Never Sleigh Never, page 13
I’d do anything for her, even if it includes crossing enemy lines.
After dropping Josie off at school, I head to the carnival grounds. Surprisingly, we’re ahead of schedule, and a soft opening the weekend before Christmas looks promising.
My boots kick up the newly fallen snow as I meander down the path toward Santa’s hut. Brooke always wanted me to play Santa at her carnival. I already have the suit since she bought it for me for putting presents under the tree for Josie. Brooke wanted authenticity in case Josie snuck out of her room. The best thing about being dad and playing Santa: I convinced her Santa likes English toffee cookies, not chocolate chip.
My gaze glosses over the reindeer, and I freeze. One of these things is not like the others. Why doesn’t Rudolph have a head? I frown and scan the ground. It wasn’t windy last night, so if it broke, it wouldn’t have blown too far. No head in sight, but faint prints emerge from the newly fallen powder. I step into the snow, pull away, and compare the two prints. If I had to guess, it’s about a size seven. Beside the boot prints, something catches the light. I crouch and pluck out a silver keychain. Mostly Nice. Sometimes Naughty. The corners of my lips twitch into a smile. It’s the same key chain from the night Brie drove me home from the bar. My thumb brushes over the sharp metal of a bent end. It must have fallen off. Most people would be mad having someone trespassing on their property, but not me. It only means revenge. I casually do a couple of laps around the festival grounds, planning my attack and confirming no one is around.
This isn’t the same Brie from high school. She’s braver, fiercer, and fuck, I like it. Our back-and-forth Christmas pranks may be childish, but it’s keeping my head occupied with things that aren’t Brooke.
I roll my truck to a stop near the front entrance of the Holly Jolly Festival. A snowman for a reindeer head seems appropriate, and I spot the perfect victim. Leaving the truck running, I jump out and stand in front of a plastic snowman holding a Welcome to the Holly Jolly Festival sign. “You’re coming with me Frosty.” I bear-hug the snowman around the torso and lift. The black top hat slides off the head and lands in the snow. I bend over, pick it up, and place the snowman in the cab of my truck. Once in place, I jump back inside and set the top hat on my passenger seat. I peel away, the tires kicking up snow on my exit.
My phone rings through my truck speakers with an incoming phone call. Mason flashes at the top of the dashboard screen.
“Hey, man,” I answer. “What’s up?”
“Are you close to the fire station?”
“Yeah. I’m only a few blocks away.”
“Can you pick me up and give me a ride to Willa’s?”
“Sure. I’ll be there in a few.”
At the fire station, Mason pulls open the door and lifts the hat before climbing in. He holds it out to me, brows pinched together. “Why do you have a top hat in your truck?”
“It belongs to the snowman.” I take the hat from him and toss it behind me.
He glances over his shoulder. “Next question. Why is Frosty hanging out in your back seat?”
Frosty’s black, beady eyes stare back at me in the rearview mirror. “Collateral.”
“Do I want to know?”
“She not only decapitated my reindeer but also stole the head.”
“When you say she, I’m guessing Brie?”
“Yep. So I stole her snowman.” I merge onto Frostpine Road. Frosty wobbles and grins at me in the rearview mirror, unbothered by the morality of it all.
A throaty chuckle escapes him. “And you’re going to chauffeur it around?”
“For now,” I deadpan. Mostly because my plan doesn’t extend past stealing her snowman.
“Don’t you think this is getting a bit much?”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “She started it. I’m just putting an end to it.”
“I doubt stealing her snowman is putting an end to it. This sounds more like some weird foreplay you two enjoy.”
“Have you ever been in a Christmas war before?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t say I have.”
“Then if I want your advice, I’ll ask for it.”
Another deep laugh comes from next to me. “Alright. I’ll just sit back and enjoy the entertainment.”
I don’t back down from a challenge. I never did while on the ice, and I certainly won’t do it against the Ice Queen herself.
