Page 27 of The Crush of Christmas Past
“Oh, brother.” The prick laughs. “That’s a mighty big reaction.”
“Did. You. Cheat. On. Isla?” I growl the words.
“Are you going to punch me?” he asks, though there is no fear on his face. “You look like you’re going to punch me.”
My eyes sweep the yard—it’s a miracle no one has caught on to us yet. “Your ass is lucky I don’t hit family.” I push away from him.
Asher stays still, mouth pressed into a tight line, its edges ghosting a smirk.
The fire snaps, startling us both out of the staring match.
“You should tell her,” he finally says.
“No,” I spit out. “Youwill tell her. Come clean about whatever this da—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Tell Isla how you feel. I mean…” He gestures up and down my body. “You’referalfor her, for fuck’s sake.”
“I, unlike you, don’t touch what’s not mine. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be cheating on that woman if she were mine.”
“Neither would I.” Asher blows out a frustrated breath. “Listen, Sienna’s fiancé is up to some shady shit. She needed my help. I showed up. Nothing happened. But even if it had, it wouldn’t technically matter. Isla and I aren’t the real deal. She’s ju—”
“Not real?” I’m back in front of him, my self-control shot. Red-hot anger simmers beneath my skin, burning me from theinside out. It takes every ounce of resistance—and a reminder that I swore I’d never become my father—to stop myself from making contact with his face.
“Isla isn’t just some girlfriend! She’s your best friend! She deserves more than being used as a consolation prize to help heal your heartbreak. If you weren’t over Sienna, you should’ve nev—”
“You’ve got it all wrong.” He glances back at Isla—who remains absorbed in conversation with Willow—before meeting my eyes. “We’re not really dating. We’re faking it.”
“Faking it?” I stumble back, shaking my head in disbelief. “What? Why?”
Right. Sienna. It’s always about Sienna with Asher.
As if he can read my mind, he nods. “Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “To be fair, this was supposed to be an easy stunt. I didn’t count on having you here to fuck with the charade. Though, watching you squirm is a gift that keeps on giving.” He grins haughtily. “Admit it, seeing me touch her, hug her, put my hands all over—” I shove him, and he stumbles back, smirking. “Exactly.”
“You’re a dick,” I snap, my chest heaving.
“A dick who’s extendingyourdick an olive branch,” the asshole shoots back smugly. “Don’t waste your shot again.”
I spin away, mind racing, body wired with adrenaline. Rage, confusion, doubt—a slew of emotions spar for space inside me. Beneath the racket, something quieter stirs, too.
A stupid, stubborn thing.
Hope.
Maybe, just maybe, it’s not too late.
Either way, I’m done waiting.
Ten
Isla
Thelivingroomechoeswith hoots of laughter and playful banter, the wild mayhem spurred on by a game of Dirty Santa. The elder Thornes are off sledding with Jovie, leaving the rest of us to our own devices. A risky formula that’s quickly derailed into a decidedly not-so-family-friendly affair.
The loot started out innocently enough—artisanal soaps, a sleek portable speaker, and gourmet truffles from the town chocolatier. Things took a turn straight into the gutter when Rowan unwrapped a pocket-sized vibrator. It hit an even raunchier low as one of Willow’s friends unearthed a tub of peppermint-flavored lube substantial enough to keep everyone at the North Pole entertained for theforeseeable future.
That’s when Felix suggested the lucky recipients team up to test out their gifts. The space erupted in catcalls and jeers, and before anyone could recover, Rowan retaliated by launching a throw pillow at his brother’s head with sniper-like precision.
“Okay, that’s enough!” Willow, the self-appointed game master, steps in. “Let’s keep it moving before someone gets hurt!”
