“I still can’t believe that Olivia’s mother asked her to plan the wedding,” he murmured.
Lourdes sat up taller. “Olivia planned your wedding?”
“She doesn’t do much of that these days. Brandon used to be a professional skier and has all the money they need. But she plans a few events here and there—for instance, she’s doing another friend’s wedding right now.”
“Still. Planning her sister’s wedding, when her sister stole her boyfriend? Talk about adding insult to injury.”
“It saved their folks a lot of money. It was practical. And, as I’ve learned since, family is family.”
“Not always. There are plenty of families with estranged members.”
“In a small town it’s harder to have that sort of thing going on. Besides, dividing the sisters would only penalize her parents, who’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I guess that’s true.” Lourdes studied the bride. No question Olivia was attractive—quite a bit more attractive than Noelle. Maybe that was where Noelle’s jealousy came in. Maybe she’d been constantly passed over for Olivia and was determined to have her turn, for a change.
Brandon wasn’t bad-looking, either, Lourdes decided. Not that she planned to volunteer her opinion to Kyle. “So you like blondes?”
“I don’t have a preference,” he replied.
“I’m glad to hear that, since all the women I’ve chosen for you happen to be brunette.”
“I notice that some of them have children, too.” He took over at the mouse and clicked through the various profiles. “I thought you were opposed to that ‘secondary market’ stuff.”
“I’m not opposed to it. It just makes for a more difficult relationship, because of the variables involved.” She reached for the mouse and clicked on the mail icon for a woman named Ruby Meyers. “Let’s send these ladies a message, shall we?”
“Let’s?” he repeated. “No way. I can handle that part myself. Later.” He got up and grabbed his coat. “It’s December 3—three weeks before Christmas. I say we go get a tree.”
“You want me to go with you?” she asked. “To leave the house?”
“Why not? No one will see you. We’ll go out in the woods and cut our own.”
Despite everything, she felt a spark of excitement. The past few years she’d been so busy with her career she hadn’t paid much attention to the various holidays, and Christmas was no different. This reminded her of Christmases past, when she was a little girl and would go out with her family to get a tree. “Is that a tradition of yours?”
“No. My assistant puts up a fake one at work. I usually let it go at that, since that’s where I spend most of my time. But...I think you could use a tree.”
“Me?”
He grinned at her. “I’m not the one who’s been crying.”
“How will a Christmas tree fix what’s wrong with me?”
“It won’t, but it can’t hurt to remind you of other things that matter.”
He had a point. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”
*
Kyle had just chopped down the tree Lourdes had chosen. It was so large, he doubted it would even fit in his house, but she was so adamant that it would be perfect, she’d bet him $50.
“I feel like an icicle,” she said, rubbing her hands and jumping from one foot to the other. “We need some hot chocolate.”
Kyle couldn’t understand why she was cold. She hadn’t brought any snow gear, so she was wearing his heavy coat, hat and gloves. Then again...he’d done all the work. He’d been too afraid the tree would fall on top of her if he let her chop away—although it was far more likely she would’ve just wasted her time and effort hacking ineffectively. She’d obviously never handled an ax.
“We can go by the grocery store and buy some to make at home,” he said. “Or we can grab a cup at the Gas-N-Go. Your choice.”
“I say the Gas-N-Go. I want whipped cream on top.”
Breathing heavily from the exertion, he straightened to give himself a rest. “You’re not acting too depressed.”