Page 16 of Rebel Without a Claus
How we almost kissed.
Hell, if Daisy hadn’t chosen that exact moment to launch a full-scale milk attack, Iwouldhave kissed her. And judging by the way she’d looked at me—cheeks flushed, breath shallow, pupils blown wide—she would have let me.
Which is a problem. A big ass problem.
Aunt May hums as she ladles soup into bowls, plopping slices of her fresh baked sourdough bread onto the side plates, blissfully unaware of the absolute chaos unfolding inside me.
“You’re holding up alright, Eve?” she asks, setting a steaming bowl in front of her. “You tell me if this boy of mine is working you too hard.”
Eve’s face collapses against her folded arms. “Ihategoats.”
I smirk. “Thought you were tough?”
Her head snaps up just enough to glare at me. “Oh, don’t start, Flannel Boy. I wasambushed. That was an act of war.”
Aunt May pats Eve’s hand sympathetically. “Don’t let him get to you, dear. You’ll get the hang of it.” Then she turns to me, raising an eyebrow. “And you, Lucas, stop making her life difficult.”
“Me?” I scoff. “She’s makingmylife difficult.”
Eve flashes a tired grin. “That’s the goal.”
Damn her. I like it just a little too much when she fights back.
Aunt May settles into her chair, stirring her soup. “So, Eve, how’s that fancy job of yours back in LA?”
“Um… it’s… fine.”
My eyes narrow onto her, spoon frozen halfway to my mouth. “Fine?”
“Uh-huh,” she says, avoiding my gaze.
“You left your whole life behind for that job. Your parents, your friends…”Me. “And it’sfine?” Something about her flippant tone rubs me wrong.
Aunt May clears her throat and shoots me a look. “Oh, how are your parents? I haven’t seen them in weeks.”
Eve sits up straighter, some of her exhaustion momentarily fading. “They’re good. Busy as ever with the inn.” But then, just for a second, there’s a flicker of something else in her expression. Concern, maybe? “I, uh… I really want to win the festival this year. For them.”
She says it casually, but I know Eve. She’s not just competitive—she’sruthlesswhen it comes to proving herself.The fact that she’s practically pleading with the universe to win tells me there’s more to the story.
I frown as the memory of our quick kiss beneath the mistletoe comes back to me. How the threat of ‘seven years of bad Christmas luck’ was enough to cause her to panic.
Aunt May smiles warmly. “You’ve got a good heart, dear.”
Eve shrugs, deflecting the compliment. “Anyway, tonight’s competition is Caroloke.”
I groan. “They’re still doing that? God help this town.”
“Caroloke is one of our town’s longest running traditions!” Aunt May repeats, beaming. “Christmas karaoke. What are you singing, dear?” she asks.
I nearly choke on my soup. “Eve can’t sing her way out of a paper bag.”
Aunt May once again swats me with her tea towel. “Lucas!”
“Ow! Stop that. It’s not my fault she shrieks like a dying cat.”
“It’s okay, Aunt May,” Eve says when it looks like Aunt May is about to replace the tea towel with the rolling pin. Even still, a gloomy look clouds her expression. “Luke’s right. Ican’tsing. I literally, single-handedly almost cost our high school the show choir state competition.”
“Yeah, by not showing up,” I grumble.
