Page 9 of The Bright Side of Christmas
“Beer?” I can’t help it, I shift the tiniest bit to get a glimpse at her. Her focus is on Colt still, and she shrugs, giving him a small, self-deprecating smile.
“It’s what the table voted on.”
Colt gives her a look as he reaches for a pitcher and turns toward the tap as if he knows it’s no use arguing with her.
“You don’t drink beer, Wren.”
“All good, I’m not going to be here much longer, anyway.” She bites her lip and looks back at the table. “Can you also put it on my tab?”
I should shut up.
I should pretend she doesn’t exist.
But I don’t. “So you’re not going to drink it, but you’re paying?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. She turns her focus back to me, a playful gleam in her eyes, hiding the utter exhaustion that lingers on her face, before she shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“It’s my turn.”
“But you’re not going to drink it.”
“The table voted on it, and Maxine paid for the last round. I’m not going to be selfish and not pay just because I won’t be drinking it.”
I tip my head. “You didn’t get here all that long ago—I can’t imagine you even took part in the last round.”
A blush blooms on her cheeks, and it’s sweet. I like that I’ve caught her off guard, a small win in our battle of wills, but it only lasts a moment before she lifts an eyebrow and the corner of her lips tips up, clearly moving to the defensive.
“Nice to know you were watching me, I suppose.”
I sit there stunned, realizing I walked right into that one. My jaw flexes as I try and figure out how to counter, but my new…friend? cuts in.
“Hear you’re on a mission to get your new neighbor to decorate his house?”
I turn my head toward him, and he gives me a shit-eating grin in return.
No, definitely not my friend.
“Andyou’re talking to people about me?” Wren asks with a smile just as wide as Colt’s. “One might think you’re obsessed with me, Adam.”
“No,” I say, trying not to seem as flustered as I feel. “I was simply complaining about my annoying neighbor who keeps leaving her junk on my lawn.” It’s bait, my own effort to get her riled up, but unfortunately, she doesn’t give in to it easily. Instead, she pulls her shoulders back, triumph taking over her face before she explains to Colton.
“Well, as you know, as head of the decorating committee, it’s my mission to maintain the thirty-year tradition of every house in Holly Ridge being lit up for the holidays. Our new neighbor is adamant that he won’t be decorating, but I’m working to make sure he doesn’t disrupt our streak.” It sounds like a speech, like she’s running for office instead of trying to get me to put up some lights.
“I don’t like Christmas. I don’t like decorations.”
Colton lets out an entertained laugh, watching our back-and-forth.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have moved here. This town is lit up from Halloween to New Year’s, so you’re in for some misery,” Wren says with a tight jaw.
“I have no problem with other people decorating. I just don’t want my house lit up like you can see it from outer space.”
Colton slides the pitcher in front of her, and she gives him a sweet smile that slides off her lips when she turns back to me.
“A few strands of lights won’t make your house visible from two streets over, much less space.”
“The same way that one house going dark won’t make yours shine any less brighter.”
“But it’s atradition,” Wren says, throwing her hands and nearly whining now. I bite back the way it makes me want to laugh and shrug instead.
“Your tradition, maybe. Not mine.”
