I forced a smile. “Well, looks like your brilliant plan didn’t work for all of us, Bree.”
I glanced down at the strange arrangements of food boards, reached for a Ritz cracker, then a piece of ham and cheese, and put it all in my mouth.
Arabella wrapped her arm around me, and I lay my head on her shoulder.
Bree reached across the island and took my hand. “I saw the way he looked at you, Abby. He’s still in love with you. It was the same way Hunter looked at Arabella. You both might not see what the rest of us see so clearly, but those two guys are head over heels in love with you both. I mean, they don’t love both of you. One loves you and the other loves you.”
Arabella shook her head and laughed softly. I wasn’t sure if it was out of habit or if she couldn’t allow herself to hope that Hunter might still have feelings for her.
I went to open my mouth—and then heard a familiar sound.
Bree’s brows rose slowly. “Whose phone was that?”
Swallowing hard, I remained silent.
“It was Abby’s,” Greer whispered.
“Where’s your phone, Abby?” Bree asked.
I blinked rapidly. “Um…” Glancing around, I snapped my head back to Bree. “I don’t know.”
“Oh my God! Ping it!” Candace yelled, jumping off her stool.
“Ping it?” I asked, confused.
“Your Apple watch!” Greer pointed so quickly she knocked over two of the green hangover mixes.
Arabella grabbed my arm and shook me. “What does your watch say?”
I lifted my wrist and saw the red dot. My heart started to pound. “It’s a notification.”
“From who?” five voices asked.
I swept the notification down and saw Bishop’s name. I gasped and took a few steps back as my eyes met Bree’s.
A wide smile erupted on her face as she singsonged, “I told you!”
My phone went off again, and like a herd of panicked deer, we all rushed toward the sound.
“Why are we running to find her phone?” Willa yelled while we all searched the formal dining room. “You can read it on your watch.”
“No!” Bree shouted. “It won’t be the same.”
“Ping it, Abby!” Greer yelled.
“Oh, right!” I hit the little thing to ping my phone. Everyone went still—until we heard the familiar sound of ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.
“It’s over there!” Candace yelled, diving under the dining room table.
“That was impressive. Was she a cheerleader before?” Willa asked.
“I found it!” Candace climbed out from under the table and rushed over to me.
I fumbled the phone in my hands until I righted it. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and then opened them. Then I laughed my ass off.
“What’s so funny?” Bree asked.
“The five of you standing there staring at me. It’s just…funny.”
Candace thrust her finger at me. “Open the message!”
“Right, right,” I said as I opened up the text from Bishop.
My eyes instantly burned when I read it. I took a few steps back again, only to have Bree wrap her arm around my waist to steady me.
“What does it say?” Arabella asked in a worried voice.
I tried to speak, but nothing would come out. Bree gently took my phone from my hands and read the text message. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up and read it out loud. “He said, ‘I should have kissed you tonight.’”
Gasps filled the room.
Then I did the one thing I swore I would stop doing. I covered my face with my hands, sank to the floor with Bree by my side, and cried—but for once, they were tears of happiness.
“No, no, no, don’t cry, sweetie,” Bree said, kissing the top of my head. “Don’t cry.”
Before I knew it, the six of us were all sitting on the floor in Greer’s formal dining room. When I managed to get myself under control, Candace made us all laugh by telling a story about how she had once been caught kissing a boy in the confessional booth at church during mass.
Over the next few hours, we somehow drank all the green hangover shots and ate all the crackers and cheese—including the shredded cheese—while laughing until our stomachs hurt.
“I have to go to bed, you guys, I’m exhausted,” Willa said as Bree finally helped her to stand up.
I started to clean the mess we’d made, but Greer told me to stop. “Just leave it. We can get it in the morning.”
Nodding, I followed everyone up the steps. Yawning, I said, “I’m crawling right into bed.”
“After you take off your makeup, right?” Candace asked.
I waved her off. “I’ll just wash in the morning.”
Candace stopped, causing me to bump into her. “What!? You did not just say that.”
“She did, I heard it,” Bree said.
Looking around at all of us, Candace asked, “Do none of you prepare for bed?”
Bree raised her hand. “I do.”
Arabella tilted her head. “By prepare, do you mean get into pajamas and brush my teeth?”
A look of utter horror appeared on Candace’s face. “I get your lack of fashion sense, but your lack of skin care is disheartening.”
“Oh Lord,” Greer mumbled, before she turned and headed up to her bedroom. “Sorry, ladies, I’ve heard this lecture before. I’m off to bed!”
Willa watched Greer with a longing expression as she disappeared up the steps. It was clear she was exhausted. I moved closer to her and whispered in her ear, “I’ll cause a distraction so you can slip into your room.”
Willa gave me a quick hug, or attempted to—her belly got in the way. “I’ll owe you big time, Abby!”
I jumped into action. “Candace, will you show us your bedtime routine?”
Arabella’s head snapped toward me, and I could feel her angry stare boring into me. I’d explain later that I had to sacrifice us for Willa’s sake.
“Yes! Yes, I will. Follow me, ladies.”