Seventeen
A Festive Truce
Brie
Before I have both feet inside the door of Sip and Sleigh, Sloane greets me with a smirk. “What is this I hear about you decapitating deer now?”
“Shhh.” I scan the shop for eavesdroppers. I lean in and whisper, “Willa told you?”
“Yeah, she stopped in here earlier for her morning supply of muffins and spilled the tea.”
“I’ll have you know it wasn’t a real reindeer! Just a light-up one. And it was an accident that blossomed into the perfect opportunity for revenge.”
She folds her arms and pops her hip. “So you stole the reindeer head. It seems a little passive-aggressive instead of talking it out.”
“Stop being the voice of reason,” I whine. I cross my arms over my chest and pout like a five-year-old. “He started it.”
“How?”
I drop my hands to my sides. “By showing up in town, thinking he’s the king of Christmas because he’s Logan Crawford, who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.” I flutter my hands. “Oh, look, I’m a famous hockey player who’s not only charming and charismatic but who’s defied Father Time. And somehow, he’s only managed to become more attractive.” Shit. Did I just say that out loud? Spew some more words to cover it up! “It’s not happening while I’m here. The Christmas crown is mine, and he doesn’t get that title. Not this time.” If people weren’t eavesdropping before, they certainly heard me now.
“You think about him a lot for someone you don’t like,” she sings.
I glare at her. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours. Always yours.” She passes me a coffee and a cranberry lemonade muffin on a plate.
“Thank you. I’m going to take a seat and wait for Lauren.”
Half a muffin later, Lauren breezes in, cheeks pink from the cold. “Sorry! Brad was blocking Mistletoe Street. Just… vibing without a care in the world.”
“He’s very unapologetic about wasting people’s time,” I say, pushing an open folder between us. The Holly Jolly budget stares back at me. Mocking me. I will show them. When Brie McKenna wants something, she gets it.
“One thing the Holly Jolly Festival is missing is an ice-skating rink. Now I figure if we—”
“An ice-skating rink?” she squeaks. “Is that even in the budget, let alone reasonable to get it done in time?”
“I’ve crunched a few numbers, and it’s totally doable.” Mostly, I said to hell with the budget; we have to make it happen for the future of the Holly Jolly Festival and for my future event coordinator position. “If we eliminate a few of the inflatables. And the Santa bounce house. Do kids even like those anymore? I think they’d enjoy an ice rink much more. Only one tree is necessary. We can shave a few minutes off the firework display. That’ll surely save us a little money.”
“But I don’t think it’ll be enough for an ice rink.”
Dammit. “Maybe I could offer my services for extra money for an ice rink?”
Sloane appears with a coffee for Lauren. “You’re going to prostitute yourself out for an ice rink?” She shrugs. “Well, I’ve seen people do a lot more for a lot less.”
“No! Not sexual services, though I bet that would get me the money faster.” My brows raise at the idea. But this would also require me to shave my legs. “Business services. Advice. Plans. Strategy.”
“Right,” Sloane says. “Because nothing says fiscal responsibility like ‘Pay me so I can blow up my budget.’”
“Ugh. Stop throwing snow on my sunshine.” I deflate. “Fine. Cross that off the list.”
Lauren flips through a few pages. “Even with the suggested cuts, the budget is still nearing the cap. The ice rink might have to wait another year.”
“Where is your where there’s a will, there’s a way?” I slap the manila folder closed. “Who cares about the budget? Budgets are just meant to be broken, anyway.”
“I don’t think that’s what the saying means,” Lauren adds. She taps her finger against her lips as seconds pass. “I got it!”
My brows raise with optimism. “You’re going to prostitute yourself out for the festival.”
She shakes her head, her blonde ponytail swishing behind her. “Um. No. But this is better! My friend Eli works as a conservation officer for the Department of Natural Resources, and he told me about a new trail by Winterberry Creek. It would make the perfect place to organize a sleigh ride. It would give the DNR an opportunity to showcase the new trail, along with some educational programming to the community. I’m sure it could all be done with a minimal budget.”
