“Why don’t you wake her up and tell her?” Jacob asked.
Nick exchanged a glance with Lux. “Christmas Magic is kind of secret. I mean, the whole world knows about Santa and all that, but the truth–I mean, we can’t exactly start a YouTube channel and broadcast this stuff, if you know what I mean.”
“You can’t tell Lauren,” Lux jumped in, “The fewer people who know about this, the less damage control we have to do.”
“So she won’t know that the day repeats?” he clarified.
“No. And feel free to use that to your advantage,” Nick added. He snapped his fingers. “What if we used our other skills to help too?”
“Like what?” Lux considered his question with interest.
“Like we… drop him in her bedroom, and he kisses her, and sparks fly, and we’re done here.”
Jacob snorted. “Sparks? More like a restraining order. Lauren hates me.”
“Why?” asked Lux, her big eyes full of curiosity.
“That is an excellent question.” He lifted his shoulders. “One day, we were best friends, and the next, she refused to talk to me.”
“Then that’s where you should start.” She smiled. “Find out why she hates you–undo the damage–kiss her under the mistletoe and,” she snapped her fingers, “we’re back on track.”
“So simple,” he said dryly.
Nick shoved off the wall. “If you need me, call.” He set a business card on the nightstand. “You’re on a very short list of people who have that number–don’t abuse it.”
Jacob eyed it wearily. “You have a cell phone?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Nick tossed back. He went to stand next to Lux by the chimney. Jacob reached for the card that had an embossed star on one side.
Poof!
They were gone. Jacob rubbed his eyes and stared at the spot they were just standing. He checked the clock: 12:04 a.m.
“I’m losing my mind.” He climbed under the covers and rolled over. “I don’t know who's crazier–them or me.” He scoffed. “Like Lauren Hall would fall in love with me.” He let out a breath.
He threw the covers over his head and vowed not to talk to himself or anyone else that poofed into his room for the rest of the night.
CHAPTER9
Lauren groaned happily as she stretched her arms above her head and pushed her feet out to the very corners of the mattress. The winter sunlight filtered through her curtains, and this sense of a new day bubbled up inside of her.
What an absolutely beautiful Christmas Eve proposal! She was officially a fiance and pledged to marry a wonderful man.
She put her left hand out in front of her and squinted to look at her ring, only to find her finger bare. Oh gosh, where was the ring?
Flipping over onto her hands and knees, she ran her hands over the soft cotton sheets, searching. Surely it wouldn’t have gone far. Despite the rubber enlargement tube, it must have fallen off during the night.
When she couldn’t feel it, she scrambled to the side of the bed and yanked the blanket off. She stared at the mattress. Nothing. Oh no! Her heart sank, and she sank to her knees. In desperation, she dove under the bed and ran her hands over the carpet. “Please. Please. Please,” she begged and pleaded with the ring to appear.
Nothing. Next, she crawled around the entire room. “Wait!” She walked on her knees to the nightstand and tore the drawer open. Empty. She searched around it with her eyes and her hands.
“Okay. Don’t panic,” she admonished herself. When was the last time she’d seen it? She closed her eyes and allowed her memory to surface. “Bathroom!” she shouted, hopping to her feet and careening down the hall.
In the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror. What a sight! Her hair was messy, and she had mascara circles under her eyes. “So I didn’t wash my face last night,” she muttered. Her eyes dropped away from the creature in the mirror and landed on the drain. “Please, no.” She ran her finger under the stopper, determining it was too narrow of space for the ring to fit through. Thank goodness Foster had bought the enormous diamond.
But if it wasn’t here, then where was it? She drew in a breath and commanded herself to think. If she left the ring on the counter, Mom would have taken it for safekeeping. Maybe put it in her jewelry box or something.
Lauren burst out of the bathroom, ready to comb the kitchen in case she’d sleepwalked last night and eaten cookies or something. She didn’t sleepwalk and never ate past eight, but she’d moved past the realm of possibilities and considered the impossible.
