Page 21 of Not Home Alone

“I promise you, I will never forget hearing you say that. But yes, that’s the second most important thing I learned in business school. Only exchange your tat for an equal or greater amount of tit.”

Unbelievable. He is unbelievable. “I can’t talk to you anymore. I can’t believe any of this.” I lift my hand and try to comb my fingers through my hair, but I can’t. Because I’m a Christmas tree. “I need to get out of this thing.” I honestly don’t even remember how I got into it. It was in one of the boxes my dad brought me, and I was so wired from the delicious holiday-flavored coffee, and trying to drive Grant away, that I just tore my clothes off and suddenly I was wearing a super fun green triangle. I reach up to tug at the star, freeing my head from the face hole. “I need to talk to my dad. I need to go to the store.” I run up the stairs, while simultaneously pulling my arms in through the armholes. I stop on the landing because I can’t get my bent arms through all the way. I can’t get my arms back out through the holes to pull this stupid thing over my head now either.

“Permission to come up and help you out of that tree costume,” Grant says calmly from the bottom of the stairs.

“Permission not granted, Grant!” I wriggle around some more. This is all Grant Moody’s fault. This is what he does. He puts me in humiliating, unbearably awkward situations that I can’t get out of. At least this time it’s not in front of the whole town.

“I really think you need my help.”

“Fine! But don’t look at me.” I’m only wearing a bra and panties under this costume and the very last thing I need is for this man to see me in my underwear when he’s lording the possibility of his family destroying my family’s dreams over me.

He trots up the stairs. “I’ll close my eyes,” he says, standing right behind. I can feel him holding onto the hem of the costume. “Stay still.”

“Keep your eyes closed.”

“They’re closed.” The ease with which he undresses me by pulling the tree dress over my head is alarming.

Alarmingly hot.

“Keep them closed…” I remind him, with the breathy voice of someone who actually means take it all off.

He slowly lets go of the costume, leaning into my back, his arms around my shoulders. “They’re closed,” he says quietly.

I catch the fabric and wrap it around my torso, like a bath towel. Grant is still standing right behind me. I can feel his breaths getting a little faster, a little heavier on the back of my neck. My mouth is dry. Licking my lips, I say, “Keep them closed until I’m in my room.” My voice is still hoarse and sultry, like this is foreplay and I’m seducing him.

Like he didn’t just tell me that the most important person in my life might be losing his business in a couple of weeks.

“I really am sorry about the lease, Merrily,” he says, just loud enough for me to hear him as I’m about to enter the bedroom. And he sounds so earnest I almost believe him. “I do want to help.”

“Then tell your dad not to raise the rent.”

“I will if you pretend to be my girlfriend. Do we have a deal?”

“You can stick your deal where the sun doesn’t shine!”

“The sun shines everywhere when you’re around, Tucker.”

No amount of anger and resentment toward that man is going to stop me from snort-laughing at the image of me blasting sunshine up his butt.

“Pretend I didn’t say that,” he calls out.

“I will never pretend you didn’t say that,” I holler. “And I will never pretend to be your girlfriend!”

EIGHT

MERRILY

Grant had already left by the time I’d changed into a sweater and jeans and went back downstairs. He wrote his cell phone number on the back of a paper napkin and taped it to the inside of the front door. He also wrote:

I’ll be at my office. Text me when we have a deal. Also, this paper napkin is terrifying. Have a great day.

I had never seen the words “Have a great day” written so acerbically before. Did he not have time to add a small line above the period to make an exclamation mark? I would have a better day if he had just not written those four words followed by a period. And the paper napkin is not terrifying. It has the face of a sheep and the sheep has a wreath around its neck and birds on its head. And okay, the expression on its face is a little creepy, but it isn’t terrifying. He’s so dramatic!

I took the Christmas tree back inside from the porch, and then I started walking to Main Street. It would have only taken me ten minutes to get to my dad’s store, but I’ve been soaking up the scenery, and I was stopped by five people on the way. They all gave me a little pat on the shoulder when they said they understood why I hadn’t been back in a while. They still feel sorry for me. Which is fine. It’s sweet, really.

And also annoying.

But fine!