Never Sleigh Never, page 9
His gaze ricochets off mine. Leaning away, he tugs at the collar of his charcoal-colored jacket. “Did I? Huh. Weird. I, uh… don’t know why I’d do that. Maybe I was… stretching my neck?” He lowers his shoulders and lifts his head like an ostrich.
“Yeah, maybe that was it.” I nod solemnly. Eyes closed, lips puckered. Classic neck stretch. From the corner of my eye, I sense the heavy weight of the entire diner on us as they enjoy their lunch, including a couple of the Gigis. Great. By dinner, I’ll be pregnant with Logan’s love child.
“Are you sure I tried to kiss you?” he asks.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Are you sure you want to pretend you don’t remember?”
“No!” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I just can’t imagine I’d… do that with you.”
“Because I’m unkissable?” I arch a brow. This man doesn’t need a shovel. He’s doing a pretty good job of digging his own grave.
“I mean—someone probably wants to kiss you.” His shoulders drop. “Maybe I thought you were someone else. It was dark.”
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “That must be it. I mean, I would have punched you in the face if you had done it anyway, so it’s probably better you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d be sporting a black eye today.”
He nods. “Great. We can pretend it never happened. Nothing really happened anyway.”
What an asshole. He totally remembers the almost-kiss. He wouldn’t have rambled on for so long about nothing happening. I thought maybe Logan was a different person, more grown up, but I was wrong. So fucking wrong.
Ever so conveniently, his phone rings. He glances at the screen. “Sorry, I need to take this—construction worker for the carnival. It’s almost set up.”
I purse my lips together and give him a tight nod.
“I’ll see you around.” He turns and presses his phone to his ear as he exits the diner.
“Hopefully not,” I mumble. His carnival. I lost sight of his carnival that’s trying to ruin my festival. Eye on the prize, Brie. Don’t let yourself get distracted by a guy. Especially one who’s as big of an asshole as Logan fucking Crawford.
Four hours later, I’m sitting on my floor, cross-legged with half a dozen open binders surrounding me, the whooshing sound of paper flipping fills the quiet room. A sharp knock on my door slices through the silence, startling me. Climbing to my feet, I peer out the closed curtain, and Willa’s standing on my doorstep. I twist the knob and pull the door open.
She barrels in with a hug. “Oh good, you’re not dead.”
“Not yet, anyway.” Turning around, I take my place back on the floor.
“I tried calling you like twenty times. I never got an answer, so I thought I’d do a wellness check.”
I wave my hand over the scattered binders around me. “I’ve been drowning in town bylaws.”
Her gaze wanders over my living room floor. “Are you supposed to take those from the town hall?”
“Probably not, but I’ll return them when I’m done.”
“So what’s all this research for?” She takes a seat on the couch to my left.
I flip through pages without glancing at Willa. “His carnival can’t be legal. I’ve scoured all the town’s records, and there’s nothing that shows he pulled any permits, got any required licensing, nothing. There’s no way he can have a carnival in Mount Holly, and I’m going to prove it.”
“Good luck with that, Nancy Drew.”
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to save her festival.”
“Is it bad to have a little competition?” she asks.
Mid-page flip, I pause to glare at her. She shrugs. “It’s not that I don’t want competition. I’m fine with competition. I just don’t want it to be Logan. It’s ingrained in his DNA. He sees a line and sprints through the ribbon. I’m simply sprinting too.”
Willa tilts her head. “If it were anyone else, I doubt you’d be this frothy. Instead of working against each other, don’t you think you would gain more success working together?”
“Is that what you said when Breakfast To Go tried to open right off the freeway?” I quirk an eyebrow.
“Big difference. That’s a franchise. No one wants a chain restaurant in a small town. People want local charm and ambiance, not rubbery egg patties on barely toasted, unseasoned English muffins. My food is fresh.” She shakes her head. “It’s completely different. Logan’s not franchising a carnival.”
“At this rate, anything is possible. Either way, I need to stop it before it even starts.”
