My Favorite Holidate: A Standalone Holiday Romance
My Favorite Holidate: Chapter 49

Wilder

It’s not my place to say let’s kick him out. But it is my absolute pleasure to agree when Leo declares, “Let’s kick him out.”

I drop the last dustpan full of glass shards into a sturdy paper bag, then put it in the outdoor garbage bin, saying, “More than happy to.” Tossing out that fucker might be one of the best Christmas presents ever. It’s also the next thing I need to fix in the long list of mistakes I’ve made.

“Yes, but we need a plan.” Leo strokes his chin in the universal signal for I’m devising a brilliant scheme.

But brilliant schemes are right in my wheelhouse. The perfect strategy has come to me fully formed.

I explain it to Leo, and his eyes light up. “Let’s do it now.”

First, I make a few phone calls, arrange a handful of details, and enlist some troops. As I do, Charlotte calls Leo and tells him she forgives him for being late. She also has juicy new info about the gingerbread competition.

When Leo shares it with me, I’m not surprised. But I will enjoy the hell out of this extra ammo.

As soon as everything and everyone is in place, my best friend and I head directly to Brady’s cabin on the outskirts of the resort I own.

The operative words—I own.

The clock nears eleven. Leo raps loudly on the outer door and I stand to the side, out of view. Rustling sounds come from inside the cabin, then the trudge of tired feet. Brady swings open the door in the middle of a yawn.

“Hey, cuz.” Leo’s upbeat tone gives nothing away. “Got a minute to chat about the big day tomorrow?”

The yawn deepens. “Any chance this could wait till the morning? I’m tired and Iris is asleep.”

I roll my eyes. What a lazy jerk.

Leo flashes him a smile as he shakes his head. “Groomsman business. Needs to happen right now.”

“You sure, man?”

“Positive.”

“All right,” Brady says, like he’s so put out. “It’s just been a rough night for me, you know?”

He has no idea how much rougher it’s about to get.

“Thanks,” Leo says and crosses the doorway.

My turn. I move from beside the door, stepping in front of the beady-eyed asshole. Brady’s wearing a bathrobe, boxer shorts, and a T-shirt advertising a podcast on how to get rich fast. Prick.

“It’s your least favorite person,” I say as his eyes bug out, brimming with fear. “Which is entirely mutual.”

“W-what the hell are you doing here?” Aww, it’s cute that he’s scared, but then he adds in a mean voice, “After you ruined my phone.”

He cares nothing about people. Only things, money, and himself.

I step inside, closing the distance between us. “Fuck you and your phone. You ruined the entire Christmas competition.” I advance on him through the foyer as he backs deeper into the cabin. “Ever heard of respect? Decency? How about manners? You lurked around my grounds and recorded a private conversation with my daughter. You cheated in the gingerbread competition with a store-bought gingerbread house. You begged me for an audience to pitch your portfolio management, and when I turned you down—which businesses do all the time, so get used to it, Brady-i-o—you chose to get even with a public shaming.”

He backs into the couch, nearly tumbling onto it, and grabs the arm to steady himself.

“That’s not how you handle a no in business,” I continue. “Learn a little grace, maybe a little humility. Learn how to handle failure. You think you’re a smart businessman?”

I pause, giving the jackass a chance to answer. He manages a shaky, “Y-yes.”

“Wrong,” I bite out. “You’re nothing but a lying, cheating scum. And you know how I know that?”

I wait again.

Brady swallows and maybe for a split second a shred of guilt crosses his eyes. “How do you know?”

“Because I know how you treated the woman I love in my aunt’s wrapping room at Thanksgiving.”

“Fable was my girlfriend then,” he says, digging an even bigger hole, then falls onto the couch like a turtle.

Shaking his head in disgust, Leo strides to his cousin. “Do you even hear the words that come out of your mouth?”

I answer for Brady. “I don’t think he does.” Then I turn my full fury back to the prick. “I love Fable. I love her in ways you could never imagine. I love her because she’s smart, and daring, and kind, and big-hearted. She cares deeply for people, and she keeps me on my toes, and you could never appreciate her because you can’t appreciate anything but yourself. You don’t have a clue what a complete and utter dumpster fire you are. But let me enlighten you. Cheating on your girlfriend is not okay. Lying to her is not okay. Treating her like she’s anything other than the center of the universe is not okay.” I take a breath, a very satisfied one, then turn to Leo. “You want to tell him what else isn’t okay?”

A hint of sadness flashes across my friend’s eyes. My heart stops. Will he go soft? But Leo is a good man who doesn’t suffer fools, and a few seconds later, he speaks in a calm, centered voice. “What’s not okay is walking by my side as a groomsman at my wedding after what you did tonight and what you did on Thanksgiving. You cheated on my bride’s sister, and you did it seconds before I proposed. You’re out of the wedding party.”

Brady sputters, then his lower lip quivers. “But Cousin Leo⁠—”

“And since Wilder owns this resort, guess what else you’re not in?”

His eyes turn watery. “What else?”

He’s crying. He’s fucking crying. Holy shit. This is the best thing ever. Wait, no, this is. I puff out my chest and say, “You’re not staying here at my cabins—fuck it—my chalets a minute longer.”

He gulps as tears streak down his cheeks. “Where am I supposed to go?”

“That’s a really good question, Brady. You might have won a few battles, but I’m going to win this strategy game because I’ve arranged your escort out of town.”

Right on cue, the sheriff pulls into the driveway, cuts the engine, and climbs out of the patrol car. He’s not alone. Mayor Bumblefritz exits the passenger side, keeping one arm tucked behind his back. They both stride up the stone path to the door and into the cabin foyer, accompanied by a gust of crisp air.

Sheriff Hardick clears his throat, hooks his thumbs into his pants pockets, then rocks back on his heels. “Every year, we host a friendly holiday competition in the spirit of sportsmanship and gentle-humanly behavior. And you ruined it with your petulant, whiny, bratty antics tonight. So it will be my absolute pleasure to escort you out of this town and leave you at the county limits.”

Brady gulps. “On the side of the road? What do I do then?”

The mayor whips out his megaphone from behind his back and booms, “We don’t give a shit.”

I turn back to Brady and smile. “As the owner of this resort and someone who grew up, in fact, a regular guy,” I say, sketching air quotes, “it gives me great pleasure to say get the hell off my property. You’ve got one minute to get your things.”

Exactly one gratifying minute of frantic scrambling later, Brady and a very tired Iris scurry out of the cabin in their bathrobes, with their clothes poking out of their duffel bags.

But before he can dart down the stairs, I grab Brady by the neck of his bathrobe and yank him toward me. “If you ever talk to the woman I love again, bother her, or contact her in any way, shape, or form, you’ll have me to answer to. And remember—I started as just a regular guy, and I know how to play every single game. Now get the fuck out of town.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, and with his tail tucked between his legs, he runs to the sheriff’s vehicle for a ride out of town.

“And don’t come back,” I call out helpfully.

“Don’t you worry about that, Mr. Blaine,” Sheriff Hardick says as he tips his cowboy hat my way. Then he turns to Brady and Iris and adds, “In case that wasn’t clear, you’re not welcome at Evergreen Falls. We like everyone except for cheating little cheaters who cheat in our Christmas competition.”

They peel off, and that’s one more thing fixed.

Leo turns back to me, then nods toward my cabin. “Maybe it’s time for you to deal with that whole the woman I love thing.”

Huh. I did say that in the heat of the moment. More than once in fact. And I felt it all deep in my bones, and into the far corners of my soul.

Trouble is, when I reach my cabin, the light’s off in the honeymoon suite.