I nod along. This could work. I bet Logan doesn’t have a sleigh ride. “Yes! I love it! It will be an amazing addition to the festival along with an ice rink.” I stare off into the distance. “I can picture it now. Skaters could leave the rink and take a winter wonderland sleigh ride. The townsfolk will love it.”
“No. This is in lieu of the ice rink. To save the budget.”
Resting my elbows on the table, I lean in. “My job and promotion are hanging on by a strand of tinsel, which in turn, also means your job is on the line. Budgets are currently out of the equation. We need this year’s Holly Jolly Festival to be the best festival the state, no, the country has ever seen. And that’s not going to be possible if we follow a budget. We’re competing against Logan Crawford. If he has an ice rink, we have an ice rink.” Lauren’s eyes widen to the size of giant Christmas ornaments as she slinks back in her chair, afraid to fight me anymore on the budget, and that’s okay with me. The less resistance, the better. “But I do love your sleigh ride idea. Can you talk to your friend and make that happen?”
Her head jerks up and down. “Yes. I’ll get right on it.”
My phone chimes with an incoming message. Willa’s name pops up in preview mode.
Willa
Have you been to the festival grounds yet?
I unlock my phone and read the message again.
Brie
No, I haven’t. Going there right after we leave the coffee shop. Why? Is there something I should be concerned about?
Three dots dance on the screen. And then stop. And start again.
Willa
Mason told me that Logan paid a brief visit to the festival last night and took a snowman hostage.
My phone tumbles out of my hand and crashes onto the table with a loud bang. I snatch it up. My simmering rage turns into a blistering wave. My thumbs slam against the keys.
Brie
He STOLE my snowman?
Willa
Yeah. The one out front. A deer head for a snowman.
A collection of hi and hey Logans fills the coffee shop. This guy gets a welcoming party every time he enters a room. He’s about to get a party from me, and his party favor will be my fist to his face. My chair scrapes harshly against the floor as I shove away from the table. As I near the counter, the coffee mugs next to the coffee machine rattle with the force of my frustration. Logan’s gaze drifts to mine. Damn him for looking so hot. When I’m only a foot away, his clean, manly scent wafts around me. And damn him for smelling so good too. Focus. I come to a halt, the toes of my boots inches from his.
“I want my snowman back, Logan. You have it, I know. Mason told Willa, and she told me.”
He leans in a fraction, all calm dimples. “I only took it because you took my reindeer.”
“False. I didn’t take the whole reindeer, only the head.”
“You know, those reindeer aren’t cheap.”
“Yes, I’m quite aware of their cost.” And super jealous that you have them.
“Would you have preferred if I had only taken the head of your snowman?” He raises a perfectly sculpted brow.
Stop admiring his eyebrows or getting lost in the brown flecks that swirl in his green irises. “No. But you can’t just go around stealing things.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk.” His mouth twitches. “By the way, how was your date with Simon?”
I rear my head back. “Date with Simon? What are you talking about?” Why is he so concerned about who I date? And why does he think I’m dating Simon.
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “The other night. He asked you out. You hugged.” His casual tone isn’t fooling anybody.
A giggle bubbles up, threatening to escape. Me and Simon? Hell no. Plus, I’m not his type. But Logan asking about it is more telling than anything. Clearly, the idea of me and Simon dating gets under his skin, so I’m going to play into the ruse. I press a hand to my chest like a soap-opera heroine. “Oh. That night.” I give him my sweetest smile. “Yes. Simon and I are dating.”
His dimple falters.
Sloane slides a white pastry box between us like a referee tossing in a puck. “Here’s your taste-test cookies.”
After a several-beat stare off, Logan breaks first. I win! Take that!
He rests a hand on the box. “Thanks,” he says, voice a little gruffer than usual. “Based on the smell, I already know it’s going to be a tough choice of which ones to pick for the carnival.” He pats his jacket pocket and then his jeans. “I forgot my wallet in my truck. I’ll go grab it so I can pay you.”
