Page 1 of A Very Merry Enemy
CHAPTER 1
HOLIDAY
The bell over the glass door jingles with too much cheer. Happiness spreads like a never-ending laugh track. The air smells like cinnamon as Christmas music plays from a speaker shaped like a snowman that’s hidden in the corner of Jolly Cookie Shop. A pine wreath hangs in the front window, glitter catching the early morning sunlight.
I adjust the row of peppermint snowflake decorations on the marble countertop, then take a step back to look at the case full of beautifully decorated pastries that I worked my ass off to make, starting at four this morning. There are sugar ribbons on gingerbread bows, star cookies with cranberry jam shining inside like stained glass, and my famous shortbread dipped in white chocolate and crushed candy canes.
Baking has always been my escape. Now is no different.
My hands shake for three seconds, and I press them against my apron, breathe through it, and pretend they’re steady. I can do hard things. I have done really hard things. Returning to Merryville after fifteen years of avoiding this place is at the very top of my list.
Through the front windows of the bakery, I can see that the tree lot is already busy with employees setting up beforecustomers arrive. Lucas is out there right now with his chain saw and bad attitude, pretending I don’t exist, fifty yards away.
Or worse…wishing I didn’t exist.
“You’re a pastry godsend,” Emma says from the doorway of the kitchen, one hand on her belly. Only Emma Jolly would stubbornly open a brand-new bakery on one of the busiest Christmas tree farms in Texas while pregnant with twins. “No way I could’ve pulled this off without you, Holiday. I’m so grateful.”
She’s married to Lucas’s older brother, Hudson. They met last year, and with some help from the magic of Merryville, fell madly in love. Emma always talks about how much she adores Hudson and his five-year-old son Colby. They’re the perfect little family.
“Yeah,” I say. Can’t say I love the circumstances that brought me back, but I’m happy to be useful to someone. “Hudson’s mama wouldn’t have let you fail. Neither would his cookie queen champion of a grandmother. Jake and Claire would’ve helped you, too.”
I give her a smile. Jake is the middle Jolly brother who’s marrying her sister Claire the weekend of Thanksgiving. I grew up with all the Jollys. Lucas was my twin brother Sammy’s best friend first, but it quickly became the three of us.
Lucas is the same man who never wants to see my face again.
After all these years, I’d hoped he’d at least be indifferent. But indifference would require him to stop caring about what happened when we were eighteen. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that Lucas Jolly holds grudges like his actual life depends on it.
He will never forgive me, and I accepted that a long time ago.
“Are you nervous about today?” Emma asks, her red glitter headband sparkling under the lights.
“No. I was born for this. I managed one of the greatest bakeries in Paris, which employed world-renownedpastry chefs. I competed professionally and baked with the best. Tree season doesn’t intimidate me.”
I straighten cookies in the glass case, breathing in sugar and butter and the hint of peppermint. The smell is full of nostalgia and reminds me of being young and in culinary school. That was the last time my life felt like it was mine. Before everything got complicated and out of control.
The door jingles, and Mrs. Edna Parker walks in with her two sisters, Melinda and Brenda. The official Merryville Gossip Squad are wearing matching sweaters with sparkly reindeer.
“Holiday,” Edna announces, leaning across the counter, glancing at my left hand. At one point, there was a big shiny ring on it. Not anymore. All that’s left is a tan line where it was. “Welcome home. It’s been far too long, honey.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Parker.”
She was my middle school home economics teacher, the one who helped me realize how much I loved to bake. At thirteen, I’d won the pie contest at the county fair. I still have the trophy.
Brenda leans over and points at a cookie through the glass. “What do you call these? They look too pretty to eat.”
I laugh. “Cranberry star windows.” I slide the case open. “They taste like snow days and good life choices. With coffee, it’s an experience.”
Melinda makes a clicking sound with her tongue. “I usually like a simple sugar cookie with sprinkles.”
“Live a little. I’ll let you try one,” I say, because my pastries are like a drug. Once the sugar touches their tongue, the brain instantly wants more.
“Me too,” both of her sisters say, and Edna laughs, knowing where this is leading.
“Why did you laugh?” Brenda asks Edna.
She chuckles again. “Holiday has a special skill. One taste is all it takes.”
“I should make that my personal slogan,” I say with a smirk. It’s true, especially when it comes to men.