As we headed toward Candace’s room, Willa slipped into her room. A soft click and then the turn of the lock made me smile. When I glanced at Arabella, she frowned.
“I had to, she was exhausted.”
Crossing her arms over her body, Arabella rolled her eyes.
“Now, in my bag, I have all the essentials.” Candace pulled out a face mask, a mister bottle, and a jar of something she called her ‘most precious item’. She took out a scarf next, followed by face wash and another jar.
“Now, first step is to wash your face, ladies. Then, you need this.” She picked up one of the jars. “A good night cream. We always—always—take the time to wash and moisturize our face both morning and night.”
Candace reached for another bottle in her bag.
“Next, I put this lotion on my entire body to infuse moisture into my skin. It works overnight and when I wake up, my skin is as soft as a baby’s bum. Our bodies are like delicate plants, ladies. We must water them.”
Arabella leaned closer to me and whispered, “This is like the best and worst moment of my life.”
I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Now, I need to take a few extra steps with these curls of mine. I put this in—” She held up a jar. “It’s my sweet almond oil blend.”
“You put that in your hair?” I asked.
Candace nodded. “I have to. My hair is dry, and I need moisture. I work it through my curls, then I’ll wrap this scarf around my hair for the night. When I wake up, I take the scarf off, shake out my curls, mist with water and finger-comb.”
Candace clapped her hands and pointed to the bathroom. “Go in my bathroom and wash your faces. Then we’re night-creaming you all up!”
The four of us spent the next hour and a half talking, laughing, and learning all about self-care. There was no doubt in my mind that I had needed this night, and now I owed Greer bigtime.
The next morning when I woke up, I felt refreshed, renewe
d, and most of all…hopeful.
Bishop
I took Hudson out for another tour of the farm after we woke up. He asked a few questions about the types of trees we grew at Wonderland and other things he needed to understand before he started his new book. I told him we plant the seedlings in the spring and that they’re normally four to five years old when they’re planted; and how it took anywhere from four to fifteen years for a tree to grow six to seven feet in height. I had to admit, it was kind of cool having Hudson write a main character who owned a Christmas tree farm.
I kicked the snow off my boots and walked into the back door of my house, with Hudson following. “Coffee?” I asked as I took off my coat and hung it over one of the chairs in the breakfast nook.
“No, thanks, I’ve already had two cups. I just got a text from Greer. The house is cleared and I’m free to head home.”
Leaning against the counter, I said, “I have to say, when we walked into that house last night, I wasn’t expecting to see what we saw.”
Hudson raised his brows. “You’re telling me. I’m not sure what I should be more worried about: Willa twerking in a half T-shirt and short-shorts, or Greer dancing with a book and talking to Mr. Darcy.”
I couldn’t help it. I lost it laughing. Hudson smiled and shrugged as he reached for his duffle bag and tossed it over his shoulder.
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I stated, “Christ Almighty, I swear. Women are going to drive me to an early grave.”
Hudson nodded and packed the notebook he’d been using into his laptop bag. “That they will, but the ride will be fun as hell.”
My smile faded slightly as I thought to myself, Not always.
“Thanks for letting me crash at your place last night,” Hudson said.
“You bet, anytime.”
I walked with him out of the house and to his car. He put everything into the backseat, then reached for my hand. “Thanks again, dude. I’ll see you Thanksgiving night.”
“See you then. Enjoy your Thanksgiving.”
He slid into the car and called out, “You too!” He started his vehicle and headed down the driveway. Ken drove up at the same time, passing Hudson and parking his truck. He got out and made his way over to me.
“How’s everything looking for Friday?” I asked, motioning for him to come in before I froze my ass off.
Ken stomped his feet to get the little bit of snow off before he walked into the house. “It’s looking good.” He took off his coat and hung it on the coatrack. “They delivered the rest of the supplies for the wreath-making. If it’s as popular as it was last year, hopefully we’ll run out again.”
I smiled. My mother had come up with the idea of having a small craft/classroom area off to the side in the main barn where the shop was located. It was an empty room that we had mostly been using for storage, so the idea of using it for something else had intrigued me. I never expected the wreath-making classes to be so popular.
“You did see where I set some stuff aside for Thursday night, right?” I asked.
He nodded. “I saw.”
“You and the wife gonna be able to make it?”
“Nah, I wish we could, but we’re leaving early for Boston to see Jen’s folks. My parents drew Christmas this year, so thankfully we don’t have to try and juggle Thanksgiving between Boggy Creek and Boston.”
Laughing, I took a sip of my coffee. “Yeah, I remember the days of having to go see both sets of parents. This year, my mom and dad decided to head to New York.”
“Good for them,” Ken said. “I may do that next year—see the parade and all.”
I decided to get back to business. “Okay, opening day. We’ve got two guys doing the parking?”
Ken nodded.
“Bryce is going to handle baling the trees and loading the cars. I’ll help with that.”
“Figured as much,” Ken replied. He knew I liked seeing the looks on people’s faces when they saw their trees tied up and ready to take home to decorate. It was one of the reasons I loved Christmas tree farming so much.
“Is Noah going to be able to drive the tractor and trailer, since we’re cutting mostly from the upper hills? Some folks won’t want to make that long walk.”
