“That’s a great idea! A group trip!” Dr. Raymond said, his attention reserved for one member of that group in particular.

In the back of my mind I was attempting to figure out how this would work out when Arthur then did the unthinkable.

“What about you, Ayisha? Would you like to join us?”

My head exploded. What the actual—? Seriously, when did they meet? Were they buddies now? Or—dear God, no—did they like each other? Why did that possibility cause a blossom of heated anger to form in the center of my chest?

Fortunately, Ayisha recoiled at the notion. “No, thank you.” I felt a tiny sliver of relief. Then she reached out and briefly touched his arm and smiled sweetly. “But that was very kind of you to include me, Arthur.”

I could feel my face go red and I couldn’t even blame the wind.

“Perhaps another excursion,” he said. “We’ll be here for the week.”

Was that flirting? Were Arthur and Ayisha flirting? Because it looked a lot like flirting.

Ayisha caught my eye and ever so slightly—yep—smirked. “That sounds awesome,” she replied to him.

I bit what was left of the peppermint candy in two. Crunched it right up.

Dr. Raymond bounced on the tips of his toes, one, two, three times. “This’ll be a lotta fun! Reindeer, by golly! I’ll swing by tomorrow after my nine-a.m. extraction with poor Barb Malloy. Shouldn’t take more than an hour and a half.” He looked at me, Arthur, and Ayisha. “Don’t eat candy, kids. Sugar corrodes your enamel like battery acid!”

And with that, he was gone.

I slowly lowered my hand from its automatic reach for the next peppermint.

Five

“Are you serious?” I stared at my grandmother in disbelief.

We were in the alcove near the kitchen and I’d just taken off my apron, my thoughts firmly on the idea of going upstairs to take a nap. It’d been a long day and it was still only four in the afternoon.

Instead, my grandmother found me and asked me a favor.

“Yes,” she said. “Arthur wants to buy some appropriate attire for the reindeer farm.”

“What’s appropriate for a reindeer farm?”

“Jeans, I suppose.”

“He doesn’t have jeans?” I asked, incredulous.

“Not here, apparently.”

Actually, I could totally see that. But still. “Why do I have to go with him, though? What about his aunt?”

“Esha is feeling the effects of jet lag and wants to take a quick nap”—Me too, I silently shouted—“before dinner, but she also doesn’t want Arthur to go by himself.”

“He’s seventeen,” I tried to reason.

“He’s our guest.” Grandma Jo hit me with yet another look. “And it will ease the mind of his aunt. Who is also our guest.”

My lips pressed together tightly. I tried another angle. “But I can’t drive.”