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I returned to the hotel after dinner, after a long kiss that turned into an extended make-out session at the front door that might or might not have turned into something else on the new area rug just beneath the soaring twinkling Christmas tree in the parlor.
"I'll pick you up at the hotel at nine-thirty," Callan promised as he said goodnight, and I had agreed, every part of me smiling.
Now, back in the half-decorated room at the inn, reality threatened to set in. The impersonal setting of my room, coupled with the bare tree in the corner and my suitcase on the stand next to the closet, reminded me that this wasn't my real life. This wasn't my home, and these people—warm though they might be—were not my family.
But I pushed that doubt away, too swaddled in the lingering warmth of Callan Whitewood's embrace, his kiss, his…everything, to let it affect me. I got into my pajamas, put on HGTV—I had to keep tabs on the competition, after all—and climbed onto my bed to call Lynn at home.
"Hey you!" Lynn picked up after the first couple rings.
"Hey," I said.
"It's been like a year since you've called. Your texts are so suspenseful! How’s Broken Tree? Have you won over the network yet?" Lynn's voice made me miss home, empty though it was in many ways. But the ache of missing the familiar was overshadowed by the pulsing bubble of happiness growing inside me.
"Well, I don't know about that. It's Singletree, by the way. Though they changed the name officially for the month."
"To what?"
"Er, to Christmas Tree."
"You. Are. Kidding!" Lynn laughed. "You are living in a town named for the thing you despise with the fire of a thousand burning suns?"
"Yes." I settled back into the pillows on my bed, waiting for my vehemence about all things Christmas to set in. It didn't arrive. "But I actually think maybe this has been good. I don't mind Christmas stuff so much after so much immersive exposure. The people here are really into the holidays."
"I guess that's why you're there," Lynn said, sounding pleased. "And the job is good? Things are staying on track?"
"They are actually."
"You sound so surprised," Lynn laughed.
"My work life does not historically go smoothly."
"This is true."
"But yeah, we filmed the first three houses. We've got the week to chill while all the film is reviewed, and then next week will be make it or break it time. Two more houses, including the big one."
"And is that Mr. Grumpy super-hot soccer star?"
I laughed. "Right. Yes."
"He's cool with you filming now?" Lynn sounded surprised and I realized how much had happened in the last week that I still hadn’t told her. I’d texted that we’d spent some time together, but that was it. Only Annabelle knew all the details.
"Yeah…" I wasn't sure how to begin. "He's actually a really nice guy." The word "nice" made me cringe. Callan was so much more than nice, and the mention of him had parts of my body remembering it and suggesting things that didn't even make sense and were certainly not nice.
"Nice, huh?" Lynn's skeptical tone said she knew exactly where I was headed with this. "What's going on?"
"I've been seeing him a little bit."
"Right. With a clipboard in your hand and a bunch of cameras behind you. It's your job." Lynn emphasized the last word and the way she did it made any actual reminders of my tendency to screw up jobs totally unnecessary.
"Maybe a little more privately, actually." When Lynn didn't immediately answer, my mouth started moving at a rapid pace, and I machine gunned out the details of the past week, from Santa's sleigh to the Half Cat Distillery to dinner at Callan's house with Cormac and the girls.
"Oh shit," Lynn breathed when I finally paused for breath.
"Like… 'oh shit, that's great and I'm really happy you're happy,' or…"
"Oh shit, April." Lynn ignored her question. "This is not going to end well. You can see that, right?"
