Page 25 of The Holiday Hate-Off
Everyone around town knows he hooks up with a different tourist every weekend, because he enjoys bragging about his conquests.
My hand tightens around my pint glass.
If she sleeps with him, he’ll tell everyone. He’ll…
“I have to go,” I say, setting the beer down.
He turns on his high stool to give me an incredulous look. “Are you going to sabotage Santa Speed Dating?” He pauses. “There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.”
“I don’t know,” I tell him, which is true. But I feel sick over the thought of Lucy going home with that guy. I can’t let it happen. I just can’t.
“Don’t you think this feud with Love at First Sip has gone on long enough? Literally everyone is on Eileen’s side. Hell, I think even Aria is on Team Eileen.”
“Sounds like Aria,” I murmur.
“Imight even be on Eileen’s side. You should leave it alone.”
I clench my jaw and watch as the door across the street opens from within. Lucy stands in the doorway and ushers in the guests. Even though I can barely see a crescent of her face, I know it’s her.
I watch the line of people shuttle in, frowning when Brandon pauses to whisper something to her.
“Aria’s happier than she’s ever been, so there’s no point in holding a grudge on her account,” Giovanni continues. “And let’s be honest, Rachelle was going to break up with you anyway. She was also kind of…I don’t call women bitches, so I’m going to say she was an asshole. Everyone thought so. Did you hear what she pulled at The Haven?”
“Do you honestly think it’s possible that I haven’t?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “At least five different people have told me. Another two sent me the review she left them. I would have ordered Wren an apology bouquet, but if anyone found out, it would probably be considered a marriage proposal.”
He chuckles. “Gotta love this town.”
“Do we, though?”
“It’s that or go mad.”
Maybe Iamgoing mad. Because I can’t keep my eyes off that door. I have to get over there. The need to intervene is pounding through me, buzzing in my blood. But it’s a ticketed event, and I don’t have a ticket. I’m pretty sure no one would have sold me one, either, all things considered. “I’m not trying to mess with them. I swear on Nonno’s grave. I just want to make sure Brandon Wright doesn’t cause trouble. You know what he’s like.”
The look of disbelief he gives me does not flatter my ego, but I can’t tell him about that pink slip of paper I found. Or that Lucy is a virgin looking to get laid by one of these jerks. Telling him would make me like Brandon Wright. A douchebag.
Maybe I shouldn’t care what she does. She’s made it veryclear what she thinks of me, and there’s no denying she’s an aggravating pain in my ass. But she doesn’t know what it’s like here yet. She thinks she does, but she hasn’t dealt with the underside of Hideaway Harbor—the way the gossip can grind a person down to an old stump. I don’t want her to find out the hard way.
He watches me for several seconds, then nods. “Okay. But don’t just barge in there. They’ll throw you out. Worse, they’ll get a guy like Brandon to do it. Sure, you could beat the shit out of him, but you don’t want to get thrown into jail for hitting a guy in a Santa suit. Wait until one of the guys comes out, and then you can bribe him to let you take his place.” He points at the coffee shop. “The creep who jacked off into the handbag is a chain-smoker. No way he’s not going to come out in another ten minutes for a smoke.”
“Right, yeah, that makes sense,” I mumble, drumming the table with my fingers.
Am I really going to do this?
Yes, I’m going to do this.
“Are you coming with me? Maybe we can pick off two of them.”
He smirks. “No, man. I’m going to sit here and drink while I watch my big brother make a fool of himself.”
“I’d do the same in your place,” I say with a small smile, surprised to realize I’m enjoying myself.
“Now, the question is how you’re going to linger outside for the ten minutes or so it takes for the perv to need a smoke without looking like a stalker.”
“The problem has occurred to me,” I admit.
“So I’m going to do my final good deed of the night and tell you I may have a way to help. Nonna made a batch of cinnamon brooms late last night while she was muttering about her idiot grandchildren, and she made me carry them into the shop this morning. I’ve smelled like cinnamon all day.”
It was Giovanni’s turn to stay with Nonna last night. She’s getting on in years but refuses to leave her home to live more permanently with any of us, so instead we take turns sleeping at her house. Before I came back, Aria was in the mix. Now, it’s me, Giovanni, and Nico. We always pretend it’s unplanned—that it’s easier to crash in one of the spare bedrooms or on the couch than to return home to our comfortable beds. We do it for her, out of love. Because she may be a piece ofsalume, but she’s everything to us.