Sloane waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. Next time.”
“No. I can’t do that. I’ll be two seconds.” Logan spins on his heels and strolls out of the coffee shop.
The bell jingles as he leaves. I’m two parts irritated, one part… appreciating the view. Focus. I narrow my gaze at Sloane. “What the hell? You’re providing cookies for his carnival? Can’t you see he’s trying to drive a wedge between me and my friends? He wants your business, so you’re obligated to take his side.”
“No one is taking sides. If you had seen the number of zeros on the contract he gave me, you wouldn’t have turned it down either. I’m only providing the cookies.” She holds up her hands. “I drew the line at running the booth. Everyone loves my cookies. Not only is it great exposure for the coffee shop but the extra money will help me buy a new espresso machine.” When I don’t release my glare, she continues to soothe my concerns. “Don’t worry, I’m still providing cookies for your festival like I do every year.”
As much as I want to be mad at her, I can’t because, like Willa, I’m sure she’s going to have her best year yet because of Logan. I’m thrilled that this is all working out for her. For me, on the other hand, everything is crumbling to the ground. “It’s business now, until he steals you all away. Like my snowman.”
“The only wedge is the one you’re creating with this ridiculous feud. In fact, this Christmas war needs to stop. You’re tearing the town apart, forcing us to choose sides.”
“No, we’re not. Stop being dramatic.”
“Okay, fine.” She throws her hands up in the air. “I’m just sick of the gossip. You’re the will-they-won’t-they couple of the century with all the sexual tension that radiates from you. Maybe you need to bang it out.”
I shake my head. “No one said that.” Even though after the almost-kiss, it’s crossed my mind a time or two. Hate sex is a thing, right? If not, we could make it a thing. Shove a paper bag over his head and go to pound town. Goosebumps prickle my skin at the thought.
“I’m saying it now. Plus, I need new gossip. I’m over this.”
The bell jingles on Logan’s return. Rays of sunshine illuminate behind him like a halo. He slides his hand through his hair, straightening the strands at the top of his head. Why can’t I tear my gaze away?
When he reaches the counter, he hands a check to Sloane. “I got it.”
“Thanks.” Sloane smiles at him. “One more request.”
“Sure, anything,” Logan replies.
“This war you two have,” she points between Logan and me, “needs to end for the sanity of everyone in Mount Holly. You two need to apologize to each other and arrange an exchange of stolen goods.” Neither of us says anything. In fact, we avoid eye contact. “Okay. If you two don’t apologize, I’ll rip up this check and you don’t get any cookies.” She glares at Logan.
I lift my chin. Yes! I beam. My best friend going all benevolent tyrant on his ass. Go Sloane.
Her gaze swings to me. “Oh, you’re apologizing as well. Otherwise, same deal.”
I deflate. No more benevolent.
“Logan,” Sloane says, “you need to apologize for stealing her snowman.”
“Fine.” Logan sighs before shifting his gaze to me. “Brie, I’m sorry for stealing your snowman.”
“Apology accepted,” I say primly.
The three of us stand in silence until Logan clears his throat. Sloane glares at me and nods toward Logan.
“I really shouldn’t have to apologize. I did it in retaliation. He started it.” Sloane crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me like she’s scolding a five-year-old. “Fine. I’m-sorry-for-decapitating-your-reindeer-and-stealing-its-head,” I mumble.
“No. A genuine apology. Now you have to look him in the eye.” When I say nothing, she adds, “Go on.”
My jaw clenches and I lift my chin to meet Logan’s eyes. “I’m sorry for decapitating your reindeer and stealing its head.”
“Great!” Sloane claps her hands together. “Now that’s settled. We’ll arrange a drop-off and pickup of the stolen goods here at 8 p.m.”
“Uh. I can’t do tonight,” Logan says. “I have a movie night with Josie.”
“Okay. Tomorrow night,” Sloane replies.