“Alright, well good luck with that. I have to go meet Mason. He needs my help with paint schemes for his bedroom.”
I bite back a grin. “Or it’s just an excuse to hang out with you in his bedroom.”
“We’re not sixteen. No excuses necessary. Either way, we’re best friends. We hang out. Help each other when needed.”
I raise a questioning eyebrow. “I didn’t know best friends also spoon each other while lying down on the couch.”
Pink washes over her cheeks. “We were watching a movie. It got late. I was tired. I got cold, and his body is a natural radiator. Are you jealous? Do you want to cuddle?” She hoists her legs onto the couch, lies down, and pats the cushion in front of her.
A laugh bursts out of me. “Rain check.”
“Don’t say I never offered.” She drops her feet to the floor and sits up. “Now I regret ever mentioning it to you.”
“I’m only pointing out the obvious.” Now I feel like a jerk for not telling her about the almost-kiss. But is it really that important? Logan wants to pretend as if nothing happened anyway, so it’s irrelevant. I drop my gaze to the papers in front of me and continue scanning. “Ah! Found it! Sections forty-five to forty-seven. Special events. City limits allow only one similar event at a time unless permission and a specialty permit were previously acquired. Time for him to pack up his carnival and hightail it out of Mount Holly.” My lips curve into a wide smile. “He’s done none of this.”
Willa laughs. “You’re going to have fun telling him that, aren’t you?”
“Oh, I’m making it this year’s Christmas card.” I tried to be nice for a whole five seconds. Well, you know what? That’s five seconds longer than he actually deserves. If he wants a Christmas war, he’s getting a Christmas war.
Eleven
Mostly Nice. Sometimes Naughty
Logan
Fuck. What did I do last night? Oh, that’s right, I tried to kiss Brie McKenna. In that moment, with her bright brown eyes staring back at mine, I wanted nothing more. I wanted her. Kissing random women wasn’t my goal when I arrived in Mount Holly. But Brie isn’t random. We have decades of… whatever this is. The sharp pain in my temples increases, and I pinch my eyes closed against the throbbing, and, through the fog, I catch a flicker of words—Mostly Nice. Sometimes Naughty. Her keychain. Fuck. Now I’m wondering exactly how much is “sometimes.” Focus, Crawford. I lift my head and wince as pain shoots up my neck. At roughly five a.m., I migrated from the couch to my bed like a wounded moose. Now I’m lying in bed, not feeling any better.
“Daddy!” The patter of feet thump down the hall. Josie bursts through the doorway and jumps onto the end of the bed.
“Hey Peanut.” I inch upright and lean against the headboard, doing my best to keep my hangover under wraps. “Have fun with Grandma?”
“Yes! We went to a craft fair this morning and I got you this.” She holds up a little wood ornament with hockey sticks.
“Wow, that’s pretty cool. Did you unpack your bag?”
“No.”
“How about you do that, and when you’re done, we’ll find the perfect spot to hang it on the tree?”
“Okay.” She crawls up the bed and wraps her arms around my neck. I hug her to my chest. Best. Kid. Ever. She scampers off the bed, dragging her backpack behind her.
A few seconds later, my mom appears in the doorway. “Have fun last night?”
“Something like that.” I scrub both hands over my face.
“I heard you didn’t leave the bar alone.” She lifts a brow.
Fuck. It hasn’t even been twelve hours, and the gossip mill is already turning. Do they ever take a break?
“And judging by the body print in the snowbank, you didn’t arrive home alone.” She flattens me with an unimpressed look. “You know, you should really keep your escapades indoors.”
“There were no escapades.” I sigh. “But duly noted for next time.”
“How is Brie McKenna doing?” She wanders into the room, doing a not-so subtle sweep of the floor beside my bed.
“If you’re looking for someone, you won’t find them.”
As she sits at the end of the bed, a frown etches her face. “Did you kick her out already?”
