“You made candy canes?” Twila asked as she accepted the dinner container her sister passed her once they were back at the B&B. “The one you have right now, Nick Santos pulled with his own hands?”
“Yup.”
“And he kissed your nose.”
“Yes.”
“He’s acting uncharacteristic of his normal asshole-y self?”
“Completely.”
“I didn’t even get to see him. I went to give Mom hell for putting that psycho b***h in our place,” she waved up the stairs. “He was off helping someone with a tree when you damn near pushed me into the car to leave.”
“He was wearing a red hat Mom put on his head and damned if it didn’t look like it belonged there.”
“He told you he was related to Santa Claus?”
“Uh-huh,” Grier was sucking on the end of one of the candy canes and savoring the peppermint vodka flavor.
“Did he
