Mistletoe and Mr. Right by Lyla Payne Page A

door. “Sure, let’s walk.”
    He raises his eyebrow but doesn’t comment, taking off toward the sun without waiting. I take a few skips to catch up, then have to double-time it through the calf-deep snow to match his lengthy stride.
    My breath plumes out past my lips harder and harder, clouds of wispy white dissipating before Grady can notice, but we’ve only gone about five hundred yards before he looks back to check on me. He slows his pace without comment, and I would breathe a sigh of relief if I had any extra air.
    â€œThanks for at least trying to prepare me for Katie,” I start, feeling like chatting even though an hour ago I just wanted to be alone. And okay, wondering if Grady might be able to give me something—anything—that makes me feel better about Brennan having kept his past from me.
    â€œNothing can prepare a person for the loveliness that is Katie McBride,” Grady replies, eyeing me. “And your boyfriend should have done that, not me.”
    Everything may not be wine and roses at the moment, but I’m not going to bad-mouth Brennan behind his back. “She
is
lovely. I even like her.”
    He snorts. “Of course you do. Everyone loves Katie. Literally everyone.”
    â€œShe grew up here, too?”
    â€œYes. We all threw her in the mud when we were little, all chased after her when we got a little older. But she only had eyes for Brennan. Always.”
    â€œIs that why you get little lines around your mouth like you tasted something sour when you say his name?”
    Grady stumbles a little, surprise raising his eyebrows. “What? No. I mean, I don’t do that.” It’s the first time he’s seemed out of sorts or less than confident. It’s sort of endearing. “I don’t have a problem with Brennan. I certainly never had any illusions of dating Katie.”
    â€œOh yeah, why would you?” I toss back, sarcasm spicy on my tongue.
    â€œTrust me, we’ve all had certain thoughts. But the two of them were inseparable.”
    â€œSo what happened?” Our pace slows to a stroll.
    Grady has professed a love of plans that rivals mine, and at the house he acted like he had so many chores on his plate for the day they couldn’t possibly get accomplished in time for drinks tonight. Yet here we are, two uptight people with deadlines on the brain, taking our sweet-ass time.
    It’s enough of an accomplishment to make me step back and marvel, but the expression on Grady’s face says I’ve breached an unseen boundary, circled wagons around lifelong friends.
    â€œShe decided it was over, for Brennan’s own good.”
    â€œYou sound like you don’t think it was. Over.”
    Grady gives me an exasperated look. “Why do you want to talk about how things may or may not be over between Brennan and Katie? Are you intent on making yourself miserable instead of enjoying your trip?”
    â€œI don’t. I just . . . I’m curious about your little town and Brennan’s life before I knew him. That’s all.”
    â€œWell, it’s not whether it was over that I was disagreeing with,” Grady explains, his voice softer now. Pliable. “It was her deciding without him.”
    There’s a suggestion running deep under the words, hidden extras that promise Grady knows more than what he’s saying. Maybe more than he wishes he did, about what went wrong. The whiff of mystery flutters on the wind before dancing away.
    We walk the rest of the way to the McCormacks’ barn in companionable silence, with Grady stopping to point out nuances in the landscape every once in a while. The neighbors’ llamas. The rainbow in the distance. The giant-placed boulders on the hillsides. It’s all new to me, all fascinating, and for the first time Ireland grabs onto my heart.
    The McCormacks’ sturdy barn is as weathered as the Donnellys’, more gray than brown and just as