Holly versus Mr. Ivy by Amanda P. Jones
Chapter 23
Holly
Rhett and me. Rhett joked and teased like usual, but there was an underlying tension. Like he thought I’d start shouting at him—the way I had my family—at the drop of a hat. I had been a bit defensive after he’d joined us for Sunday brunch, but it was because I’d felt insecure and embarrassed. Trev and Noah riled me up and brought out the worst in me. Before Rhett had arrived for our game day, I’d completely planned to behave myself. Years of being teased and having to keep up with my brother and cousin had been unleashed without my permission. I was mortified Rhett watched me yell at my family members like I was a heathen.
Four and a half weeks had passed since then, and we’d settled into this awkward dance where we pretended all was well, but inside I wanted to boldly tell Rhett I missed him. That I wanted another chance to hang out without my family around. That I wanted things to go back to the way they were before that dreadfully embarrassing Sunday.
Winter had also blown in with a bang. Thanksgiving was tomorrow, but it felt like January. Snow covered the grass. My breath puffed white in the air. And we were busier than ever at The Boardwalk. Rhett and Aaron had started a new campaign on social media and whatever they’d done, the masses flocked like seagulls after a beach party.
With Rhett’s help, I’d conducted all the reviews with my team, and while I still struggled with being too strict, I’d made progress. I had a long way to go, but I was proud of what I’d accomplished. Of course, without Rhett, I’d never have agreed to change in the first place. Regardless of how weird things were between us personally, professionally Rhett was still helping me become the best executive chef I could be.
Tonight was the first slow night we’d had in weeks. Not many people came out on Thanksgiving Eve. Most were home prepping their own feasts for the holiday. Of course, The Boardwalk would still be open tomorrow. Pulling rank, I’d told Nico he was in charge. Mom was doing better, but with cancer, you never knew when things could change. I wanted to spend the day with her.
I finished the report I’d been working on and shut my computer down. As I reached for my purse, Rhett meandered into my office, making himself at home in the pink chair across from me.
“Come on in,” I said sarcastically.
He grinned. “Thanks, I will.”
I set my purse on the desk and leaned back into my chair. “What are you still doing here? It’s late.”
“Working, same as you. Anyway, two things.” He held up his pointer and middle fingers. “First, are you sure you’re good with me coming over tomorrow?”
Rhett had told me his parents decided to go on a cruise this week to avoid the family drama. They’d offered to pay for Rhett to join them, but with the tight deadline at the restaurant, he didn’t want to leave. I was sure Aaron could’ve handled everything. He’d proven himself to be quite the assistant manager. I still preferred Rhett, but Aaron wasn’t a bad alternative. “Yes. I wouldn’t have offered it if I hadn’t meant it. Everything will be ready at five. Wear stretchy pants. I’m making a lot of food.” Just like Joey on Friends, I too had special pants for Thanksgiving Day.
“Why? There will only be four of us.”
I wagged a finger. “Not the point of Thanksgiving.”
Rhett laughed. “True. Are you sure I can’t bring anything else besides drinks?”
If he asked me that one more time, I’d climb into his lap and force him to stop talking. Hmmm. Kissing was a great way to stop someone from saying something. Too bad Rhett had cooled off any sort of flirting with me. “For the last time, no!”
He held his hands up. “Okay.”
“What’s the second thing you wanted?”
Rhett rubbed a hand along his jaw. His cheeks turned pink. “Would you like to go to the town Christmas fair with me Saturday morning?”
My breath froze in my lungs. Wait, was he asking me on a date? Or would this be a friends-only outing? After a month of being unsure where we stood, I needed clarification. “As a date? As a management team-building exercise? As friends?” What about our jobs?
“Do we need to put a label on it right this minute?”
Yes. It would help my speeding pulse and racing mind figure out what the heck was happening. “I guess not…”
“So? Do you want to go?”
Whatever the reason, I missed him. Which was crazy since I saw him every day. “Yes, I do.” I just hoped no one saw us there.
Rhett flashed me a relieved smile. “Excellent.”
