Page 8 of 10 Things I Hate About Mistletoe

“Hey, now, Merry, don’t razz him too much. My boy keeps it tight,” Anthony joked.

Pike fluttered his lashes. “Thanks for noticing, Snoo—oof!”

A swift elbow to the stomach cut Pike off and made Anthony less tempted to strangle him for creating more stress and financial burden for their freshman business.

“Ant?” Merry clasped her hands in front of her. “You wouldn’t make a pregnant woman beg, would you?”

“You don’t play fair.” When she stuck her lip out in a pout, Anthony threw up his hand. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Thank God! My bachelor pool is running low with Clark and Nick off the market.”

It made sense, as most young people graduated high school and put Mistletoe in their rearview, whether for college or some other opportunity. The chances of them coming back were slim, too, especially without family still living in town. Most of the people who stayed behind got married before the age of thirty. Mistletoe wasn’t exactly a hot spot of activity for single people.

Despite his average height and red hair, Pike was funny with a larger-than-life personality, and women tripped over one another to be near him, which made Pike perfect for the event. Anthony had spent his life being more comfortable in the background than the center of attention, preferring team sports to school plays, and didn’t relish parading across the stage for the female population to scrutinize.

Merry flipped through the binder to the beginning and pulled out a piece of paper from the front pocket. “Here is the calendar schedule with the rehearsal and event dates.”

“Rehearsal? We’re not doing a choreographed dance like a Miss America Pageant, are we?” Anthony asked, taking the paper from her.

“No, but we want to interview you for the program, highlight your best skills and qualities. Plus, I don’t want you tripping over one another and creating a domino effect that results in injuries.”

Pike leaned over Anthony’s shoulder, looking at the paper with him.

“This is doable,” Pike said.

Anthony was not as enthusiastic, but he remained silent.

“I can email or text you the to-do list tonight for the winter games, whichever you prefer.”

“Email is fine,” Pike said, pulling out his wallet and handing her their business card.

“Look at you, being all professional. I’m so proud.” Merry pulled out her phone from her purse and studied the screen. “My next appointment will be here in five minutes, so if there’s nothing else, I’ll see you both for Thanksgiving?”

“I’ll be there,” Pike said. “My parents decided to visit my sister in Montana instead of feeding me, so I feel vulnerable and abandoned. Maybe you could pass that along to Sally?”

Merry’s eyes narrowed. “Sally is dating a doctor and has no interest in the man who told her she should look into a nose job!”

Anthony covered his mouth with his hand, smothering his laughter. He’d heard about Pike sticking his foot in his mouth with Sally, Pike’s ex-girlfriend and Merry’s best friend, more times than he could count and it never stopped being funny.

“That is not what I said!” Pike protested. “ I told her she should see if she had a deviated septum because she snored like a trucker. I like her nose!”

“The doctor likes everything about her,” Merry said, setting her mug down with a clatter, “including her snoring.”

Pike opened his mouth like he was going to defend himself more, but Anthony clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, “Pike, this is your chance to back out slowly before she hurts you.”

“Good advice,” Merry said dryly.

“Alright, fine.” Pike pushed back his chair and stood, adding, “Let your mom know I’m bringing a side dish.”

Merry groaned. “Not the Brussels sprouts thing!”

“What?” Pike gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “Everyone said it was delicious!”

“They were being nice, man. Nobody likes Brussels sprouts.” Anthony picked up his coffee cup in one hand and wrapped his other arm around Pike’s neck. “He’ll bring mac and cheese. Grab your coffee, bro.”

“Unhand me, cur!” Pike bellowed in a stage whisper, drawing the attention of half the room.

“We’re leaving here before you start talking about kale chips,” Anthony whispered back, waiting for Pike to grab his coffee with a grumble. “Thanks again, Merry.”