Mistletoe and Mr. Right Read Online Free

shoulder blades a bit harder than necessary and she smacks his arm, their tussle distracting everyone from me, at least for the moment.
    â€œKids, come on. You’ve been in the same room for two minutes,” Mr. Donnelly admonishes before turning his steady gaze back to me. “Go on, Jessica.”
    Something about the way he says my full name makes me wonder if he finds my insistence on using it ridiculous, but nothing in his expectant expression backs up my feeling. It’s probably my own ears hearing it that way after years of correcting people.
    â€œWell, I grew up in Missouri and I’m majoring in journalism.” My neck feels hot from all of the attention, but there’s nowhere else to toss it. I kind of asked for it, showing up like this.
    â€œWhy are you so dirty?” Molly wrinkles her nose, her cheeks still pink and her hair out of sorts from the choking incident.
    She had to remind everyone I hadn’t answered that part of the question. Lying went against my code, but telling them I mauled their livestock on the way into town doesn’t appeal to me, either. “I, um, had to get out of the car and move a tree branch.”
    â€œHow did you and Brennan meet?” The teenager peppers me with the next question around a mouthful of what looks like cranberry scone.
    â€œAt a frat party,” Brennan grunts. “Nothing too special about how it started, I guess.”
    I wait for him to add something sweet about how it’s been special since or how quickly we connected but he doesn’t, and the silence twirling through the room goes faster and faster until it’s hard to breathe. It’s accompanied by the scraping of forks against china, the occasional murmur about snow arriving in time for Christmas morning, and the chiming of a cuckoo clock on the wall.
    Mrs. Donnelly looks up at it, then gives me another tired smile. “Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you, Jessica.”
    A yawn stretches her lips wide and inspires one of my own, a reminder that I’ve been up nearly twenty-four hours. My eyes burn, nothing on my mind now but a sincere hope that she’s going to show me to a bedroom.
    I’m guessing Catholicism has something to say about Brennan and I sharing a room.
    No one moves, and a desperate urge for conversation tugs at my tongue. “I know it’s unbearably rude of me, showing up like this two days before Christmas, but I couldn’t think of a good gift for Brennan and this seemed right.” I try a smile, earning matching nods in return, as though they’re a family of bobbleheads. “Anyway, you know us Americans. Unbearably rude is kind of our national slogan.”
    The joke tumbles flat on its face, and Mrs. Donnelly reaches over and pats my hand. “It’s no trouble, dear. We’ve missed our boy these past few months, and it’ll be refreshing to hear about his time in the States from one of his friends. Not much of a talker, our Brennan.”
    â€œThat’s the truth,” I reply, a little miffed that she referred to me as his
friend.
And that he didn’t correct her.
    She takes me down the hall to my room and then gives me a tour of the guest bathroom before handing over clean towels and bidding me good night. I collapse on my bed as she closes the door, wondering how much to read into my not getting to say a proper good night to my boyfriend before being herded away.
    Maybe he’ll sneak in to see me in a bit, to tell me how happy he is to see me, how glad I made the three-thousand-mile trip to surprise him, and apologize for being so stoic upon my arrival.
    I fall asleep before I can even think about changing clothes, so if Brennan does knock on my door, it falls on deaf ears. Ghosts fill my dreams, but unlike old Ebenezer Scrooge, mine all lurk in the past. My spirits don’t have anything nice to say about the future.
    Then again, they never do.

Chapter Three
    Rays of sun peer