“I’ve got the parade committee till… who knows,” I say.
After dropping Josie off at school, I head to the carnival grounds. Surprisingly, we’re ahead of schedule, and a soft opening the weekend before Christmas looks promising.
My boots kick up the newly fallen snow as I meander down the path toward Santa’s hut. Brooke always wanted me to play Santa at her carnival. I already have the suit since she bought it for me for putting presents under the tree for Josie. Brooke wanted authenticity in case Josie snuck out of her room. The best thing about being dad and playing Santa: I convinced her Santa likes English toffee cookies, not chocolate chip.
My gaze glosses over the reindeer, and I freeze. One of these things is not like the others. Why doesn’t Rudolph have a head? I frown and scan the ground. It wasn’t windy last night, so if it broke, it wouldn’t have blown too far. No head in sight, but faint prints emerge from the newly fallen powder. I step into the snow, pull away, and compare the two prints. If I had to guess, it’s about a size seven. Beside the boot prints, something catches the light. I crouch and pluck out a silver keychain. Mostly Nice. Sometimes Naughty. The corners of my lips twitch into a smile. It’s the same key chain from the night Brie drove me home from the bar. My thumb brushes over the sharp metal of a bent end. It must have fallen off. Most people would be mad having someone trespassing on their property, but not me. It only means revenge. I casually do a couple of laps around the festival grounds, planning my attack and confirming no one is around.
This isn’t the same Brie from high school. She’s braver, fiercer, and fuck, I like it. Our back-and-forth Christmas pranks may be childish, but it’s keeping my head occupied with things that aren’t Brooke.
I roll my truck to a stop near the front entrance of the Holly Jolly Festival. A snowman for a reindeer head seems appropriate, and I spot the perfect victim. Leaving the truck running, I jump out and stand in front of a plastic snowman holding a Welcome to the Holly Jolly Festival sign. “You’re coming with me Frosty.” I bear-hug the snowman around the torso and lift. The black top hat slides off the head and lands in the snow. I bend over, pick it up, and place the snowman in the cab of my truck. Once in place, I jump back inside and set the top hat on my passenger seat. I peel away, the tires kicking up snow on my exit.
My phone rings through my truck speakers with an incoming phone call. Mason flashes at the top of the dashboard screen.
“Hey, man,” I answer. “What’s up?”
“Are you close to the fire station?”
“Yeah. I’m only a few blocks away.”
“Can you pick me up and give me a ride to Willa’s?”
“Sure. I’ll be there in a few.”
At the fire station, Mason pulls open the door and lifts the hat before climbing in. He holds it out to me, brows pinched together. “Why do you have a top hat in your truck?”
“It belongs to the snowman.” I take the hat from him and toss it behind me.
He glances over his shoulder. “Next question. Why is Frosty hanging out in your back seat?”
Frosty’s black, beady eyes stare back at me in the rearview mirror. “Collateral.”
“Do I want to know?”
“She not only decapitated my reindeer but also stole the head.”
“When you say she, I’m guessing Brie?”
“Yep. So I stole her snowman.” I merge onto Frostpine Road. Frosty wobbles and grins at me in the rearview mirror, unbothered by the morality of it all.
A throaty chuckle escapes him. “And you’re going to chauffeur it around?”
“For now,” I deadpan. Mostly because my plan doesn’t extend past stealing her snowman.
“Don’t you think this is getting a bit much?”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “She started it. I’m just putting an end to it.”
“I doubt stealing her snowman is putting an end to it. This sounds more like some weird foreplay you two enjoy.”
“Have you ever been in a Christmas war before?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t say I have.”
“Then if I want your advice, I’ll ask for it.”
Another deep laugh comes from next to me. “Alright. I’ll just sit back and enjoy the entertainment.”
I don’t back down from a challenge. I never did while on the ice, and I certainly won’t do it against the Ice Queen herself.
Seventeen
A Festive Truce
Brie
Before I have both feet inside the door of Sip and Sleigh, Sloane greets me with a smirk. “What is this I hear about you decapitating deer now?”
