With the remaining frosting, Holly decorated most of the cookies, finishing up the last bell as Jack came out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his freshly washed hair. He didn’t have his sweater on anymore, but underneath he’d been wearing a soft gray T-shirt that highlighted the definition in his chest and arms.
She swallowed.
“Want me to stick this in the wash?” he asked.
She yanked her gaze up from his shirt. “Put it in the basket, and I’ll get to it later. Where’s your sweater?”
“I hung it up to dry in the bathroom.”
“I’ll wash it for you. Since I dumped the frosting on you and all.” She wished the words back the moment she’d said them. She’d planned to pretend nothing had happened.
He opened the closet near the kitchen that held her washer and dryer and tossed the towel in the basket. She held her breath as he turned and looked at the counter, taking in all the decorated cookies. “I don’t know how much value I added to this project.”
She let out a long breath. This was good. They’d both pretend nothing happened then. “The more rare something is, the more valuable.” She indicated the three cookies he’d decorated.
“Nice try.” He grabbed the holiday-themed paper plates and evenly distributed the cookies. “Are you up for delivering these tonight, or do you want to take a rain check?”
She bristled at the implication that there might be a reason she wouldn’t want to do this now. Especially since he didn’t seem at all affected by their moment, or whatever it was.
It wasn’t like her hormones had shriveled up and died along with Dallon—although it had felt like that for a long time. Attraction-like feelings didn’t mean anything needed to change. Jack didn’t believe in love. She’d already had hers. She wasn’t going to be like her dad and mistake attraction for love and open the drama floodgates.
So yes, they could deliver cookies like the two close friends they were.
“I’m up for it,” she said, overly casual, “but I understand if you want to bail.”
He met her gaze with a challenging stare. “I’m ready when you are.”
Was there a double meaning in his words? She narrowed her eyes at him, but he’d gone back to wrapping the plates in plastic wrap. She shook her head. No. She was being crazy. Maybe she was working too many hours. For the last couple years, she’d needed to work so much to keep her mind off of Dallon and going home to an empty house, but now, maybe she needed to cut back a bit, rest for the first time in a long time.
“Then let’s go.” She grabbed the camera, wincing when she realized it was still running. She was going to have to watch that footage later and try to find some usable scenes for the show that wouldn’t make people go berserk with #JollyForChristmas. That in itself would require a Christmas miracle.
Holly and Jack kept their conversation mostly superficial as they drove to the shelter, their almost-maybe kiss lingering in the car between them like a third person. At least for Holly. When silence descended on the car, Jack started whistling the Christmas song that had been playing in the air as they’d left her house, like not a single thing in the world was burrowing under his skin.
“I’ve already called ahead, so they’re expecting us,” Holly said. “I don’t want to do too much filming here. Just enough to hopefully inspire someone else to do it, but not so much that we’re violating anyone’s privacy.”
“Makes sense.” Jack grabbed a couple plates of cookies, and Holly grabbed a bag of new socks and undergarments she’d purchased for the shelter, items she’d learned they were always low on.
The director waited for them, and while Holly stepped aside to ask him a few questions on camera, Jack took the plates of cookies to various tables and offered them to the patrons. From the corner of her eye, she saw him pause at more than one table to shake someone’s hand or lean close as if listening.
For someone who claimed to hate people, he sure put on a good act of liking them sometimes. She knew him well enough to know the act was real than fake, but she wondered if he’d realized that too.
“What kind of donations do you need most at this time of year?” she asked the director, hoping she didn’t sound as distracted as she felt.
“Coats, undergarments, and socks are always the top items we need. It’s tough to be homeless any time of year, but when the temperatures drop below zero, it can be dangerous.”
“Thank you. Do you mind if I get some wide shots of Jack with some residents? And then we’ll get out of your hair.”
“Stay as long as you need,” he responded.
She turned the phone and got some footage of Jack chatting at a table with some men who each had a cookie in their hand. She started to head in his direction when her phone rang. The hospital. She pulled it out to answer. “Dr. Whitacre.”
“This is Pam in Emergency. We have one of your patients here. Francis Hendrickson. Dr. Patel is with him now, but his wife is asking for you.”
“What’s going on?” Holly felt herself shift from MyHeartChannel mode to doctor mode in an instant. Jack, probably sensing the change in tone, looked up at her, then made his way in her direction.
“His wife called 911, and when emergency responders arrived, he was responsive but in a lot of pain. Dr. Patel suspects a blocked coronary artery, and they’re prepping Francis for surgery now.”
Holly started to head to the door, waving for Jack to follow. “I’m on my way.”
“The hospital.” Jack didn’t even have to ask; he knew.
“Thank you,” she called to the director again, and they headed back out into the cold. She’d hoped to have some time to chat with a few people, but she felt the urge to get to the hospital quickly.
“Want me to drop you off?” Jack asked.
She shook her head. “I want to grab my computer and extra bag from home.” She drove quickly, her thoughts on what might be going on with Francis, while Jack stared out the window.
