Holiday Intercepted
Katana Collins
Copyright © 2018 by Katana Collins
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by: Mae Phillips at coverfreshdesigns.com
Cover Photography by: Annie Ray at Passion Pages
Cover Model: Dillion Lalor at www.dillionlalor.com
Edited by: Marla Bazan
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
More from Maple Grove
Prologue
Excerpt from Healing You
Chapter One
Excerpt from Callback
Chapter One
Thank You
Other Books by Katana Collins
About Katana
1
Paige
I stood in the hallway of Maple Grove High School, staring into the glass case that houses dozens of trophies throughout the years. Pictures of team after team lined the case, behind each of their trophies. Our little school seemed to be a hotbed for several now-famous sports stars.
To a passerby, it would look like I was just admiring the school’s athletic prowess. And I’d utterly die if anyone found out what I was actually looking at.
Taylor Wilson. He was taking a knee in the 16x20 glossy picture, his helmet on the ground just beside his leg and he looked straight at the camera with a small smile. One might even call it a smirk. A banner stretched over top of his image, saying:
Maple Grove High School, Maple Grove, NH – Home of the New England Patriots Tight End Taylor Wilson.
Tight end. I snickered to myself because there couldn’t be a more appropriate position for our sexy alumnus. I hadn’t seen him in person in twelve years. Not since high school our high school graduation when he packed up his life and stormed out of mine.
I rolled my eyes in spite of myself and with a sigh, forced myself to look away from his image. He didn’t storm out of my life. He left the town. Because a lot of understandably bad memories had collected here for him. I didn’t know many people who would have stayed around after the senior year he had. He most certainly didn’t leave me. Because if I was being honest, he probably barely even remembered I existed. Sure, we’d known each other since we were children. He was my brother’s best friend since they were learning how to walk. Taylor, Cam & Steve Tripp, and my little brother, Scott were inseparable, despite the fact that Steve and Scott were a year younger than the rest of us. But he never saw me as anything more than the annoying, tag-along sister.
I gulped. At least, he didn’t until we shared a kiss our senior year when we were both starring in the musical, Guys and Dolls. It had shocked about everyone when he showed up at auditions. But teachers were doing everything they could to keep him from suspension, which would have resulted in losing his scholarship to Boston University—and that involved extra credit for auditioning to be in the school musical.
But other than that magical stage kiss we shared, he only had eyes for Tiffany. At least he did until she cheated on him with half the football team. I, on the other hand, never stopped thinking about Taylor. Not for the four years we were in high school together when I’d daydream about him while staring at his profile in class, or not even now as an adult. It didn’t help that I had to pass by his freaking 16x20 picture every day on my way to class.
A sigh slipped past my tight lips. How pathetic was I?
Though he only moved to Boston—about an hour away from our small New Hampshire town, he never came back. Not once. And while I knew there were a lot of reasons for this—the death of his mother, Tiffany cheating on him, his amazing scholarship to BU… I also knew the number one reason he never returned home was because of my mother.
Until now. Rumor had it, he was on his way back right this very second.
The buzz around Maple Grove was that he was arriving today and staying for one weekend just to go to Cam and Lydia’s engagement party tonight. He’d likely leave tomorrow.
I felt a light pinch on my upper arm and spun to find Kyra standing behind me, her brows arched intuitively. Dammit. I knew from the heat spreading to my cheeks and across my nose that I was blushing. She was the only person in the world who knew me well enough to know I was definitely not staring at our sports trophies. Not only were sports never my thing, but I’d been fighting tooth and nail to get our non-sport related trophies shown off in the same idolatrous fashion that the school tended to revere its football, cheerleading, and baseball teams.
Now that I was a teacher at Maple Grove High, my theater kids had placed first at state competitions three years in a row. But were our trophies in that case? Nope.
“Hey, you,” Kyra said, her eyes flitting from mine to the glass case, then back again.
I sighed and hugged my folders tighter against my chest as I tore my eyes away from Taylor’s picture. “Hey.”
But I wasn’t fooling anyone. Kyra’s gaze knowingly landed on the image of Taylor. “You ready for the final staff meeting of the year?”
I groaned. “The calendar year,” I corrected her and turned toward the library. We still had months to go until the actual school year was over.
“Even still,” Kyra said, her tight pencil skirt, high heels, and leopard print sweater making it so she had to take twice as many tiny, quick steps as I did. “After this, we have ten whole days off!” she squealed. “Vacation begins in roughly ninety minutes, starting tonight with Cam and Lydia’s party.”
Ninety minutes. I just needed to get through this staff meeting, and then I could relax.
Kyra leaned in, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Yvonne told me that Steve said he only finally RSVP’d ‘yes’ two days ago, and that was after Steve let him have it about what a shitty friend he’s been the last few years.”