“Shhh.” I scan the shop for eavesdroppers. I lean in and whisper, “Willa told you?”
“Yeah, she stopped in here earlier for her morning supply of muffins and spilled the tea.”
“I’ll have you know it wasn’t a real reindeer! Just a light-up one. And it was an accident that blossomed into the perfect opportunity for revenge.”
She folds her arms and pops her hip. “So you stole the reindeer head. It seems a little passive-aggressive instead of talking it out.”
“Stop being the voice of reason,” I whine. I cross my arms over my chest and pout like a five-year-old. “He started it.”
“How?”
I drop my hands to my sides. “By showing up in town, thinking he’s the king of Christmas because he’s Logan Crawford, who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.” I flutter my hands. “Oh, look, I’m a famous hockey player who’s not only charming and charismatic but who’s defied Father Time. And somehow, he’s only managed to become more attractive.” Shit. Did I just say that out loud? Spew some more words to cover it up! “It’s not happening while I’m here. The Christmas crown is mine, and he doesn’t get that title. Not this time.” If people weren’t eavesdropping before, they certainly heard me now.
“You think about him a lot for someone you don’t like,” she sings.
I glare at her. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours. Always yours.” She passes me a coffee and a cranberry lemonade muffin on a plate.
“Thank you. I’m going to take a seat and wait for Lauren.”
Half a muffin later, Lauren breezes in, cheeks pink from the cold. “Sorry! Brad was blocking Mistletoe Street. Just… vibing without a care in the world.”
“He’s very unapologetic about wasting people’s time,” I say, pushing an open folder between us. The Holly Jolly budget stares back at me. Mocking me. I will show them. When Brie McKenna wants something, she gets it.
“One thing the Holly Jolly Festival is missing is an ice-skating rink. Now I figure if we—”
“An ice-skating rink?” she squeaks. “Is that even in the budget, let alone reasonable to get it done in time?”
“I’ve crunched a few numbers, and it’s totally doable.” Mostly, I said to hell with the budget; we have to make it happen for the future of the Holly Jolly Festival and for my future event coordinator position. “If we eliminate a few of the inflatables. And the Santa bounce house. Do kids even like those anymore? I think they’d enjoy an ice rink much more. Only one tree is necessary. We can shave a few minutes off the firework display. That’ll surely save us a little money.”
“But I don’t think it’ll be enough for an ice rink.”
Dammit. “Maybe I could offer my services for extra money for an ice rink?”
Sloane appears with a coffee for Lauren. “You’re going to prostitute yourself out for an ice rink?” She shrugs. “Well, I’ve seen people do a lot more for a lot less.”
“No! Not sexual services, though I bet that would get me the money faster.” My brows raise at the idea. But this would also require me to shave my legs. “Business services. Advice. Plans. Strategy.”
“Right,” Sloane says. “Because nothing says fiscal responsibility like ‘Pay me so I can blow up my budget.’”
“Ugh. Stop throwing snow on my sunshine.” I deflate. “Fine. Cross that off the list.”
Lauren flips through a few pages. “Even with the suggested cuts, the budget is still nearing the cap. The ice rink might have to wait another year.”
“Where is your where there’s a will, there’s a way?” I slap the manila folder closed. “Who cares about the budget? Budgets are just meant to be broken, anyway.”
“I don’t think that’s what the saying means,” Lauren adds. She taps her finger against her lips as seconds pass. “I got it!”
My brows raise with optimism. “You’re going to prostitute yourself out for the festival.”
She shakes her head, her blonde ponytail swishing behind her. “Um. No. But this is better! My friend Eli works as a conservation officer for the Department of Natural Resources, and he told me about a new trail by Winterberry Creek. It would make the perfect place to organize a sleigh ride. It would give the DNR an opportunity to showcase the new trail, along with some educational programming to the community. I’m sure it could all be done with a minimal budget.”