“Call me if you need anything,” Jack said once they’d arrived at her house. She hopped out of the car, waving at him, before rushing inside, grabbing her things, and heading back out. To her relief—and yes, disappointment—when she came outside, Jack was already gone.
Chapter 20
Holly walked into Francis’s hospital room post-surgery, still decked out in her scrubs. Since she’d been at the hospital anyway, she’d spent the rest of the early morning hours checking on a few other patients who had been admitted.
Weariness didn’t tug at her yet—post-surgery adrenaline was usually a high she could run on for a few hours—but she knew that was coming later that afternoon. She had the day off, technically, so once she got her episode uploaded, she could crawl into bed and sleep the rest of the day away.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Holly said quietly to Francis after walking into his room and finding him awake. His faithful wife slept with her head slumped against the back of her chair. An ICU nurse sat beside his bed, monitoring his progress.
Francis attempted a weak laugh. “Believe me, I’d be happy to never have to meet you this way again.”
Holly glanced at the monitors. “How are you feeling?”
“Awful,” he said. “But better than I felt last night.”
“Good.” She listened to a few things, checked the chest tube for drainage, and pulled the blanket back up over him. “Dr. Patel will be in to check on you in a couple of hours,” she told him.
“Wait,” he said, before she could leave. “We need to do our interview for One Great Love Story.”
“Now?” she asked, surprised. Neither of them was in any condition to film an episode for her show.
“I don’t know how much time I’ve got left.” He said this last part quietly, his eyes shifting to his wife as if he wanted to spare her this truth. “This is my second heart attack in nearly as many weeks.”
Holly wanted to assure him he’d live a long and healthy life after these two surgeries, but she knew bet
ter than to make any promises like that. She wasn’t God. She couldn’t know what the future had in store for him, although she absolutely believed these surgeries bought him at least a few more years to be around with his family. “Once you’re out of the Cardiac ICU,” she said.
“What if I don’t leave the ICU?” he persisted.
She let out a long breath. “You will,” she said, looking at him sternly. “I’ll come back and check on you tomorrow.”
“Bring your camera,” he insisted.
She put her hands on her hips. “Put that determination toward feeling better and you won’t have any problems at all.”
“Please,” he said.
She paused, taking him in: the way his wrinkles sat like folds over his prominent cheekbones, how the skin on his hands stretched over the knobby bones of his joints, and how even with tubes and monitors, and draining fluids, he and his wife still linked fingers at his bedside. Unexpectedly, her thoughts flashed to Dallon, and how she’d held his still hand after his accident, falling asleep with her head against his bed, and waking up more often than not with creases from blankets on her cheeks to find Jack sitting across from her at Dallon’s other side.
“Okay,” she said. “I will.”
He nodded his head in thanks.
* * *
Instead of editing right when she got home, Holly fell into bed in a heap and slept almost eight hours. When she awoke, the sun was starting to set and she had a missed call from Jack.
She swung her feet out of bed and called him back while she went into the kitchen to boil some water for peppermint tea. The frosting dishes from yesterday still sat on the counter and sink, bringing to mind their moment right here in the kitchen.
“Everything okay?” Jack asked by way of greeting.
“I’m fine. Just woke up,” she said, hearing the sleep in her voice. “Going to edit.”
“I’ll let you go, then.” He hung up without a goodbye, and Holly smiled at the moment of normalcy. That was the Jack she knew. Straight to the point, no wasting time with niceties.
She set the bowls in the sink to soak, poured her tea, grabbed a sleeve of crackers, and went into the front room to work on her edits. Generally, she’d posted her videos by now, but she didn’t have a set time she promised to post, only set days.
Her inbox flashed with about a million new emails, and she set about changing the wording on her MyHeartChannel landing page to say that as much as she’d love to individually respond to every person, she couldn’t, but she appreciated every single message she got.
Well, most of them. The explicit pictures she could do without. And the #JollyForChristmas supporters. But everything else.
She uploaded the video from her phone to her computer and put it into her editing software. She’d gotten a lot better at this over the last couple of years. At first, she did all of her interviews with one take so she didn’t have to edit at all, but after a few months, she’d enrolled in a video editing class at the community college and had since taken several. It definitely gave her a lot more freedom in her filming and lowered the stakes quite a bit that demanded she get everything right the first time.
She grabbed a notebook and jotted down a bullet-pointed list of things she definitely wanted in the video: Jack opening up about his love history. Holly explaining that Georgia wasn’t coming. Some cookie decorating. And then a hard cut to the homeless shelter. She’d overlay it all with the text of #seethegood and link Talia’s show in the show notes. She’d make sure that every frame showed Jack in the very best light, while minimizing whatever chemistry people thought they saw between them.
She opened up the file and started cutting right at the beginning when there was a knock at the door. She peered through the peephole to see Jack standing there with a bag in his hand.
She opened it. “Jack, I’m working.”
“But have you eaten?”
“Yes,” she said.
He peered over her shoulder, and his eyes narrowed on the half-sleeve of crackers.
She stepped to the side to block his view. “I’ll eat when I’m done editing.”
