Page 48 of Rebel Without a Claus
So yeah. I wanted to buy her a damn coffee. Act casual. Drop it off like it’s no big deal, maybe get a laugh out of her, maybe earn a smile that’s just for me.
Sue me.
But I don’t even make it past the pastry case before trouble finds me.
“Luke,” coos Mrs. Garcia like she’s narrating a love story. I turn toward her voice and she’s right there, standing behind the counter, cheeks flushed and wearing a glitter-covered reindeer sweater that blinks in three different colors.
I nod, politely. “Hey there, Mrs. Garcia.”
“What brings you in here?”
I keep my face as neutral as possible, trying not to squirm. “Just picking up a peppermint mocha.”
“A peppermint mocha, huh?” She leans in, grinning like she already knows the punchline to a joke I haven’t heard yet. “For a certain Christmas elf, perhaps?”
I manage a smile. “Just trying to keep her from turning into a popsicle this afternoon out at the barn.”
Mrs. Garcia leans in, whispering like she’s delivering state secrets. “Well, you’re a lucky man. She earned that peppermint mocha, giving up that big, fancy LA job, huh?”
I freeze, but don’t respond fast enough, which is apparently permission for Mrs. Garcia to continue blabbing as she turns to grind the espresso beans for Eve’s peppermint mocha.
“Such a bold move, giving up her dream job for love. But here in Holly Ridge, we all know she made the right choice.”
The words echo inside me like someone just dropped them into a cavern.
She’s staying. And apparently, she got a job offer.
A good one too, it sounds like. The sort of job she’s worked toward for years. One that she turned down…
For me.
But then… why didn’t she tell me about it?
I’m still chewing that over when the bell above the door jingles and I glance up on instinct.
And immediately wish I hadn’t.
Gemma.
Her glossy hair is tucked into a perfect cream-colored beret. Her red coat fits like it was stitched to her skin. And her eyes land on me like heat-seeking missiles.
Mrs. Garcia, with her back to us, is still rambling on about Eve and the dream job she gave up as Gemma gets into line behind me. “After all this time, all that fighting and leaving her parents to run their inn alone for years and she decides home is here after all.”
Mrs. Garcia sighs and turns to face me, hand outstretched with the finished latte. “Can you believe it? All those years you spent pining after that girl, hating Christmas because of her… and here she is now, giving up a whole dream career… for you.”
She says it like it’s the most romantic thing in the world. But my gut twists.
My chest tightens. I can’t breathe right. Can’t think.
Eve’s always been bright lights and big ideas. She’s the kind of woman who was born for more than this town. More than its gossip and snowbanks and the same ten people asking about her relationship status every weekend.
And if she gives all of that up—for me?
I don’t know whether to be touched or furious that she would turn down a job so important to her.
“Shewhat?” Gemma snorts from behind me.
I grab the drink and step aside, heart thudding so hard it hurts.