“He was here late yesterday afternoon going over the path you want him to take, to make sure he had it down.”
Ken started talking about the number of people we should let in to keep it from being overcrowded, who would work the main gate, who was set to cut down trees if people didn’t want to cut their own, and who would keep up with all the supplies for s’mores and such. I rubbed at the back of my neck as my mind started to drift off. Every now and then I threw in a, “Good. That’s great. Sounds good.”
No matter how hard I tried, I could not get the image of Abby from last night out of my mind. That outfit. Her body. The way she’d felt in my arms. How she’d whispered my name and looked at me. The way we’d almost kissed…
“Bishop?”
Ken’s questioning tone brought me back to the moment. “Yeah?”
He chuckled. “You back now, dude?”
“Sorry,” I sighed. “My mind is on other things, I guess.”
“No worries. Just know everything’s taken care of for Friday. This isn’t our first time.”
“Thanks, Ken, I appreciate it. I know I haven’t been as present as I should be.”
He hit me on the side of the arm. “Nonsense, boss. It’s all good.”
“I’m going to run into town and pick up a few things. I thought I had a potpie for Thanksgiving, but it turns out I don’t.”
Ken frowned. “I’m surprised you’re not going to eat with the Larsons.”
Kyle’s folks had invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner the past two years. My folks liked to eat in the late morning, and Kyle’s family ate around five, so it had been the perfect setup. Plus, it kept me from coming back to this giant house all alone until everyone came over at night. The thought of being the only person in this house on a holiday wasn’t something I usually looked forward to.
But this year was different. “Nah, I need the time alone.” A little bit of alone time would give me a chance to just stop and think for a bit.
Ken gave me a knowing look. “I get it. If you feel like we’re ready for Friday, I’m going to head on down to the barn and finish up some stuff, check on the shop, and then head out.”
“Don’t worry about the shop. I’ll be there later. Just go and enjoy the next two days off before all hell breaks loose.”
“Trust me, I intend on enjoying every moment I can. Life’s too short not to enjoy the happy times.”
I slapped Ken on the back and walked him to the door. After I shut it behind him, an idea came over me…and I headed to find my phone before I could change my mind.
Abby
Arabella and I stood in the small living room of the rental I had an appointment to look at today. Trying to get in and see a rental the day before Thanksgiving hadn’t been easy. Not to mention the massive headache I was still nursing from last night. It was making it hard to even think. I had woken up feeling pretty good, only to have the hangover hit me like a damn Mack truck around nine a.m.
The agent went on and on about all the features of the tiny historical house. From the look on Arabella’s face, her head was pounding as hard as mine.
“They’re open to doing a month-to-month lease for you,” the agent said.
I looked around the living room, then made my way into the kitchen. It wasn’t too terribly small, and it was for sure bigger than the tiny kitchen I had in Boston. The white cabinets gave it a light and airy feel.
Original wood floors ran all through the two-bedroom, one-bath house. The walls were painted a soft yellow, making the hardwood trim stand out.
“Do you like it?” Arabella asked.
Doing another circle in the middle of the kitchen, I shrugged. “It’s close to the farm, and I wouldn’t be living with my folks. Yeah. I like it.”
Arabella walked over to me and smiled. “It’s cute. And if you decide you want something bigger, you’re not locked into a long lease.”
I drew in a deep breath. “True.”
My phone rang just as I turned to the agent to tell her I’d take it. Since my cell was in my hand, I immediately looked to see who was calling.
Bishop.
My heart dropped to my stomach.
Arabella squeezed my arm. “Take it, Abby.”
“Um, will you excuse me one moment while I take this call?” I asked the agent, who motioned for me to go ahead. Looking at Arabella, I whispered, “What do you think he wants?”
She smiled and shrugged.
With a shaking hand, I answered. “Hello?”
“Abs…um…Abby. Hi.”
A wild flutter started in my chest as I fought to speak normally. “Hi, Bishop.”
He cleared his throat. “I was wondering…you’re coming over and everything tomorrow to talk, and since I’m going to be here alone…I thought maybe we could eat together. Thanksgiving. Eat for Thanksgiving, together. You and me. I’ll take care of most of it—the food, I mean. I’ll take care of the food, and it won’t just be turkey potpie, I’ll have real food. And pie. I like pie.”
He stopped babbling and let out a nervous laugh, and I couldn’t help but smile as I lifted my eyes to Arabella. She stood there with a hopeful expression on her face.
“I’d love to come over and eat,” I said. “Can I bring something?”
Arabella brought her hands to her mouth and started to frantically run in place. I waved for her to stop and turned away.
“Just maybe bring a side?” Bishop said. “Oh, and if your mom makes that homemade cranberry sauce tonight, can you bring some of that?”
“Sure,” I said, closing my eyes and praying I wasn’t dreaming. “What time do you want me to come over?”
“Early. I mean, maybe eleven. Unless that’s too early?”
I nearly tripped over my own tongue as I replied, “No, that’s not too early at all. I’ll be there at eleven.”
She's the One (Boggy Creek Valley Book 3) Page 16