I cleared my throat, looking through my notes for my trophy speech at today’s meeting. “Who?”
Kyra looked up at me through thickly painted lashes and rolled her eyes. “The man whose portrait you pretend not to stare at every time you pass it.”
“I don’t stare every time—”
“Aha!” Kyra pointed a white tipped fingernail in my face and I swatted at it. “So you admit you were staring?”
Damn. Note to self: espionage is not a good backup career to teaching theater. I wasn’t so good at the keeping secrets thing.
“Apparently,” Kyra continued, still whispering, “Taylor made Steve promise that Tiffany and Scott weren’t going to be anywhere near the party tonight.”
I cringed, pausing just outside the library where most of the teachers were milling about. “Well, I don’t know about Tiffany,” I whispered her name because out of the corner of my eye, I could see her standing on the other side of the library. She was just as beautiful now as she was back in high school. Sleek, dark brown hair with ends that always seemed to curl perfectly under, no matter if she was wearing it down or up in a ponytail. Razor sharp cheekbones, green wide-set eyes and a pouty, petal-p
ink mouth. “But Scott is definitely going to be around… even if he’s not at the party. His hotel is practically hosting the whole weekend for free.” My brother turned the Maple Grove Inn completely around when he bought it from the original owners. He hired Cam Tripp’s construction company to renovate it and gave it a much-needed facelift, then rebranded the Victorian hotel into one of Trip Advisor’s most sought out inns in New England. It helped revive our little town by bringing tourism back. “He even gave Cam and Lydia’s local friends a huge discount if they stay the night so that no one has to drive home after drinking.”
Kyra pointed at me. “You know that. And I know that… but Taylor doesn’t know that.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Oh no. “Please don’t tell me Cam and Steve have some stupid plan to get Taylor and Scott to talk—”
Kyra shrugged, cutting me off. “I can’t say for sure. All I know is that he specifically stated he wouldn’t come if either of them arrived. I also know he said nothing about not wanting to see you.”
“That just means he didn’t think enough of me to put me in the mix of his enemies.” I rolled my eyes. All I heard from that statement was that he didn’t mention me at all. “He probably doesn’t even remember me.”
She snorted. “You’re Scott’s half-sister. And you two shared the hottest stage kiss this school has ever seen. Of course he remembers you.”
I sighed. Even if that was true, it didn’t change the fact that I was not his type. He was all about the curvy brunettes. I was tall, gangly and blond. And not a pretty, shiny, platinum blond either. I was what my hair dresser called dirty blonde. And not in the sexy, I’m a dirty girl kind of way either. Like dirt. Dirt streaked in otherwise pretty blond hair. Bleh.
We made our way across the library and took a seat at one of the long tables. Kyra worked at the elementary school, but because Maple Grove was so small, our elementary, middle and high schools were all on the same plot of land, separated by long hallways that led to the three different buildings.
Tiffany, now the Maple Grove cheerleading coach and president of our booster club, stood up front with the principal. I chewed on my lip, intentionally suppressing the urge to roll my eyes at her. In one hand she held a medal, and an envelope in the other. She smiled wide, her gaze trailing around the room. “Hello, teachers and faculty! I wanted to kick off our final meeting of the year by announcing that our cheer team took fourth place at regionals this fall! Goooo Knights!” She straightened her arm, holding the medal high in the air.
Laura, the speech and debate teacher caught my eye from a few seats away and shook her head slightly. Her speech and debate team took home nine out of 12 first place trophies in October. All of those were relegated to the small glass case next to the detention hall where the rest of our “lesser” wins were shoved… away from the spotlight. Which was ironic, being a theater teacher. We thespians loved the spotlight.
There was some polite clapping, and a few cheers and whistles from the table up at the front. The table that mostly consisted of other coaches, jocks, and team spirit junkies. I never would've expected that over a decade later, I would be back in school with the same popular table taking up most of the attention.
Laura gave me an encouraging nod and Kyra squeezed my knee beneath the table. I stood up, clearing my throat and said, "Congratulations, Tiffany." I smiled as genuinely as I could manage. It was great that they placed at regionals. I wanted to celebrate our cheerleaders. I just also wanted them to celebrate us. "That's so wonderful and you and the team must be so proud." She beamed back at me. That's one thing I'll say for us as we've gotten older — even though we still tend to divide into our own sub groups, for the most part, we as adults are far kinder to each other than we ever were in high school.
"Thank you..." Her voice faded off and I watched her expression shifted into something uncertain.
Coach Bolton, the wrestling coach and our psychology teacher leaned over to her and whispered, "Paige. Her name is Paige."
Forget the fact that Tiffany and I went to high school together. Forget the fact that her ex-boyfriend and I shared a stage in our senior year production. A production that I know for a fact she came to see, because I watched as she and Taylor had a blowout fight in the parking lot after because of our stage kiss… even though they were already broken up. And even though she’d already been caught cheating on him.