I roll my eyes. She’s relentless this morning. But it’s also not the first time I’ve tried to hide a girl in my room. There may have been a time or two in high school when I had to get clever with my hiding spots because under the bed and in the closet weren’t cutting it. But now I’m an adult, I shouldn’t have to hide anyone anywhere. “No one got kicked out.”
“But she’s the one you left the bar with?”
Suffocating myself with a pillow sounds more fun than this conversation. I scrub my hands over my scruff-covered cheeks and groan. “She gave me a ride. That’s it.”
Her brows furrow. “Then how did you two end up in the snowbank together? You two always seemed like an unlikely pair. You spent most of your childhood bickering. However, I could see how the connection would grow.” She nods as if she’s agreeing with herself.
I’m sure she’s seconds away from making wedding plans. “Look, Mom,” I sit up, squaring my shoulders, “there is no connection.”
“Is that why your eyes lit up brighter than the town Christmas tree as soon as I mentioned her name?”
Damn her for being so intuitive. Can I blame the glossy eyes on the hangover?
She squeezes my leg through the blanket; her soft smile turning serious. “It’s okay to find love again, honey. It’s been three years.”
Me and Brie? There’s no chance. Even though part of me is curious about the possibility. Then there’s Brooke. My dead wife, who I spent fourteen years with.
“You don’t have to forget,” Mom adds. “But there’s nothing wrong with moving on.”
I press my lips together. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll consider that.”
“Alright.” She pushes off the bed. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Hey Mom?” She stops and spins around. “Thanks for watching Josie.”
“Anytime. I’m glad you’re back in town so I can spend more time with her. Also, John called me. He’s already at the carnival helping with the finishing touches on the ice rink.”
“Thanks.”
After Josie and I hung the ornament on the tree, I popped some ibuprofen, guzzled down a bottle of water, and drove to the carnival. When not in school, Josie likes to help when she can. It makes her feel important. Josie helps John with some decorations, well, more like bossing him around about garland symmetry. Brooke would’ve loved that—both the garland and the bossing.
By lunchtime, I leave Josie with John and head to town to grab lunch for everyone. It’s mostly a skeleton crew on weekends, but a few of them have nothing better to do, so they’d rather collect overtime, and I’ll gladly take the help. I park my truck outside the Jolly Biscuit and climb out as an icy gust of wind blows past me. For a brief moment, it eases the pounding in my head and keeps all thoughts of Brie at bay.
As I approach the large front window of the diner, I peer inside and freeze. Her hair is a dark ribbon down her back, resting on a cream-colored sweater that falls off her shoulder. It’s exactly like the sweater from our coffee shop run-in. Except this time, she’s missing the red underwear. My lips twitch into a smile. Then everything from last night slams into me. Fuck. Her weight on top of me in the snowbank. Inches away from a kiss I shouldn’t want. Through the window, I see her throw her head back in laughter. I can almost hear it. Sweet. Infectious. As if she doesn’t have a care in the world. And for a second, I hate that I’m the reason her laughter usually comes with an eye roll. It’s Mount Holly. Unless I become a hermit, we’ll always run into each other. Might as well get the awkwardness out of the way.
“Logan, it’s so nice to see you.” Mrs. Whitman rests a soft, wrinkled hand on my forearm, interrupting my thoughts.
I shift my gaze from the window to the older woman, catching a subtle scent of baby powder. “Good afternoon, Doris. How are you?”
“I’m just dandy. I’m meeting the gals for an afternoon lunch and chat.”
Which really means it’s time to unleash all the juicy gossip.
“Are you going to come in, or are you going to wait till you turn into a popsicle?” My gaze drifts from Doris to Brie. She reaches for the door handle, but I step behind her and pull it open.
“Let me get that for you.”
“Always such a gentleman.” She winks and breezes by me, heading straight to her waiting table.
The aroma of butter and maple syrup wafts around me, replacing the powdery accords. For half a second, I forget the part where I almost kissed Brie last night. It was nothing. It meant nothing. I got caught up in the moment. That’s all. Maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll convince myself it’s true.
