Page 13 of The Mistletoe Bluff
I made to stalk back inside and demand that Paul find me a car when Oliver’s arms snaked around my waist, pulling my back against his chest. A flood of his scent smothered me, and my muscles relaxed against my will even though I was being held captive by my archnemesis.
“I don’t think going back in there is a good idea, Maya.” His voice was low in my ear, sending a shiver through me.
“And why’s that?” I spat, my breath pooling in the cold air.
“Because you and I both know that you’ll probably end up assaulting Paul, and then you’ll spend Christmas behind bars. I don’t think you want that.”
“Did you just accuse me of being violent?”
“I wouldn’t dream of calling youviolent, Maya,” he crooned in that magnificent accent of his. “But Iwouldcall you feisty.”
I barked an unamused laugh, and he loosened his hold on me so I could pull away to face him. His blue eyes flickered with amusement.
I fought the urge to stomp my foot like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. “I still need a car, Oliver. I can’t wait until after Christmas to be able to get around.” My throat constricted, my eyes burning, and I bit my lip to keep it all away. I wouldnotcry in front of this man.
“You have a car,” he replied, adjusting his glasses on his nose.
At that moment, Paul came outside and glared at me before climbing into my beat-up Accord and pulled it around to the back of the shop.
I gestured at the now empty parking spot. “What car?”
He mimicked my gesture, only his arms flung toward his own car. “Mine.”
“Excuse me?”
Oliver shrugged. “Seeing as it’s my fault your car is in the shop in the first place, it’s only fair that I offer to drive you around until the repairs are complete.”
I was shaking my head before he even finished his sentence. “You’re not chauffeuring me around.”
He cocked his head. “Why not?”
“Are you kidding? First of all, it’s almost Christmas and I’m sure you have family events and dates and girlfriends to woo and whatnot. Second, we hate each other.”
Oliver took a step closer, invading my personal space once again, ducking his head to look me in the eye. “First of all, I only have one Christmas dinner planned, and I can work that out. I also have zero dates, and I certainly don’t have a girlfriend.”
My stomach fluttered, but I took a deep breath, forcing it away.
“Second of all, I never said I hated you.”
Our gazes locked and that swooping in my stomach returned like a battering ram.
Well, now. You’re just going to have to knock that off, stomach.
“You said you didn’t like me five minutes ago.”
Oliver dared another step closer, leaning down to murmur in my ear. “Dislike and hate are two very different things.” A smirk lit his face as he pulled back, pushing his glasses up his nose again.
It shouldn’t have been so hard to tear my gaze from his. I shook my head and stepped away from him.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, voice quiet. “We hated each other from the moment we met.”
He arched a brow. “Speak for yourself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Oliver’s eyes flicked back and forth between mine for a moment before he cleared his throat. “It’s not important. Let me drive you home, and you can think on my offer.”
Part of me desperately wanted to continue this conversation to find out how he remembered our first meeting. All I remembered was him going out of his way to be a teacher’s pet—snagging the assignment I wanted—gloating about it, and then stealing my desk to top it off. He had acted like we were in high school, not well into our twenties in a college photography class.
