to string hundreds of strands of white lights like a net across the ceiling. I wanted the room to glow, pushing away any darkness. I wanted it to show off the people and the family we were celebrating. Ringing in a new year that was full of change for many of us.

  I read the instructions on the polisher twice and was about to start when the door opened. Phil sauntered in, mouth dropping as he took in my awkward position installing the brushes. I immediately adjusted so I wasn’t giving him a good view of my backside. He looked around, as if he expected the rest of the gang, before returning his eyes to me.

  “Is that a polisher?” he asked.

  As I stood up, he sauntered over.

  “Yes. I didn’t think you’d mind,” I said.

  “Hell no. If you’re prepared to do the hard work for me, why would I complain?”

  He threw his arm across my shoulders, and I froze, holding my breath at the odor that had hung over him all day. He smelled like stale beer and old cigarettes covered with cheap cologne.

  I tried to take a step back, but he tightened his arm around my shoulder.

  “This is going to be a damn fine place to rent out,” Phil said, pleased with himself.

  I started to step back again, but his grip didn’t lessen. It was just starting to make me uncomfortable enough to say something when the door blew open. Sleet and water came in as a tall, tall body crossed the doorway, taking us in with a glare.

 
Cole

  PRESENT WITHOUT A BOW

  “Me without you is like a present without a bow, girl, yeah

  Sit by the fire, we've been moving too fast.”

  Performed by Kacey Musgraves

  Written by Bridges / Jenkins / Laird / Musgraves

  It felt like the lunch Mayson, Grace, and I had eaten hours ago at the mall had never entered my body. I was starving. Not an unusual occurrence for me. My metabolism normally had food flying through me. But even though my stomach was rumbling an unhappy tune, I wasn’t sure I wanted to venture out into the sleet and snow that still pummeled from the sky.

  After the glorious snowball fight that a certain good witch had started, it had taken me hours to get warm. I’d had to buy new shoes because my Chucks were shot. I’d replaced them with a pair of thick hiking boots and added on to the purchase a much warmer jacket. They wouldn’t be useful back in L.A., but I could take them with me to Ireland.

  I opened the room service menu, scanned through it, and wasn’t happy about any of the choices or prices. Ridiculous to charge twenty dollars for a single-sized pizza that would barely curb my hunger. I looked out the window into the dark again, sighing. I’d have to risk going downtown.

  I set out at a pace that was almost a jog, determined to stay warm and get inside as quickly as possible. I stopped at the cross street, looking across at McFlannigan’s, debating whether to go in for bar food. My eyes journeyed to the top floor, and I was surprised to see the lights on and dim shadows moving about. I didn’t even hesitate. I changed course and headed for the back of the building.

  Just as I’d suspected, Ginny’s car was parked in the dim light at the foot of the stairs. There were more cars in the lot, too, because the bar was hopping, music and voices echoing out the back door that was propped open.

  My stomach did a funny flip at the thought of the seedy bar owner being upstairs with Ginny. The way he’d been eyeing her ever since I’d first seen him was enough to make my blood curdle. I wasn’t sure how the brother and cousins had missed it.

  I took the stairs two at a time, opening the door with such force that it slammed into the wall. There he was, with his arms around her shoulders. I fought the urge to fling him from the room. He took in my glare, removed his hand from Ginny, and eased toward me.

  At the door, he threw his words back at her. “Thanks, kid. I really appreciate all you’re doing.”

  He was already leaving as Ginny asked, “What are you doing here?”

  I took off my new coat that was dripping onto my new boots and set it near the door.

  “What on earth are you doing here so late?” I asked back.

  “I wanted to see if I could bring the floors to life a little,” she said.

  She waved a hand at a behemoth of a machine that I realized was a floor polisher.

  “Do a lot of wood polishing, do you?” I asked with a grin.

  Her face broke into a real smile.

  “Nope. Never.”

  “You’re putting a lot of hard work into this for that sleaze of a guy,” I responded, waving my thumb back toward the door and the departed Phil.

  “It’s not for him,” she said. “It’s for Edie. For all the people we’re celebrating, like my daddy, Aunt Wynn, Uncle Lonnie, and Aunt Cam.”

  She kneeled as if she were going to install the brushes. I joined her, taking them from her hands. “You’re doing it wrong.”

  “How is it that you know about polishers?”

  “I worked for the maintenance staff in college. One of my jobs was waxing the basketball court on a regular basis.” I’d waxed the floors, and the basketball coach had tried to recruit me for my height. But team sports had never interested me.

  She stood up, giving me enough room to work but not really moving away.

  “You didn’t answer me,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Grace is with Mayson, doing―well, I don’t want to think about it. I was alone at the hotel, and I got hungry. I figured I’d walk downtown and grab something to eat.”

  She waved a hand around the room. “There’s no food here.”