His dazzling grin had my knees going weak. Good thing I’d stayed seated. “Great.”
“Can I walk you out?”
I blinked. He’d never offered to do that before. “To my car?”
“Yeah. It’s dark out. I should’ve been doing that from the very first day.”
My stomach fluttered like a million snowflakes swirling around in a storm. “I’m used to it.” I’d done it for three years.
“I know. I’d like to anyway, if that’s okay with you?”
He looked so hopeful. “Yeah. Sure.”
Snatching my coat from the back of my office chair, I zipped myself in, grabbed my purse, and made my way down the hall to the metal door that led to the employee parking lot.
Rhett didn’t have a coat on or keys in his hand. Was he not leaving yet? He must be freezing, with the cold temperature and frigid breeze off the ocean.
The walk was short and quiet. Clicking my fob, I unlocked my driver’s side door, threw my purse into the passenger seat, started the ignition, then stood and stared at Rhett, who had one hand resting on my open car door and the other shoved into his pants pocket.
“Thanks for making sure I’m safe,” I said, those same snowflakes dancing in my stomach.
He tapped his thumb against the car door. “I’m sorry for the last few weeks,” he blurted. “Things have been”—he blew out a heavy breath that instantly turned into a white cloud—“difficult. And I’ve been battling what I want versus what is smart.”
Very helpful explanation.I folded my arms across my chest, seeking warmth. Goosebumps rose along my exposed skin. “Does this still have to do with your family?” I asked, confused. Or what happened after you met with your uncle a month ago? Or what happened between us when Darby walked in?
The night was clear. Stars glistened overhead. The moon hung heavy and bright. Waves crashed along the rocks to our left. If only it weren’t so cold, this would be the perfect night to stay up late talking.
He looked over my shoulder, out toward the ocean. “No.”
“Oh.” I tilted my head, taking in his torn expression. “Is it something I can help you with?”
He stared at me. My heart pounded at his intense gaze.
“Yes.”
Was he finally going to tell me about that night I’d taken him home, or was it something else? I cleared my throat. “What can I do?” My voice came out soft, unsteady.
His lips pulled up halfway to a smile. “I’ll tell you Saturday.”
He couldn’t just dangle a carrot like that in front of me and then make me wait. “Is there a reason you’re waiting until later?”
He patted my car door. “There is. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner. Goodnight, Holly.”
Oh. “’Night, Rhett.”
Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.
I pulled another lump of dough out of the bowl and rolled it around my palms, forming a ball. Christmas music played on my phone, tucked into my back pocket. Flour covered the kitchen island and my red apron, and a few white-dusted patches marred the floor. The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was showing on the TV. From the distance across the family room, dining room, and into the kitchen, each float seemed to be the size of a sticky note instead of the massive displays they really were.
I’d taped the cooking schedule for the day to the fridge. If we stayed on track, the food would be ready at five as promised.
As I formed another roll in my hands, my thoughts kept going back to last night and the way Rhett had looked at me when he’d asked to walk me to my car. He’d had this tenderness in his gaze that still sent those snow flurries swirling around my stomach.
What did he need my help with?
His mom’s side of the family had invited him over to celebrate with them today, but he’d chosen to come here instead. Why? Did he not like his mom’s side of his family either?
Whatever happened today, I just hoped that without Noah here, we’d have a fun-filled holiday. Not that I didn’t love my cousin—I absolutely did—but Noah and Trevor worked together to rile me. With one of them absent, things should be calmer.
“Under the Tree” by Sam Palladio strummed from my phone. I’d fallen in love with the song when I heard it on Princess Switch 2. With flour currently scattered around the kitchen, the words resonated with me even more. If all I got for Christmas this year was Rhett, I’d be happy. Well, not completely true—I’d take Mom being free from cancer first. And Rhett second.
How was I supposed to behave around him today, knowing I wanted him but couldn’t have him? Between Rhett’s recent weird behavior, his statement about staying single, and his refusal to tell me what happened the night I took him home, we were surrounded by huge obstacles. Not to mention, if Anthony Ivy found out, we’d both lose our jobs.