“Here.” He handed her the bag, and she took it reluctantly, their hands brushing as she did. A tingling started in her fingertips before spreading warmth up her arm.
“How much of our friendship is you feeding me?”
“At least seventy-five percent,” he said, clearly unaffected by their accidental touch.
She shook her head to clear it. “And the other twenty-five?”
“Me mocking what you’re eating.”
“Ah.” She didn’t want to smile, but she couldn’t help it. Jack always had a way of getting past her defenses. “I’d invite you in, but I can’t get distracted.”
“I’m heading into the hospital.”
Her brows furrowed. She knew his shift; he wasn’t on tonight.
“I traded with Dr. Morgen,” he explained. “I finally convinced Rebecca to let me have Shiloh again, and she said I could have her tomorrow night.”
“Generous of her,” Holly said sarcastically.
“I’ll take what I can get.” He backed away, flakes of snow frosting his shoulders, his hair, and even his dark eyelashes. “Talk later?”
“Yeah.” She watched him walk down the stairs, absently appreciating his lean, muscled form, especially in the jeans he wore. He turned to wave one last time, and her cheeks heated up at getting caught checking him out.
He smirked, and she swiveled on her heel and shut the door.
* * *
The show aired, and just as Holly suspected, she had a million emails with the subject line #JollyForChristmas. And if her email was bad, Instagram was a minefield she didn’t even want to step into. Chance, from the MyHeartChannel show Take a Chance, had even tagged her on Instagram and said, My vote is definitely for #JollyForChristmas.
Holly let out a groan and set her phone face-down on her desk.
What she needed was a plan. She wanted to find love for Jack, but her viewers were getting diverted by this #JollyForChristmas business. She needed to get them back on board with the original plan.
She picked up her phone, carefully avoiding her emails and Instagram tags, and went into her text messages. She scrolled until she found the name she was looking for.
Holly: Hey, are you back in town? Would you still be interested in getting set up with Jack?
It only took a few minutes for Megan to reply. YES!! When?
Holly: Tuesday?
Holly had to work, but Jack had the day off, and she could meet them at the venue.
Megan: Perfect.
Perfect. Holly pulled out her notebook and started to plan the most romantic date possible—the kind of date destined to make two people fall completely head over heels in love.
Chapter 21
Holly grabbed her phone after her shift and headed into Francis’s hospital room, reluctant to film him so soon after surgery.
“Wait, Dr. Whitacre!” Holly stopped in the doorway of the office to see one of her assistants flagging her down with a notebook. “Aren’t we going to meet about the Christmas party?”
Holly had completely forgotten, which wasn’t like her. She had so much on her mind lately, with the MyHeartChannel show and all the facets of it. More so than usual. “Sure. Glad you caught me.”
She turned around and went into the break room, where two other people were already set up. Her heart filled with gratitude at all of the help they were giving her for this Christmas dinner. Especially with it coming so quickly. Even more than the party, she dreaded the anniversary of that day every second it ticked closer.
“Okay, how are things going?” she asked, trying to put her mind into planning mode.
“We received about 250 RSVPs before the cutoff date, and we’ve turned the numbers into the hotel catering,” Peter said, looking at the notebook in front of him.
“We’re going with a blue-and-silver color scheme, and the hotel has helped us get that
set up,” Jillian piped in.
“And I’m working on ordering all of the name tags and the gift bags we’re going to hand out,” Peter continued.
Holly sat back in her chair, relieved. “You guys are amazing. Thank you.”
“The hotel has done most of it,” Jillian said.
“But you’ve organized it and made sure it was all happening.” A thought struck her suddenly. “I have three tickets to see A Christmas Carol in Denver on Christmas Eve. Would either of you like them?”
Peter and Jillian looked at each other. “I’ll be at my in-laws’ house for a Christmas Eve party,” she said.
Peter’s eyes lit up. “I’ll take them, then. I bet my wife and daughter would love to see it.”
Relief filled Holly. She’d been sitting on those tickets for too long. “I’ll email them to you tonight.”
She went to stand, but Peter stopped her. “There’s one more kind of small thing.”
“Kind of big thing,” Jillian interjected.
Holly’s heart thumped. “What?”
“Christmas trees. We need about thirty of them by Friday.”
“Thirty?” Holly sat back in the chair. “Okay, can the hotel take care of it?”
Peter shook his head. “They can’t. And Jill and I have our plates full with other things. We were hoping you’d be able to take it on?”
His voice faded with hesitation at the end, and she wondered what look she was giving him. Probably one of dread. She tried to smile. “Okay.” They’d done almost everything. She could run down to a Christmas tree lot in her neighborhood and figure out how to get a bunch of trees to the party.
“Thank you,” Peter said, looking relieved. “Both of us have family things going on this week, and it’ll take a lot off our plate.”
Holly shook her head, feeling ashamed that she’d dumped all of this on them in the first place. Their Christmas bonus needed to be more generous than she’d planned, for sure. “No, you’ve both done so much. I don’t mind doing this part.” Getting trees wasn’t going to be a big deal as long as she didn’t make it one.
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