I fall in line behind her, working up the confidence to speak. I’m not the nervous type, but something about Brie turns my palms into slip-n-slides. She spins and—whump—walks right into my chest.
“Whoa.” My hands grip her biceps. “We need to stop running into each other, literally. But… I’m glad to see you.” Her face is like a poker table, devoid of any expression. Does she still hate me? Hate me extra? Or have we graduated to tolerate with caution? With standing so close to her, my brain votes kiss her, which is exactly why I release her like she’s a hot stovetop. “Can we talk for a minute?”
That went… spectacularly not to plan. Probably because there was no plan. Instead, I used Josie’s call as a fake emergency and bolted like a coward. Brie discombobulates all my coherent thoughts. If she didn’t hate me before that conversation, she certainly does now. It’s for the best. I’m not here to fall in love. I’m here to give Josie a better life and leave a lasting legacy in Brooke’s honor.
Leaning forward over the steering wheel, I rake my hands through my hair. Locking myself away and becoming a recluse isn’t looking so bad. A knock rattles my window. Glancing to my left, Willa stands on the other side holding two plastic bags full of takeout. Shit. Lunch. I roll down the window.
“In your hasty getaway, you forgot these. I didn’t make a bunch of food just for you to order and dash.”
“Sorry.” I grab the bags from her and set them on my passenger seat. Digging in my pocket, I pull out some cash and pass it to her. “This should cover it. And keep the change for the delivery service.”
Her shoulders hunch as she runs her hands up and down her arms. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on between you and Brie, but whatever it is, don’t hurt my best friend. It hasn’t been easy for her to get where she is, and then the added stress of the festival is keeping her on edge.”
I give her a tight-lipped nod. “I can say with full certainty that my being in town isn’t creating a stress-free holiday.”
She smiles at me. “Just play nice, okay?”
“Got it. Thanks again for always taking my lunch orders for my crew.”
“Thanks for the business. I’m going to get back in. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Bye, Willa.”
The next morning, I’m up before the sun, mostly because I couldn’t sleep, which is becoming a more common occurrence as of late. The common denominator: Brie. By the time I pull into the carnival grounds, the sun has barely breached the horizon. Luckily, my mom’s an early riser, so she came over early to see Josie off to school. A couple hours to myself while I add the finishing touches to the s’mores house Josie wanted is exactly what I need. No interruptions. Just a man with his thoughts. Which might not be the best thing, either. I clip the battery onto the drill. The hum of the power tool mixing with the crisp, dead air of winter is meditative, until tires crunching over gravel ruins my zen. I set down the electric drill and step out from the s’mores hut. Bright headlights shine directly at me like an interrogation. Shielding my eyes, a black figure steps out of the SUV and moves in front of the headlights. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the new light. Brie. Did I just manifest her?
She comes to a halt only a few feet away from me. She crosses her arms over her chest, papers clutched in her hand. “You need to shut down your carnival.”
Not the good morning I was hoping for. I sigh. “Not this again,” I mutter under my breath. “What did I do now?”
“I’m already in charge of the Holly Jolly Festival in Mount Holly—”
I mimic her stance. “So you’re saying you have a monopoly on the Christmas festivities that happen in Mount Holly?”
“No. I’m saying according to the bylaws—sections forty-five to forty-seven to be exact—there can only be one holiday event within Mount Holly city limits. And I already have all the permits for mine.” She uncrosses her arms and waves a stack of papers in my face. “So I’m sorry, actually, not sorry—but you will just have to take your carnival elsewhere.”
I rip the papers out of her hand and skim them. She’s wearing a smug like it’s custom-tailored. When I’m finished, I hand the papers back to her and chuckle.
Her jaw ticks. “Are you laughing at the bylaws of Mount Holly? You can take it up with the mayor, but it’ll take weeks, if not months, to get anything settled, and Christmas will be long gone by then.”
“You see that fence post?” I point to my right, about fifty yards away. Her gaze follows the imaginary line. “That is the town boundary line. And if you can’t tell, my carnival is just north of that line, which means I am not within Mount Holly’s city limits.”
