Decked with Holly

I ooh-ed and ahh-ed at all the right moments when we reached the spiky crags of rock that appeared to jut out of nowhere forming one stunning arch. Then again, I wasn’t faking anything. It was a gorgeous day and the gray rock face only made the transition of the water from sea green to royal blue even more spectacular. The whole view was breathtaking.

Then I went into tourist mode when Nick pulled out a camera and started snapping photos of me. Not that he needed to bring a camera, considering the number of photographers trailing behind us.

But it was surprisingly fun having Nick standing next to me, trying to take a picture of the two of us without cutting off half a face. Had we been a real couple, one of those photos, probably the one where I pretended to kiss his cheek, would have ended up as a Facebook profile. Then our friends would have posted comments like Aww, cute! Love this! Adorable! while wishing there was a way to secretly delete the image and return our dignity.

Still, I had fun with it. And even knowing that our every souvenir purchase would be reported didn’t make it any less enjoyable. I had a feeling that Jen would love her “My friend went to Mexico and all I got was this stupid shirt” T-shirt . . . especially since it would be signed by Dominic Wyatt.

He paid for it too, but I didn’t plan on mentioning that part of the story when I gave it to her.

Between the shopping, the sightseeing, and the endless little displays of affection, including Nick’s not-so-brilliant idea of sliding his hand into the back pocket of my jeans, which surprised me into jostling a grouchy Mexican woman, I found myself looking forward to collapsing in our suite.

I had spent the past two days longing for dry land, only to find myself missing the privacy of the ship after one day in Cabo San Lucas. For the first time I could see why celebrities would go to great lengths to hide their identities: When you know the cameras are on you, even hanging out becomes a job.

So when we finally did return to the suite, the first thing I did was toss my shopping bag in the general direction of the dresser and sprawl out on the bed.

“Now this is more like it.”

Nick only looked pointedly at the clock. “Aren’t we having dinner with your grandpa soon?”

I had completely forgotten about that, which wasn’t like me at all. Ordinarily, I have each one of his doctor visits memorized and I know exactly what each medication does and how often he has to take it. Something my grandpa enjoys complaining about on a regular basis.

I buried my head in a pillow for a moment. “Nick, you need to be on your best behavior, all right? Because if you do anything to upset my grandpa, I will call you Mr. Sugarpie Honey-poo in public.”

He looked appropriately disgusted by my threat. “Unnecessary. I’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Sure.”

But I wasn’t feeling confident when we entered the dining room together—and I should have been reveling in it! Last time I had looked like death nuked in a microwave and now Hot Guy was escorting me to the table.

I should have been thrilled instead of nervous. After all, the main reason I had agreed to our charade was to mess with my relatives. Make them stop counting the calories on my plate. Time to see if my plan would work.

“Hey, Gramps,” I said casually, as if everyone wasn’t staring at me. To be fair, Allison and Claire only had eyes for Nick. I really hoped they hadn’t already told my grandpa about him . . . or our new rooming situation. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

He eyed the two of us suspiciously as if he expected to see debauched written on my forehead and vile seducer on Nick’s. “What exactly have we here?”

Nick didn’t so much as flinch. “I’m Dominic Wyatt. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

Grandpa looked him up and down, then grunted.

“I hope you don’t mind if I join you for dinner.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like I have much say in the matter, now does it.”

Oh, yeah. This was going really well. I always wanted to put on a show for everyone in the dining room. There’s nothing like having a grumpy grandfather glaring at your new rock star boyfriend to set the mood for dinner.

“Uh, everyone. This is Ni . . . Dominic,” I belatedly remembered to say. “Dominic, my uncle Matt, aunt Jessica, and my cousins Andrew and Jacob. You’ve already met Allison and Claire.”

Nick nodded in greeting and pulled a chair over from a nearby table. But apparently that didn’t sit too well with my grandpa.

“Just what the hell is going on here?” he blustered. “You tell me that right now!”

“Grandpa—”

But Nick cut me off as if I had never attempted to intercede.

“I’m dating Holly. And I have a number of intentions toward your granddaughter, most of which are honorable.”

“Nick!” I wanted to punch him. That was his idea of getting along with my grandpa? Seriously?

Apparently, rock stars don’t have to use common sense, unlike the rest of us mere mortals.

Then again, my grandpa seemed to be taking Nick’s statement in stride.

“Nick, eh?” He let out a mild humph.

“Yes, sir.”

“You hurt my girl and I’ll be on top of you like a ton of bricks. We clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Well, that was kind of sweet.

My grandpa turned back to me. “How long did you say this,” he flapped his hand vaguely at Nick, “has been going on?”

“I didn’t.”

“Holly Rachel Dayton—”

It’s never a good sign when he uses my middle name.

“Uh, not real long, Grandpa. But it feels like it’s been forever.”

“And what is it you do, Nick?”

“I’m in the music business.”

“So you’re not in school.” It was less a question than a hard-edged accusation.

“No, I got my high school diploma and stopped there.”

My grandpa scowled. “Didn’t think you had anything left to learn?”

“Grandpa, you’re being snide,” I told him, hoping that would put an end to the interrogation. The rest of my family seemed too stunned to do anything more than watch the verbal ping-pong match. Yet Allison and Claire still managed to smirk.

But that might just be their default facial expression. Hard to tell.

“I’m merely trying to get to know the boy,” Grandpa growled.

“I’ve got a steady career that I didn’t want to jeopardize by taking time off for college. I can always go back later.” Nick shrugged. “Or not.”

Grandpa gave him another steely-eyed once-over. “Just how old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Twenty-one,” Grandpa blustered. “What are you doing with my granddaughter then? Couldn’t convince anyone your own age to go out with you? Had to prey on young girls!”

“Hey! I’m right here!” I pointed out. “It’s not like I can’t hear you.”

But Nick just ignored my protest. “Holly isn’t like most eighteen-year-olds.”

Only the two of us knew that he probably didn’t mean that as a compliment.

My grandpa stiffened. “She’s seventeen!”

Nick nodded agreeably. “I rounded up a few days. Speaking of which, do you have any plans for her birthday? Because I was thinking—”

“Nick has a surprise for me,” I cut him off. Okay, so I had sort of coerced him into doing something special for me . . . I still wanted it to be a secret. And I wanted to get the dinner back on track instead of continuing the full-on Spanish Inquisition.

“I can guess what surprise he’s looking for,” my grandpa snarled. “Listen, here—”

“Nick is my boyfriend, Grandpa.”

The whole table lapsed into silence, not that the rest of my family had made noise to begin with . . . unless you count the clink of the ice cubes in my aunt’s glass as she downed her water.

I felt like crap.

I don’t lie to my grandpa. Okay, I might fib on occasion, like when I say I’ve finished my homework and I’ve only doodled in the margins.

But when it comes to the big stuff . . . never.

And claiming that a rock star is my boyfriend: That counts as big stuff.

Luckily, Allison diverted everyone’s attention from me by leaning way over the table and shooting my boyfriend a dazzling smile. “Well, I can’t wait to get to know you better, Dominic.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t luck after all.

Just typical.

Not that Nick seemed to mind. He merely smiled, leaned back in his chair, and ordered the risotto as if he met his fake girlfriend’s relatives on a regular basis.

Well, I could play it cool too.

I was just handing my menu to the waiter when my aunt hissed, “You can’t get the clam chowder bread bowl! That’s at least five hundred calories, Holly! Are you trying to gain weight?”

Oh, yeah, nothing but good times ahead.