Page 13 of Mistletoe Mischief

He replaced his headphones, and Ryler left him alone, grinning to herself. They were complete opposites, and the only thing they seemed to have in common was Ryler. Imagining them going at it was so unbelievable, it bordered on comical.

Diving back into her Instagram observing, she continued to look through Pike’s feed. His relationship with his family and friends was tight knit, which spoke to a likable person.

Plus, he had a really nice smile.

Guilt zipped through her, realizing she was ogling a strange man on the internet instead of shooting a message to the man she was dating to let him know she was excited to see him. The truth was, Oliver was nice and checked all the boxes for a good boyfriend; he had a busy career, his own place, and he didn’t mind her being gone several weeks of the month. Which in itself was an issue, because if you wanted to be with someone, you should miss them and not want them gone all the time, right?

Ryler exited out of Pike’s profile and typed Oliver York into the search bar in the Instagram app. Maybe she could get him on video call before he left for work.

Her thumb hovered over the message icon, when she spotted several new pictures he’d posted. Instead of initiating the call, she clicked on the newest picture. Ollie’s slight build was decked out in a pair of bike shorts and a tank top, his balding head shiny as he held on to a petite Latina woman in hot pink running shorts and a tie-dyed sports bra, her hair styled in a short pixie cut.

The caption underneath explained everything. My beautiful girlfriend @claudialo916 and I enjoying an early morning run on the path.

They’d been making out on his couch several weeks ago, and suddenly he had a girlfriend?

When was the last time you actually spoke to him though? Two weeks? What man is going to think you’re still interested after ghosting him for that long?

Ryler wanted to crawl into a hole, embarrassed at her arrogance. She’d just gone off without keeping in contact with him and assumed he’d be around when she got back.

Damn, what a jerk she was when it came to relationships. She couldn’t even remember the name of the guy before Ollie, just that he liked to talk about his expensive aquarium and the fish inside.

“Ryls?” Alia whispered, breaking up her self-loathing.

Ryler turned to her cousin, waiting expectantly. “Yes?”

“I think I’ve come up with some even better options than Mistletoe if—”

When Ryler opened her mouth to protest, Alia spoke rapidly, “If you’ll just hear me out.”

Ryler pressed the button for the flight attendant. “I’m listening.”

“Australia. We haven’t hit all the cities on your list—”

“I lost interest after watching that giant spider jump on Neil’s back.”

Alia giggled. “It made for a good episode though, right?”

“Next?” Ryler said impatiently.

“What about New Zealand? It’s Aussie adjacent, which means hot accents, but without the PTSD.”

The attendant stopped in front of her, a bland expression on her face. “Yes?”

“Could I get a Moscow mule, please?” Ryler asked, figuring the alcohol might help her sleep.

“Right away,” the attendant said, turning to Alia. “Anything for you, miss?”

“No, thank you.”

When the woman walked away, Alia dived back in. “I’ve also heard Costa Rica is nice this time of year.”

“Alia—”

“Oh, come on! We could go to flipping Finland if you want snow! Idaho is so … blegh!”

Forget the mule, Ryler thought, I think I need something straight up.

“I know you grew up there, but what are we going to do for three weeks or so in a cabin in the woods? That is how too many horror movies start, and I’m not about to be the star of White Christmas No More.” The flight attendant returned with Ryler’s drink, and Alia explained, “You know, because the snow turned red because of all the blood and murder.”