  “No, but I saw the light. Figured somebody had to be doing more work. I had a hunch it was you, and your Brady-mobile confirmed it.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Looks like I arrived at the right time, though. That guy kind of creeps me out. How did you even stand him holding on to you like that?”

  “He’s never been that way before.” She shrugged, and I could tell from her expression it grossed her out as well. “I’m not sure what’s changed.”

  I guffawed.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Have you looked in a mirror lately?” My words brought a new blush to her cheeks that I could see, even in the dim light. It was like an addiction, I realized, the desire to see the color there.

  “Pshh. I’m young enough to be his daughter,” she responded, as I got up and plugged the machine in.

  “You know that doesn’t bother some people, right? I mean, look at all those seventy-year-old actors having babies by women who are, like, four decades younger than them.”

  She shuddered.

  “This machine is twice as heavy as the one I used to use. How the hell did you get it up the stairs?” I asked.

  “You keep underestimating me,” she retorted.

  Grace hated it when people underestimated her, too. She was little but strong, just like my aunt, PJ. Maybe it was the fact Ginny had two or three times the curves my cousin and aunt did, which had thrown me off. She wasn’t anywhere near fat, but her body hadn’t screamed athlete either.

  “You’re right. I’ve made assumptions I shouldn’t have. Let’s start again.”

  I reached out my hand, and she just stared at it.

  “I’m Cole. I’m an imbecile who’s trying to become a screenwriter slash movie producer. I like surfing and parkour. I graduated from UCLA’s film program, and while I’m waiting for my first movie to be made, I’m working at my dad’s gym.”

  I didn’t say any of it to brag. I wasn’t trying to show off. I was just stating the facts.

  She finally took my hand, and the smooth feel of her fingers and palm against mine had me longing to pull gently so her entire body was tucked up against me. I fought the urge while she shook my hand and let go.

  “I’m Ginny. I’m named after a character in a book. I’m in my junior year as a business major at UTK, and my only plans are to come back home and help my mama run the car dealership. Besides books, my only other obsession is Krav Maga, hence the ability to bring the polisher up the stairs.”

  “Krav Maga, huh?” I said, ignoring the whole named-after-a-character-in-a-book comment, because thinking of her as Ginny Weasley was the first thing that had caused my body to react to her. I wasn’t sure I could talk about it without giving myself away.

  She nodded. “I used to work out with Ty when we were in high school. It was the one thing―the one place―where we still got along.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t imagine anyone getting along with your brother.”

  She nodded. “Most people think that because he wears his egotistical jock attitude darn well. What it really does is hide what goes on inside his head and his need to help everyone. He’s been there for Eliza and me, and all our cousins, in more ways than we can count. Plus, this whole town kind of sees him as the second coming of our dead uncle, so he’s had to shoulder a lot of expectations.”

  “Second coming of a dead uncle, huh? Is this the one the stadium is named after?”

  She nodded. “How’d you know about that?”

  “Grace. She’s pretty much a sister to me. She’s told me about every trip she’s ever made to Tennessee.”

  “But this is your first trip?” Ginny asked.

  I nodded and turned the machine on. It was loud, obnoxiously so, and it made it impossible to talk, but she came up next
to me, hand on my arm, and shouted. “You don’t have to do this.”

  My eyes settled into her multi-colored ones, and I turned the machine back off.

  “I’ll make you a deal.”

  She didn’t respond, but her eyes journeyed to my lips and then back to my eyes, and I had to fight to keep from tossing the machine aside and kissing the hell out of her. She didn’t respond, and I kept going.

  “I’ll do the floors, and you can do one thing for me.”

  “One thing?”

  “You give me that kiss I dared you to give me.”

  I thought maybe she’d stopped breathing, but then it whooshed out of her with that heavenly maple scent I’d experienced the day before.

  “How about I buy you the meal you came downtown for?” she offered.

  I was already shaking my head before she finished the words. “No, I can more than afford my own dinner, but I’m not sure I can afford to leave Tennessee without knowing what those sweet lips feel like against mine.”

  The blush coated her cheeks again.

  She backed away from me. “I think maybe I need to do the floors myself. I’d already planned on doing them. I didn’t ask you to take over.”

  It was a fast ramble of words. I’d made her nervous and instantly regretted it.

  “You’re right. You didn’t. Let’s just say I’ll do it in hopes that I’ll get to experience those lips before I leave Tennessee.”

  I turned the machine back on and got to work.

  While I was doing the floors, Ginny got a ladder and started stringing lights. As I took over more of the floor, she was limited to a smaller and smaller space. Eventually, she had to give up. She sat cross-legged with her back against the door and her phone out. She was reading. I could tell from the way her eyes sped along and the way her thumb flicked the screen.

  As I finished the last section, it brought me right to her feet.

  She got up, opened the door, and stepped outside, shoving her hands into her coat as she went. I finished, yanked the cord from the wall, and pulled the polisher out onto the landing. Then, I ducked back in and pulled on my new coat that was still wet from the sleet that had fallen as I’d walked to town.