The last roll was formed. Moving the baking sheets over to the kitchen table, I draped a bread cloth over the dough, allowing them to rise one more time before baking. Quickly washing my hands, I went to check on Mom. According to my schedule, it was time for her to eat and take her meds. Afterward, we had to get started on the next item on my turkey day list to stay on track.
I padded down the hallway. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mom!” I said, walking into her bedroom.
She rolled over, a small smile on her cracked lips. “Happy Thanksgiving, Holly. Sorry I slept in. How long have you been awake?”
I’d gotten home from work at one but didn’t fall asleep until three (because I was totally reading). As such, I’d only managed four hours of sleep, but it was fine. Caffeine would keep me awake, and once the turkey was in the oven, I’d take a quick nap. “I’ve only been up for an hour.” Ish. “What would you like for breakfast?”
Mom looked at me like I should know the answer. “Pie.”
Every Thanksgiving, Mom made all the pies on Wednesday. On Thursday morning, we’d eat pie for breakfast. I loved the tradition, and though Mom couldn’t make all the pies by herself this year, she had helped more than I thought she would yesterday.
“Glad you’re feeling up to it. What kind would you like?”
“Apple is calling my name.” She licked her lips. “With ice cream instead of whipped cream, please.”
Thanksgiving was the only time Mom bypassed her rule about no ice cream at breakfast. “Sounds good. I think I’ll have that too. Want to join me in the dining room, or eat in here?”
“I’ll meet you out there in a few minutes. What do you still need to cook?”
Oh, just about everything. “The rolls are rising. I’m doing the stuffing next so I can get the turkey prepped and in the oven. Potatoes, yams, and jello are after that. Lastly, I’ll tackle the green beans and salad.”
Mom sat up in bed. “Please tell me you’re not making a big batch of each of those?”
“We’ll have enough for leftovers, but not so much that we’re sick of them and throw them out.” We didn’t have the money to be wasteful.
Her lips pulled into a straight line. “I wish your dad were still here. Money wouldn’t be tight, and you wouldn’t be doing everything on your own.”
I always missed Dad. Holidays expanded the pain. His absence was hard to forget when we sat around the table waiting for the turkey to be carved. Dad had always made us go around and say three things we each were grateful for before he would cut the bird. Trevor had taken over, but it felt different. Same with Christmas. The Dad-sized hole in my heart deepened when we watched movies, opened presents, and spent time with family without his booming laugh and quick wit surrounding us.
“Trevor will be here soon, and once you’re up, I’m putting you to work snapping the beans,” I said.
She frowned. “You’re only giving me that job because you don’t like doing it.”
I grinned. “There must be some perks to being the chef.”
Mom smiled back. “I taught you too well.”
I laughed. “You did.”
“Get out of here so I can get ready.”
I saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”
Heading back to the kitchen, I prepped our breakfast. Mom and I ate quickly, devouring the homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream. I took my last bite just as my phone pinged with a text.
Rhett’s name popped up. My stomach flipped.
Rhett:Remember me talking about my friend Jack? Watch this clip from yesterday.
I tapped the link to a segment from Mornings with Melissa, a local talk show. Angling my phone to allow Mom to view the video as well, I clicked play. Melissa announced their guest, a woman who had competed on Baking Spirits Bright.
Wait, wasn’t Rhett’s friend the one who had competed?
A beautiful woman with long wavy hair, clear-framed glasses, and a gorgeous green wrap dress joined Melissa on set. The woman—Meg—talked briefly about her experience on the reality baking show. The next scene showed Meg judging three different desserts. She picked a brownie that looked divine as the winner. A blond, muscular man stepped onto the set. Meg’s face revealed her shock at seeing him.
The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place when Melissa announced the man was Jack Ackleman, another competitor on Baking Spirits Bright. My jaw dropped. That was Rhett’s best friend?
Dang, he was hot. I fanned my cheeks as I stared at him. Seriously, how did Rhett and Jack not have women falling all over them constantly?
