Page 20 of Mistletoe and Mischief

Jasmine.

She waves. Dammit. With a sigh of resignation, I pull back into the parking space. Irritation boils inside of me as I turn off the engine and step out of the car. My feet refuse to carry me further.She detours from her path to the food truck to where I’m leaning against my car.

If she plans on having me tell my friends that she’s done with them, she’s in for a rude surprise.

Stilted pleasantries appropriate for our incredibly tangled situation are all I can muster.

I say, “Let me make this easy. I tried to warn them that you don’t do commitments. It’s not my fault they didn’t listen, or that you still freak out over talk of relationships. You’re going to have to tell them yourself.”

Jasmine’s brow furrows. “What? I’m not ending things with them.”

Now I’m confused. “If you’re not breaking up with them, what do you need me for?”

She fidgets with the cuffs on her jacket, avoiding my gaze. “I want you to be a part of...”

She worries her lower lip, finally meeting my eyes. There’s a vulnerability there that I haven’t seen in a long time. Not since the night I proposed and she broke up with me.

“Part of what?” The harshness of my tone betrays my inability to move on from her.

“Trent… I’m sorry about—”

“Relationship, Jasmine.” I scoff, shaking my head. “The word you still can’t say is relationship.”

Her lips press into a thin line. “It’s not a relationship. Not yet, anyway. It’s just a contract.”

“Right, the contract,” I repeat flatly. “For what, exactly?”

She takes a deep breath. “For spending time together. Getting to know each other. Seeing where things go.”

Normal people call that a relationship.

I stare at her, trying not to let my broken heart make me say something I’ll regret. I still love her. Although, I’m fully awarethat the contract stipulates no commitment, I prod. Has she let her guard down at all? “So you’re considering a relationship?”

She shrugs, but there’s a hopefulness in her eyes that I can’t ignore. “Maybe. I don’t know. But it feels different this time, Trent. I want to see where it goes. And I want you to be a part of it.”

Twelve

Jasmine

My heart races from the adrenaline of public speaking. The crowd’s applause, which seems louder and more enthusiastic than it was for any of the other semi-finalists, should comfort me. The approval that should fill me with pride.

The gently falling snow against the dark sky adds to the excitement surrounding me.

But my heart has shifted. Winning the Single, Savvy, and Successful Sirens contest no longer feels like the most important thing to me.

My eyes are drawn to three large figures standing off to the side. Blake, Cole, and Landon, my... what, exactly? Lovers?

Their stone-cold expressions are a stark contrast to the beaming smiles surrounding them. The men are focused solely on me. A shiver runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the chilly air.

I maintain my best smile and nod appreciatively as the crowd continues to cheer for my bikini barista franchise proposal. Stepping down from the small platform at the podium, I shake hands and make my way through the sea of well-wishers.

But my mind is elsewhere, replaying Trent’s frustration. The way he just drove off when I asked if he’d join our contract. What was I thinking?

Did he tell his roommates about our conversation? About my frightened reaction to his marriage proposal two years ago? About how I asked him to join our arrangement, only to have him show me how much it hurts to have someone you care about walk away?

Unease washes over me. I’d told the guys about SSSS, about my goals. They know I want to stay single and successful. So why do they look so disappointed?

I force myself to focus on the supporters applauding my plan, accepting their congratulations with practiced grace. But I can’t shake the feeling of those three pairs of eyes boring into me, or the nagging doubt that maybe Trent was right. I’m going to break their hearts too.

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