I nod along. This could work. I bet Logan doesn’t have a sleigh ride. “Yes! I love it! It will be an amazing addition to the festival along with an ice rink.” I stare off into the distance. “I can picture it now. Skaters could leave the rink and take a winter wonderland sleigh ride. The townsfolk will love it.”
“No. This is in lieu of the ice rink. To save the budget.”
Resting my elbows on the table, I lean in. “My job and promotion are hanging on by a strand of tinsel, which in turn, also means your job is on the line. Budgets are currently out of the equation. We need this year’s Holly Jolly Festival to be the best festival the state, no, the country has ever seen. And that’s not going to be possible if we follow a budget. We’re competing against Logan Crawford. If he has an ice rink, we have an ice rink.” Lauren’s eyes widen to the size of giant Christmas ornaments as she slinks back in her chair, afraid to fight me anymore on the budget, and that’s okay with me. The less resistance, the better. “But I do love your sleigh ride idea. Can you talk to your friend and make that happen?”
Her head jerks up and down. “Yes. I’ll get right on it.”
My phone chimes with an incoming message. Willa’s name pops up in preview mode.
Willa
Have you been to the festival grounds yet?
I unlock my phone and read the message again.
Brie
No, I haven’t. Going there right after we leave the coffee shop. Why? Is there something I should be concerned about?
Three dots dance on the screen. And then stop. And start again.
Willa
Mason told me that Logan paid a brief visit to the festival last night and took a snowman hostage.
My phone tumbles out of my hand and crashes onto the table with a loud bang. I snatch it up. My simmering rage turns into a blistering wave. My thumbs slam against the keys.
Brie
He STOLE my snowman?
Willa
Yeah. The one out front. A deer head for a snowman.
A collection of hi and hey Logans fills the coffee shop. This guy gets a welcoming party every time he enters a room. He’s about to get a party from me, and his party favor will be my fist to his face. My chair scrapes harshly against the floor as I shove away from the table. As I near the counter, the coffee mugs next to the coffee machine rattle with the force of my frustration. Logan’s gaze drifts to mine. Damn him for looking so hot. When I’m only a foot away, his clean, manly scent wafts around me. And damn him for smelling so good too. Focus. I come to a halt, the toes of my boots inches from his.
“I want my snowman back, Logan. You have it, I know. Mason told Willa, and she told me.”
He leans in a fraction, all calm dimples. “I only took it because you took my reindeer.”
“False. I didn’t take the whole reindeer, only the head.”
“You know, those reindeer aren’t cheap.”
“Yes, I’m quite aware of their cost.” And super jealous that you have them.
“Would you have preferred if I had only taken the head of your snowman?” He raises a perfectly sculpted brow.
Stop admiring his eyebrows or getting lost in the brown flecks that swirl in his green irises. “No. But you can’t just go around stealing things.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk.” His mouth twitches. “By the way, how was your date with Simon?”
I rear my head back. “Date with Simon? What are you talking about?” Why is he so concerned about who I date? And why does he think I’m dating Simon.
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “The other night. He asked you out. You hugged.” His casual tone isn’t fooling anybody.
A giggle bubbles up, threatening to escape. Me and Simon? Hell no. Plus, I’m not his type. But Logan asking about it is more telling than anything. Clearly, the idea of me and Simon dating gets under his skin, so I’m going to play into the ruse. I press a hand to my chest like a soap-opera heroine. “Oh. That night.” I give him my sweetest smile. “Yes. Simon and I are dating.”
His dimple falters.
Sloane slides a white pastry box between us like a referee tossing in a puck. “Here’s your taste-test cookies.”
After a several-beat stare off, Logan breaks first. I win! Take that!
He rests a hand on the box. “Thanks,” he says, voice a little gruffer than usual. “Based on the smell, I already know it’s going to be a tough choice of which ones to pick for the carnival.” He pats his jacket pocket and then his jeans. “I forgot my wallet in my truck. I’ll go grab it so I can pay you.”
