Page 8 of The Holiday Ex-Files

I tilted my head, looking at every angle of the shot. I missed doing photo shoots. Especially those satisfying moments when, like this photographer, you caught the light just right.

After I fangirled on the artsy shot, I turned my laptop toward Mara. “Noah’s latest.”

Mara had just shoved a large bite of cashew chicken in her mouth, so when her jaw dropped it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Stunning, right?”

Mara realized her mouth was hanging open and started to chew. While she took a moment to get her bite down, I kept wondering why the beautiful creature in the photo didn’t make Noah’s cut. It must be some woman he was in love with.

Once Mara swallowed her food, she grimaced and even growled at the screen. “That looks so fake. He’s not even touching her.”

Like I said, Mara was pretty anti-romance, but looking closer at the “couple,” she wasn’t wrong. “Well, it makes it easier for me to edit her out.”

“Isn’t he using your services like every few weeks?”

I nodded.

She peered closer at the screen. “I swear it looks like he randomly grabbed the closest girl around just to have his photo taken with her. They look so bored.”

I bit my lip, wondering if I should say something. I kind of had a theory that I knew wouldn’t be popular with Mara. But I thought she should know. “I think I might know why.”

Mara grabbed her Diet Coke. “Do tell.”

“Well . . . Noah told me yesterday that he’s already picked out his future bride.”

Mara’s eyes widened as she raised her drink to her mouth. “Really? Who?”

I gave her an uneasy smile. “He didn’t give me a name, but he said I knew her and she’s incredible, but she intimidates him. So, I’ve been thinking about who I know that fits the description. And well . . .” I bunched up my shoulders. “The woman who made sense was you.”

She spit out her drink, and it went all over my floor and coffee table. She spluttered while grabbing napkins out of the takeout bag. “Me and Noah. No way. There is a rule about not dating your brother’s best friend, and I plan to keep it.” She sopped up her mess.

I set down my laptop and helped her clean up, though my sudden movement scared Neville. He ran back to my room.

While I patted the coffee table dry, I braved pressing the issue. “I don’t know. Think about it. He knows you’re off-limits, and let’s admit it, you are insanely incredible and a tad intimidating. I mean, you love serial killer shows.”

She waved her hand all around. “No. No. No. He sees me as the annoying kid sister. Besides, he’s a man whore. And once you’ve been out with one, that’s all it takes to swear you off men.”

I gave her a sly grin, knowing she meant her ex, Heathen Steven. “So you’re saying that not even Noah Cullen could tempt you?”

“Tempt me, sure. Which is why I’ve always kept my distance. I could see myself totally taking advantage of him, you know, to irritate my brother, but then I’d hate myself in the morning.” Her eyes got a little dreamy.

I giggled. “You do like him.”

“Uh, that’s not only a no, but a hella no.”

“Hella no?” I smiled.

“It’s like next-level hell.”

“I’ll remember that.” I tossed a wet napkin in the bag.

She sat back and eyed me, an aha moment appearing in her pretty hazel peepers. “You know, it could be you.”

I spat out a huge laugh. No way did Noah want me. We were hardly even friends anymore. Besides, everyone knew I was planning on staying single until death did I part. “I was married to his best friend.” I hated to say it out loud, but since she was my maid of honor and his sister, it was pointless to pretend otherwise.

“Yeah. That would be messed up.”

“Totally.”

Mara shrugged. “It’s probably some obscure woman you met like one time.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Because I definitely knew she was wrong about Noah wanting to marry me. What a ridiculous thought.

Chapter Three

Happy Sunday, Ex-Filers. Here’s your ‘how to rock the single life’ pro tip of the day. When attending family dinners, always make sure to wear sweats or anything with elastic waistbands. And don’t be afraid to wear a dirty or wrinkled T-shirt. Make sure whatever it is, it says you don’t care about your appearance. This will prevent your well-meaning mother or other relatives from inviting potential dating candidates. This advice is especially golden for holiday dinners. Not only do elastic waistbands act as a deterrent to suitor prospects, but they also allow you to eat second and third helpings and still feel like you can breathe. Note: If your sloppy appearance doesn’t turn them off, you can try one of the following, which have worked wonders for me: