Page 22 of The Mistletoe Bluff
What was the harm in submitting my photos? As crushing as it would be not to win, regret would be a two-ton monster sitting on my shoulders for the rest of my life, whispering in my ear all the horrifying what-ifs that might have happened if I didn’t enter.
Besides, not only would it be amazing exposure if I won, but that prize money would pay off all my debt. I could move forward with my life goals, save up to buy my own place, and bury that dark part of my past for good. I’d be able to take pictures because I loved it, because it brought me joy, not because I was worrying about how to pay my bills or put food in my stomach.
Just the thought of being debt-free was enough for me to roll off the bed, run back into the living room, and pull out my laptop. In a few clicks, I entered all my information into their website, including the pictures from Elsie and Jameson’s photoshoot.
I blew out a long breath, my finger shaking over the mouse before I clicked submit.
As if the universe knew that I had taken a big chance yesterday and was determined to make my life miserable as a result, my phone buzzed with a text just as I swiped my timecard to leave work the next day.
Oliver Lewis
Hey Maya, I’m going to be a few minutes late to pick you up. Sorry! Be there as soon as I can.
My stomach dropped as I read the words. It had been the world’s longest shift at Dina’s with way more tourists than usual, meaning I didn’t have my usual nice Meridel customers. Instead, I was plagued by rude city people that were demanding and cruel. All I wanted to do was go home, throw on my pajamas, curl up in bed, and watch reruns ofHow I Met Your Motherfor the eighteen thousandth time. Maybe stuff my face with some lasagna and brownie batter ice cream. Separately, of course. I’m notthatweird.
An ill-timed reminder flashed across my phone.
Don’t forget to get groceries, girl.
Dang my stupid phone reminders. And dang me for not getting groceries before my car went into the shop.I was pretty sure the only thing in my kitchen right now was a package of ramen and some Kraft Singles. Those things never expired; I was certain of it.Lasagna and ice cream would have to wait.
I chewed on my lip as I considered my options. I wasn’t about to ask Oliver to take me to the grocery store, and, unfortunately, Wally’s Market hadn’t subscribed to the idea of grocery delivery yet, so there would be none of that either.
I loved Meridel, I really did, but sometimes it was too small, too constricting. It was like an old person, full of knowledge and wisdom, yes, but when you handed them new technology, they tried to shove it into their mouth and eat it instead.
Even still, the thought of leaving made my heart ache. This was home.
"Focus, Maya," I said, shaking my head at how I got off track from food options to nostalgia. Since Dina always closed early on Thursdsays, getting food here wasn't an option. The kitchen had already shut down.
My stomach gave a fierce growl as I pulled on my coat and headed outside to wait for Oliver. It was a mild December day with temperatures in the forties, which wasn’tterriblefor standing outside, only uncomfortable. My breath clouded in the air in front of me, and I pulled on my gloves to stave off the chill.
Ramen and fake cheese for dinner? My stomach rumbled in protest, and I put a hand against it. “I know, stomach, but I don’t have another option right now,” I mumbled and fell deeper into self-pity over the pitiful dinner I was about to have.
You could just ask to eat dinner with Oliver.
If I could have slapped my inner voice, I would have done it in a heartbeat. There would be no dinners, no movies, no dates, no spending extra time with him. He was my archnemesis for a reason. I was doing him a favor like he was by driving me around, and that was it. Limited contact and no one would get hurt. Limited contact only.
My stomach growled again, and I stomped my foot like a child. I was cold, tired, and hungry, and he was very, very late. I dug into my purse, looking for my phone so I could ask where he was when his Jeep pulled up next to the curb.
He threw open the door for me. “Hey, Maya. Sorry I’m late.”
I grumbled and climbed into the car. He flipped on the seat warmer for me, but I was too annoyed and cold to be grateful.
Oliver studied my face for a moment before pulling back onto the road.
After another few tense seconds, I demanded, “Why are you late?” It was rude, but hangry Maya had taken over.
Oliver arched a brow at me before turning onto Main Street, then leaned forward to pick up a grocery bag on the floor between us. “I was picking up dinner for you. It wasn’t quite ready when I got there so I had to wait.”
Regret snapped through me like a slap to the face.
“What?”
“I was driving back from the next town over and saw a takeout place. I figured you’d been serving food enough today and wouldn’t want to cook. So, I picked up dinner.” His expression was so genuine, it stunned me.
Oliver…brought me dinner? “Why would you do that?”
He shrugged, his lips twitching. “It’s the least I could do. You’re helping me with my dad situation.”
