Page 7 of Flirting with the Scrooge

With a smug smile on his face, he digs into the brown paper bag, pulling out a perfectly baked blueberry scone and opens wide for a giant bite. A few seconds pass as he chews. “This is so good. You should have gotten here sooner,” he says around a mouthful of crumbs. “Want some?” He holds the freshly bitten scone toward me.

I narrow my eyes and snarl my lip. “No. I’ll pass.” I return my attention back to the barista, flashing her a friendly smile. “Just the coffee then.”

“I have an Americano for… Connor,” a male, maybe in his early twenties, yells. The scrooge raises his hand and strolls to the counter to collect his coffee. The barista’s eyes widen in surprise. “Wait. Are you… Connor Ja—”

“No.” His voice is stern as he rips the coffee from his hands and storms his way toward the exit, dodging and weaving his way between customers. He shoves the door open so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t snap off the hinges. Then he stomps out, leaving the entire coffee shop, including me, perplexed about what just happened.

Well, that was… odd. At least now I have a name to the face. Connor. Though I much prefer Scrooge McAssface. I shake my head. I don’t need him occupying any more of my thoughts. If he wants to be moody, he can go do that by himself. I grab my coffee and head out to the parking lot.

I pull into the alley of Olivia and Ledger’s house. With my coffee in hand, that would be better if I had a blueberry scone to go with it, I make my way up the freshly shoveled walkway. Before I can get to the door, Olivia’s throwing it open. Her blonde hair is plopped in a messy bun on the top of her head. “Did you get a call from Mom?”

My eyebrows pinch together. “No. I don’t think so. Why?” Granted, my phone could have rung but I was so busy dealing with a grumpy neighbor, I wouldn’t have even noticed.

“She just called me to ask if I got the invite to attend her Christmas charity gala. Under The Mistletoe or whatever.” She waves her hand in the air. “I can’t believe she has the audacity to think I would want to go after what happened.”

Several months ago, Olivia and our mom had a falling out when our parents didn’t want her dating Ledger. They constantly tried to set her up with different guys, mostly to further their own agenda. Our father even threatened their relationship by bribing Ledger to stay away. It ended happily for Olivia and Ledger, but the tension with our parents never settled.

With Olivia’s no fucks given attitude toward Mom’s opinion on who she’s dating, all their attention will be on me and my now non-existent boyfriend. I imagine their matchmaking will soon turn to me once they find out Adam dumped me. That’ll be a fun conversation while attempting to dodge every single man my mother heaves in my direction. I’ll admit it was nice to have all eyes off me while Olivia was single, but now the tables have turned. FML.

I throw myself down on a stool at her kitchen island and with my elbow on the counter, I prop my chin up with my hand. “Do we have to go? Will she really know if we’re not there?” It’s a stupid question to ask because, of course, she will know if we aren’t there. In fact, I’m sure she would love it if we didn’t go just so she can gain sympathy from all the other socialites about how her daughters don’t support her. She’s manipulative like that.

“We have to go. Not because we want to, but to show her we don’t give a fuck. Plus, I can’t wait to find a dress that shows off my new tattoo.” She climbs up onto the stool next to me and pulls down the collar of her boat neck sweater. Inked on her shoulder is a dandelion with the seeds floating away, but a few of the seeds transform into birds that wrap around her bicep.

“That’s gorgeous.” I trace the outline of a bird with my finger.

“Ledger helped me design it.” Her lips tip up into a soft smile when she mentions his name.

To spite our mother's hatred of tattoos, Olivia goes out of her way to display all of her ink at every opportunity.

I drop my hand to my lap. “I know you’re right. We have to go, especially since she sent the invite. I wish we could tell her it got lost in the mail.”

“Saaame.” She releases the collar and lifts one shoulder to adjust her sweater. “But we have a business now. We need to approach this as a business opportunity and do some networking. All the while throwing up our figurative middle fingers at her.” We both laugh. “But this also means we have to send her an invitation to our event, otherwise you know she’ll try to make us look bad.”

I rub my temples. “At this point, the only winners here are the two charities.”

“Speaking of charities. I talked to Parisa and she said The Lilith House is partnering with the local food bank to double their efforts for holiday meals and toys for kids. If we make them our charity, the monies will go twice as far.”

Finally, a more neutral topic. “Yes! That’s a fantastic idea. I already told her the donations we get for my neighborhood decorating contest will also go to The Lilith House.”

“This is going to be the best holiday for all the kids.” She glances around. “Where’s my scone?”

“Oh. About that.” I fill her in about bringing cookies to the new neighbor, how he slammed the door in my face, and criticized my shoveling. “So, while I was in line at Roasters that jerk took the last scone.”

“I would have tackled him.”

“I mean, he did offer me the scone after he took a bite out of it.” I laugh thinking about how ridiculous the situation was. “But it was weird, after he got his coffee his whole demeanor changed and he bolted.”

Olivia shakes her head. “Guys are weird.”

I spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon at Olivia’s house. We decide on a winter wonderland theme for our charity gala and we brainstorm décor and catering ideas.

When I arrive home, I stop and collect the mail from the mailbox before heading inside. I toss the stack of mail on the counter and stroll down the hallway to my bedroom. Pulling my sweater over my head, I lay it over the back of a chair and exchange it for a hoodie. I swap out my skinny jeans for yoga pants. Before I exit the room, I grab my tablet from my nightstand and freeze. Placing the tablet aside, I grip the black picture frame. As I trace my finger over the glass, memories flood back of Adam and me in the picture.

It was one of our first dates where he took me to The Boat House and then for a nighttime stroll along the Lakewalk. It was a time when both of us were happy and in love. Now… one of us has moved on. I stride into the en suite bathroom and hold the picture over the trash can but pause. Things should be different. My life should be different. But it’s not. Blowing out a breath, I amble back to the bedroom and open the nightstand drawer and place the picture frame glass side down. I pick up my tablet and go back out to the kitchen.

I flip through the stack of mail. Junk. Garbage.Better Homes and Gardens Christmas Ideasmagazine. Yes, please. I push that one to the side. Garbage. Junk. Connor Tyler? A plain white envelope addressed to Connor Tyler from California. When I read the address, I realize it actually belongs to the new neighbor. The mail carrier must have delivered it to my box by accident. As much as I want to rip it up and toss it in his face like confetti, I’d rather not end up in federal prison. Orange is not my color. First, he steals my scone, now I have to deliver his mail. I’m getting shafted. And not the good kind of shaft either. Begrudgingly, I walk across the street and shove it in his mailbox. Even though I know his full name now, Scrooge is still more fitting.

SIX

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