Page 4 of Rebel Without a Claus
CHAPTER 2
Luke
I hate Christmas.
Alright, maybehateis a strong word, but I sure as hell don’t love it. The lights, the music, the overly enthusiastic carolers who think showing up unannounced on someone’s doorstep is a great idea—it’s all a headache wrapped in garland. And now, as if the universe decided to personally spite me,Eve Wintersis back in town, prancing around like a one-woman Christmas parade.
I’ve managed to avoid her for years, ever since she left for Los Angeles and stopped being my problem. But now, apparently, she’s back.
It’s only for the holidays, I tell myself. By the new year? She’ll be gone again. Because that’s what Eve does best: leave.
I spent the better part of the morning delivering pinecones, holly, garland, and pine trees to various homes and businesses of Holly Ridge and now it’s time for a well-deserved cup of Holly Ridge’s finest coffee.
The scentof cinnamon and roasted coffee beans hits me the second I step into The Jolly Bean. Normally, I avoid placeslike this—too much Christmas spirit, too many twinkling lights, carols playing too loudly on the playlist, and an unreasonable number of nutcrackers staring at me from the shelves. But it’s been a long day of deliveries, my truck heater is acting up again, and I need caffeine before I drive back to the farm.
I shake the snow off my jacket, grumbling to myself as I stomp toward the counter. It’s quiet, save for the soft hum of Christmas music and the sound of the espresso machine hissing. Perfect. A peaceful cup of coffee, and then I’m out of here.
The bell over the door jingles again, and just like that, my peace is shattered.
Eve Winters breezes in, her blonde curls bouncing as she steps over the threshold to the coffee shop like she owns the place. Which, knowing her, she might as well. And because that’s not enough chaos for one moment, she’s got her dog with her.
I cross my arms, glaring at her as she takes her place behind me in line. If she sees me, then it doesn’t show. Her eyes are cast upward on the drink menu board above us.
“You know there’s a ‘no pets’ rule here, right?” I grumble.
Eve glances down at her little puff of fur, who is now sniffing the display case like he’s considering a cinnamon roll for himself. Then she gives me a sunny smile. “Oh, Cringle isn’t a pet. He’s anambassadorof Christmas spirit.”
I stare at her. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is now,” she declares, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Don’t be such a Scrooge. Besides, he’sverywell-behaved.”
As if on cue, Cringle lets out an excited bark, startling a man trying to sip his peppermint latte. Eve winces but quickly recovers, straightening her ridiculous Christmas sweater. It has reindeer prancing across it and actual jingle bells sewn into the fabric. I sigh, already regretting every decision that’s led me to this moment.
How badly do I actually need coffee?
Before I can turn and make a run for it, the young barista hands me a paper cup of my black coffee.
“What are you doing here, Eve?” I ask, taking a long sip of my coffee.
“What does it look like? I’m getting coffee.”
“Not here at the Jolly Bean. Here in Holly Ridge. You usually come on December 23rd and are gone by the 26th… that’sifyou visit at all.”
She lifts her chin, a touch of defiance written on her face. “I’m here for the festival.”
Bullshit. “You’re here for the festival? After nearly a decade of missing it every year? Why now? Why this sudden newfound interest in our town's Christmas festival?”
“It’s not…” she pauses, shaking her head. “It’s not anewfoundinterest. I love this town. I love the Christmas festival. Yes, I’ve been busy for a few years, but I nevernotwanted to be here for the festival.”
I snort. “Sure.”
Her jaw twitches and a look of resolve hardens her features. “Besides, I don’t owe you an explanation or a reason why I’m here visiting my parents.”
“You’re right. You don’t?—”
“But Idoneed to talk to you about the festival. The inn needs more trees.”
I nearly choke on my coffee. “Moretrees? Your father hasfourChristmas trees already.”