The three spoke more about the competition, and Melissa announced the premier would air tonight.
Putting up our Christmas tree could wait. We had to watch the first episode after dinner.
Mom pointed to my phone. “That was cute. We should watch Baking Spirits Bright together.”
“For sure.” It would be like old times, except a baking competition instead of cooking.
I texted Rhett.
Holly:What a fun way to promote the show! I’d love to meet him sometime.
Rhett responded right away.
Rhett:We’ll set up a time to hang out. Anyway…I showed you this because it’s what gave me the courage to talk to you on Saturday.
Why would Jack being on a talk show help Rhett talk to me?
Holly:I’m more intrigued than ever. Whatever is happening on Saturday had better be major. Again, I ask, why can’t it be tonight? [thinking face emoji]
Rhett:Because.
Holly: WHY?? [annoyed face emoji]
Rhett: Are you impatient? [wink emoji]
Holly: That’s it. No pie for you.
Rhett:[angry emoji] That’s just mean.
Yeah, well, so was hinting at a major revelation and then expecting me to just be okay with waiting. Hadn’t he met me? Didn’t he know patience wasn’t my thing?
Holly: Should have thought about that before [shrug emoji]
Rhett:Holly…
Holly: Fight me for it if you must. But you are not getting pie from me tonight.
Rhett: Game. On.
Why did that send a ripple of anticipation through me?
Holly:[boxing glove emoji]
I handed Mom the bag of green beans and told her to get snapping. Taking out butter, celery, and onion, I started on the homemade stuffing.
While sautéing the celery and onion, the doorbell rang. Who was coming to our house so early on a holiday? I turned the stove off, then went to the door.
Rhett stood on the porch holding two brown paper bags. His black sweater and khaki pants fit him to perfection. He must have employed a tailor who ensured his clothes hugged every muscle on his chiseled body.
My cheeks flooded with heat as I stared at the sexy man before me. “What are you doing here? We said five.” Not ten.
He shrugged. “Thought I’d help cook since you do it every day at the restaurant.”
I folded my arms over my braless chest. Here Rhett stood looking like a GQ model, and I resembled a slob with my stained, holey sweats, greasy hair piled on top of my head, no makeup, the girls set free, and a Christmas apron covered in flour.
“A little notice would’ve been nice.” At least I’d brushed my teeth.
He smiled. “I knew you would have refused my help if I’d told you I was coming over early.”
I would have. “Fine.” I waved him in. “But this”—I swept my hands up and down my body—“is not up for any judgements. I didn’t know you were coming and haven’t had time to shower yet. It’s on the schedule after the turkey is in the oven.”
“You scheduled your shower?”
I shot him a dry look. “That really surprises you?”
“Not even a little. It’s just who you are.” He smiled at me in a way that made me forgive him for his early arrival.
“If you want to help, I’ll put you to work.”
“Excellent.”
We went to the kitchen, where Mom and Rhett fawned over one another. Rhett took a seat at the dining table and helped snap beans. Trevor arrived shortly after, and I asked him to peel potatoes. I loved moments like this, when we all came together and worked on a meal as one. We joked, laughed, remembered past Thanksgivings, and shared our favorite memories. My cheeks hurt from smiling.
Finally, we were at a point with the food prep that we could take a break. Removing my apron, I announced, “I’m going to take a shower. Trevor, keep an eye on the turkey, please.”
“What am I watching for?”
“I’ll help.” Mom patted his shoulder. To me, she said, “Go rest. You look tired.”
“Jeez, thanks,” I said, pretending to be offended.
“Anything I can do to help while you’re gone?” Rhett asked.
Yeah, stop looking so hot that I want to kiss you.“Why don’t you watch a movie with my mom so she can rest? That would be great.”
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks.” I scurried off to get clean and presentable. Since it was a holiday and Rhett was joining us, I’d chosen a killer outfit. But now I would be spending even extra time getting ready to make up for my slob-like appearance. I wouldn’t mind leaving a lasting impression on Rhett, but I wanted it to be unforgettable for good reasons.