22
Owen
Anotification came into my phone, making it rattle on the glass conference table. I tried to force myself not to look at it. I'd set the notifications to let me know when Holly posted a picture on Instagram. But only because I wanted to know if she was doing any more buzz for my company.
My hand twitched. I tried to concentrate on the financial report Garrett was giving. He paused and glared at me.
“Go ahead and look at it. You clearly aren't going to pay attention until you do.”
“I don't—”
“Go ahead. We're waiting.”
I picked up the phone and swiped at the notification. A very suggestive picture came up. Holly was blowing a kiss for the camera, and two ofthe sugar cookieswere held up to the mounds of her breasts, which threatened to spill out of the bodice. The caption read:
I know you want to get your mittens on my cookies!
“Geez,” Walker said, looking over my shoulder. “Now I see why you were out in the middle of the night.”
“That's not—I have a puppy that I am now responsible for, thank you very much.”
I snuck another glance at the picture then set the phone down.
Walker was still looking at me. “Three, two, one,” he said.
“What?” Then it hit me. Holly hadn't just sent the picture to me, obviously—it was a social media account after all. But that meant thateveryone had seen it. I was suddenly, irrationally furious.
“And there it is.” Walker patted me on the shoulder. “We might as well call it quits, you guys. He's going to be stewing over Holly the rest of the day, poor big idiot.”
“I'm not an idiot. I can handle myself,” I snarled, shaking him off. “Go through the rest of the report, Garrett. Please.”
I was wound up tight through the rest of the meeting. I'd barely said ten words to Holly that weren't related to the bake-off or how much I despised Christmas. Why was I suddenly so possessive? It was irrational. I wasn't irrational; I thought deeply about things then made decisions and followed through decisively. I was the very definition of a cold, rational man.
Furthermore, Holly, with her Christmas excess and crazy outfits, was not the type of woman I had ever imagined myself being with.
It's the cookies. She put some sort of spell in them.
No, that would be crazy.
“Owen, so you're in agreement?” Greg asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Uh, yes, that sounds great.” I said, trying to look as if I'd been paying attention.
“Wonderful. I'll have my little brothers delivered to your house in the evening. I'm sure all of my half brothers will be looking forward to their six-week-long snowboarding retreat. Do be mindful. Several of the children have developed the rather unfortunate habit of throwing random items such as clothes, Rice Krispies treats, and once even a toaster out the window. While that's not much of an issue on a private estate, I hope your liability insurance covers people throwing things off your balcony.”
“Wait! I don't want to take all your little brothers!” I said, panicking slightly.
“Then pay attention and don't agree to things when you have no idea what's going on,” Hunter snapped.
“It's Holly,” Walker said sagely.
“Honestly,” Archer said from the corner, where he was playing games on his phone—how he ran a multibillion-dollar hotel conglomerate was beyond me—“You should have Holly come and organize all your fun workplace activities. That contest is based on employee surveys, right? So foster some good cheer and host a boozy party at two in the afternoon.”
“I can't just throw parties in the middle of the workday,” I protested.
“Of course not. That’s why you have Holly do it!”
*