I smirked at the memory. It was a good stage kiss. No, it was a good kiss. And even though I doubt Taylor gives me or that kiss a second thought, I don’t think he was acting during our kiss. I know I wasn't. It had taken us a while to perfect it with every rehearsal leading up to opening night being stiff and passionless. Opening night, I stormed into his dressing room and kissed him. Right there amidst the hanging racks of costumes and lighted mirrors, I kissed him. It was out of character for me, but I wasn’t used to being subpar on stage and I wasn’t about to let a privileged jock mess up my senior year performance. Because up until that night, our chemistry had been awkward. I swallowed, suppressing a shiver at the memory of kissing him.
Because it was good. Better than I had expected or ever wanted it to be.
But all that was ancient history. Tiffany was married, and not to Taylor. I kept my smile right where it was, plastered on my face although it was feeling less genuine by the second. “You're welcome. This also is a perfect segue into some of the accolades of our other extracurricular teams.” I gestured over to Laura. "For example, the speech and debate team won nine first-place trophies at state this year.” I spun, my eyes landing Mr. Rutherford, our math teacher. “The freshman math team won third place, and the varsity team won first, which sends them to Nationals in the spring.” I gestured to myself, “Lastly, our play won first place at the state level for the third year in a row, as well as two of our actors winning Best Actress and Best Supporting Actor.”
Tiffany’s smile dropped and I was suddenly grateful for my acting background because I hid my feelings much better than she did. The room clapped for us as Kyra pulled the trophies out of a cardboard box one by one and set them in front of me on the table. Tiffany clapped as well, but her grin turned brittle. She glanced briefly down at her fourth-place medal in her hands. “Congratulations, Ms. Williams,” she said.
Aha. She did remember me. She remembered me enough to even know my last name.
My grin widened. “Thank you. With so many first-place accolades, we were hoping that our students’ trophies could be displayed out front in the glass case near the entrance, rather than in the back by detention hall. It would do wonders to boost their confidence.”
Tiffany tilted her head to one side. “But you have your own case for your trophies. And they’re not just close to detention hall, they’re right next to your classrooms, where the students get to see them every day.”
I was ready for this. In our smaller meetings, it was always the reason that was given to me why we can't display our trophies out front. “Yes. And while we enjoy looking at our trophies, I also think it would behoove the school to see a well-rounded trophy case up front where everybody, all students and teachers, can celebrate our wins as well. Not just us celebrating us.” I glanced over at our principal, Mrs. Brannigan, sitting with her lips pushed out, her index fingers pressing against those lips, deep in thought. “Furthermore, as we are all learning more and more each year, colleges and scholarships are requiring more of students. They expect applicants to have more than just one focus. By celebrating all the wins, we are showing our students that we value all the extracurricular groups. And it's a more eclectic display for parent-teacher nights and when prospective students come to visit.”
Mrs. Brannigan stood up, pressing her fingers into the table. “I think Ms. Williams makes some very strong points.”
Tiffany’s smile was now entirely gone, and she didn't even try to hide it. "Unfortunately," Tiffany said, "there just isn't a lot of room left in that cabinet for more trophies." She gave a little shrug and attempted to change
the subject. "Now for the spring fundraiser —"
“Oh, I've already thought of that,” I said, interrupting her new train of thought. “We can move older trophies from previous years into classrooms, or the gymnasium. This way trophies are still displayed for the students, but the most recent trophies get celebrated by everybody in the school.”
“I think it's a great idea,” Mrs. Brannigan said.
“I do too,” Coach Bolton added. My gaze jerked to his. Well, that was a surprise. I’d always liked Coach Bolton. He was sweet and had kind eyes and always smiled at everyone.
Tiffany snapped her head to him, daggers shooting out of her eyes. He simply shrugged, not phased in the least by her. Frankly, most people weren't. Her tactics might've worked wonders in high school, but we weren’t in high school anymore. Okay, we were in high school, but we weren't high schoolers anymore.
“Great!” Mrs. Brannigan clapped her hands together, beaming. “Let's make time before the students come back from break to clear out the main trophy case and make room.”
Slowly, I sunk back in my chair, my knees shaking, but smiling from ear to ear. As Mrs. Brannigan spoke, I helped Kyra put the trophies back in the cardboard box beneath the table.
“Nice job,” she whispered to me.
“Yeah,” Laura whispered too, “maybe you should be coaching speech and debate team with me.”
I rolled my eyes as them, smiling to soften the sarcastic move. But inside? Inside I was doing a victory dance.
The meeting ended ninety minutes later and we all filed out the door in groups. Kyra shifted the box of trophies to her other hip grunting and I smiled at her, taking the box. “I’ve got this,” I said.
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