Page 19 of A Very Merry Enemy
As if I summoned her, Holiday exits with boxes stacked in her arms. She’s balancing them against her hip, nudging the door shut with her elbow. Her hair has come completely loose from the bun, falling in messy waves around her face.
Thankfully, she doesn’t notice me standing by my truck.
I should look away. Should get in my truck, drive home, and stop letting her get under my skin.
But I don’t.
I watch as she nearly drops a box, muttering something under her breath. The trunk won’t open at first, and she has to set everything down and fumble with it.
She looks tired and frustrated.
Human.
Finally, she gets the trunk loaded and climbs into her car without looking back.
The cold settles into my bones. I slide into my truck andcrank the heat, sitting there as her taillights disappear down the driveway.
I really can’t believe she’s staying through the season. Or that I spent over two thousand four hundred dollars on cookies just to piss her off.
Holiday will lose this game.
Not me.
Not ever again.
But as I drive home, I can still taste that fudge brownie on my tongue. And I hate that it was the best damn pastry I’ve ever had.
CHAPTER 5
HOLIDAY
Iglance up at the candy cane clock on the wall and see that it’s just past six in the morning. I’ve been at the bakery for two hours already, and I’m debating whether cookies can be used as weapons. Especially if Lucas tries to come in here and buy everything to ruin my day again.
My feet ache, my back is screaming, and I’m only halfway through prepping today’s menu. When I told Emma I’d manage the bakery while she was on maternity leave, I knew that meant working seven and a half weeks straight without a day off.
Being busy is what I need, what I came back for. This job keeps my mind off Paris, off my failed engagement, and off the disaster my life became.
Last night, I barely slept because I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I want to murder Lucas Jolly. I turn the Christmas music up and sing along like it’s a cry for help. Mom used to say singing soothes the soul.
Today, I have two of Lucas’s cousins helping me—Bella and Wendy. They’re both in their midtwenties and work around the farm when needed. Bella is opening her own coffee shop and bookstore in town soon but has extra time to help Emma this season. I used to babysit the Jolly cousinswhen I was a teenager for extra money. Once the display case is full, I wipe my hands on my apron. Today, I’m prepared for the Great Cookie Massacre of Merryville, Round Two.
I grab a peppermint pinwheel from the cooling rack and bite into it. It burns my tongue, and I mutter swear words that would’ve gotten my mouth washed out with soap as a kid.
They’re perfect and I know they’ll fly out of here.
Hopefully not as fast as Lucas buying out my entire stock and handing out cookies like a sexy Santa Claus in designer denim.
I groan. The whole town won’t shut up about it. Pictures were posted on the community Facebook page and the comments were all about how cute we are. Some said his stunt was romantic.
It wasn’t. It was calculated and cruel. And the fact that it backfired and gave me free advertising doesn’t change that he did it to piss me off. It worked.
He may have won yesterday’s battle, but I will win the war this season.
My eyes sting from lack of sleep. My hair is still in whatever messy twist I threw it into this morning, and I haven’t even looked in a mirror.
I walk to the front and add cookies to the case. I glance at the counter, replaying how Lucas leaned against it like he owned the place. I remember that cocky smirk when he said he’d buy everything. The way he called me Peaches and HoHo, knowing those nicknames would get under my skin.
I don’t need a reminder of our past.