Sloane waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. Next time.”
“No. I can’t do that. I’ll be two seconds.” Logan spins on his heels and strolls out of the coffee shop.
The bell jingles as he leaves. I’m two parts irritated, one part… appreciating the view. Focus. I narrow my gaze at Sloane. “What the hell? You’re providing cookies for his carnival? Can’t you see he’s trying to drive a wedge between me and my friends? He wants your business, so you’re obligated to take his side.”
“No one is taking sides. If you had seen the number of zeros on the contract he gave me, you wouldn’t have turned it down either. I’m only providing the cookies.” She holds up her hands. “I drew the line at running the booth. Everyone loves my cookies. Not only is it great exposure for the coffee shop but the extra money will help me buy a new espresso machine.” When I don’t release my glare, she continues to soothe my concerns. “Don’t worry, I’m still providing cookies for your festival like I do every year.”
As much as I want to be mad at her, I can’t because, like Willa, I’m sure she’s going to have her best year yet because of Logan. I’m thrilled that this is all working out for her. For me, on the other hand, everything is crumbling to the ground. “It’s business now, until he steals you all away. Like my snowman.”
“The only wedge is the one you’re creating with this ridiculous feud. In fact, this Christmas war needs to stop. You’re tearing the town apart, forcing us to choose sides.”
“No, we’re not. Stop being dramatic.”
“Okay, fine.” She throws her hands up in the air. “I’m just sick of the gossip. You’re the will-they-won’t-they couple of the century with all the sexual tension that radiates from you. Maybe you need to bang it out.”
I shake my head. “No one said that.” Even though after the almost-kiss, it’s crossed my mind a time or two. Hate sex is a thing, right? If not, we could make it a thing. Shove a paper bag over his head and go to pound town. Goosebumps prickle my skin at the thought.
“I’m saying it now. Plus, I need new gossip. I’m over this.”
The bell jingles on Logan’s return. Rays of sunshine illuminate behind him like a halo. He slides his hand through his hair, straightening the strands at the top of his head. Why can’t I tear my gaze away?
When he reaches the counter, he hands a check to Sloane. “I got it.”
“Thanks.” Sloane smiles at him. “One more request.”
“Sure, anything,” Logan replies.
“This war you two have,” she points between Logan and me, “needs to end for the sanity of everyone in Mount Holly. You two need to apologize to each other and arrange an exchange of stolen goods.” Neither of us says anything. In fact, we avoid eye contact. “Okay. If you two don’t apologize, I’ll rip up this check and you don’t get any cookies.” She glares at Logan.
I lift my chin. Yes! I beam. My best friend going all benevolent tyrant on his ass. Go Sloane.
Her gaze swings to me. “Oh, you’re apologizing as well. Otherwise, same deal.”
I deflate. No more benevolent.
“Logan,” Sloane says, “you need to apologize for stealing her snowman.”
“Fine.” Logan sighs before shifting his gaze to me. “Brie, I’m sorry for stealing your snowman.”
“Apology accepted,” I say primly.
The three of us stand in silence until Logan clears his throat. Sloane glares at me and nods toward Logan.
“I really shouldn’t have to apologize. I did it in retaliation. He started it.” Sloane crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me like she’s scolding a five-year-old. “Fine. I’m-sorry-for-decapitating-your-reindeer-and-stealing-its-head,” I mumble.
“No. A genuine apology. Now you have to look him in the eye.” When I say nothing, she adds, “Go on.”
My jaw clenches and I lift my chin to meet Logan’s eyes. “I’m sorry for decapitating your reindeer and stealing its head.”
“Great!” Sloane claps her hands together. “Now that’s settled. We’ll arrange a drop-off and pickup of the stolen goods here at 8 p.m.”
“Uh. I can’t do tonight,” Logan says. “I have a movie night with Josie.”
“Okay. Tomorrow night,” Sloane replies.
“I’ve got the parade committee till… who knows,” I say.
