A Barker Family Christmas (The Barker Triplets 3.50)

“According to the news, it’s over. The roads will be cleared by this afternoon and it’s all good right up until New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh, awesome,” she replied, distracted at the sight of Shane cleaning off his truck. His hair peeked out from underneath his toque, the dark waves touching the tops of his shoulders, and with a few days worth of stubble on his face, mirrored aviators—not to mention the black and blue plaid jacket and faded jeans—he made everything inside her melt all over again.

God, she loved him.

“We’re going to be good,” she said to herself, a smile tugging at her mouth.

“What was that?” Herschel said, eyebrows cocked.

“Nothing,” she said, patting his hand and glancing around the room. The kitchen was spotless. In fact the entire house was spotless, as she’d done nothing else but clean for the past few weeks.

“Betty called when you and Shane were still upstairs.”

Damn. Bobbi frowned glancing at the clock. It was just after nine. “Gramps, you’re just telling me this now? What did she want?”

“Well my sweets, when I saw your smiling face this morning, it was nice, you know?” He winked. “Seeing you happy. Praying that there wouldn’t be anymore of that endless muttering.”

“Muttering?”

“You mutter when you’re upset.”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” he replied with a chuckle. “It was nice to see your smile is all.”

“Okay,” Bobbi said slowly. This can’t be good.

“And I thought that maybe it would be nice to see that smile at least as long as it took for me to eat my bacon and eggs.”

Shit. “Gramps, what did she say?”

Her grandfather’s face took on a pained expression and Bobbi had a feeling that whatever it was he was keeping from her wasn’t going to be good.

“Promise me you won’t get mad.”

Okay. This really wasn’t going to be good.

“Gramps,” she said, a note of warning in her voice.

“Betty said something about cancelling the caterer because the guy was a complete ass, and she didn’t like his food suggestions anyway.”

Bobbi swore under her breath and gritted her teeth.

“She said that she’s sorry because they were your suggestions but she hopes you’ll understand. Said something about mushroom canapés—that they weren’t her thing.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What are they anyway?”

“What are what?” Bobbi snapped, more sharply than she should of, but honestly, what the hell was Betty thinking?

“Canapés? What are they?”

“They’re pastries and they’re delicious.” Bobbi loved canapés.

“And she doesn’t like shrimp either.”

“Lovely.” If Betty were here with her in the kitchen, Bobbi would have shoved a truckload of shrimp down her sister’s throat.