Page 35 of The Holiday Hate-Off
Surprised laughter spills out of me. “Are you going to put up a flyer with my photo too? Maybe design it with Eileen?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? It would feed your enormous ego.”
I smile at her. “Yeah, I would, actually. Make sure you choose a good shot of me. I’ll have my brother bring over a selection in the morning. Feel free to use the rejects for dart practice.”
“I don’t need to practice. I have impeccable aim.”
I’ll just bet she does.
“Go,” she says, pointing, and then her finger actually pokes into my chest again, lingering for half a second, the pad grazing up and down my shirt.
“Are you sure you want me to?”
“Yes,” she says hotly. “The sooner you leave, the sooner I can enjoy this event.”
“I wish for your sake that were the case. Goodbye, Lucia.”
I leave the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind me as I enter the dining area. I expect her to follow me, to make sure I heed her command, but she doesn’t, not yet.
I let myself accept the disappointment funneling through my veins, but disappointment is not the same as defeat.
Lucy may not want to sleep with me. She may never want to sleep with me. But I will do everything in my power to make sure she doesn’t go home with Brandon Wright tonight. That is unacceptable, and I do not allow unacceptable things to happen.
Which is why you’re unemployed, you stubborn idiot.
Be that as it may, you can’t change your basic personality just by wishing it so.
The guests are still milling around, some of the guys holding their Santa beards by the ear loops while they sip hot chocolate. A few of the women are sucking seductively on candy canes while they scope out the miserable selection available to them, like a Mother’s Day buffet just before closing.
Eileen gestures me over from behind the front counter.
“Are you leaving, dear, or could I interest you in some hot chocolate? We have The Naughty List and The Nice List.” Eyes twinkling, she cocks her head and asks, “And which one would you be on tonight?”
I laugh despite myself. “That’s been made quite clear to me. I’ve been banned from the Sip, so I’m guessing I should hand in my Santa paraphernalia.”
She tsks but nods. “Lucy has my complete support, so I’ll stand by her decision. But will you say hello to your sister for me? And your grandmother. I don’t like having bad blood between us, especially at this time of year. We never quite recovered our relationship after your mother left, but I was hoping we could overcome these recent hiccups.”
“I’ll tell her,” I promise. “You know how she is. She’ll be angry until she’s not.”
Nonna Francesca has gotten more mercurial lately, her anger lasting longer and for less of a reason. I’m worried age is catching up to her, confusing her and making past battles leak into the present.
I’m approaching my fears about her aging carefully, though, because I know my grandmother’s pride is as ironclad as my own.
“I do, my dear,” Eileen says. She hands me a little pink box, patting it softly with her hand. “I packed up some cookies for your grandmother while you were in the kitchen, and some of those delightful whoopie pies from next door.”
“She’ll assume they’re poisoned,” I say truthfully.
“I know,” she replies without any sign of indignation. “So tell her they’re from Audrey at Making Whoopie. A free sample.”
“She doesn’t believe anything in life is free.”
Eileen pats my hand. “Kindness is, Enzo.”
I feel a little hot behind the ears. Embarrassed, I realize. I came here to seduce her pretty barista, and here she is, being kind to me—like giving a plated meal to a fox that snuck into the henhouse.
I force a smile. “Isn’t this a little dramatic, like we’re the Montagues and the Capulets?”
“Itisexciting, isn’t it?” she says with a sweet return smile. “Now, off you go. I have some matchmaking to do, and I’m afraid we may be at cross-purposes.”
