Page 35 of A Very Merry Enemy
“Go ahead, Holiday. Tell her you can’t commit,” he mutters.
I want to say no. Want to tell her I can’t spend five weeks working with someone who looks at me like I’m the worst mistake he ever made.
“Pretty please with sugar on top?” she begs.
“One baking session,” I force out. “That’s all I’m agreeing to.”
Lucas rolls his eyes. “Stubborn.”
“Thank you!” Mawmaw says and hangs up before either of us can respond.
Lucas and I stand there, staring at his phone like it’s a bomb that just went off.
“This is a fucking nightmare,” he finally says.
“Agreed.”
“I’m going to make baking with me so unbearable you’ll quit.”
My spine straightens. “Good luck with that. I think I’d rather torture you for the next five weeks. Mawmaw would be so disappointed if her perfect little grandson couldn’t handle his stinky-ass attitude.”
He grins. “Everyone has a breaking point.”
I cross my arms. “Try me, Jolly.”
His eyes flash with something dangerous. “You’re going to hate your life.”
“Ah, well. Nothing new there.”
He walks to the door, pauses with his hand on the handle. Turns back to look at me. “Can’t wait for you to leave.”
I laugh in his face.
His voice drops. “I meant what I said about you being selfish. Don’t expect me to be nice just because Mawmaw wants us to pretend like we’re friends.”
“I don’t expect anything from you, Lucas. Just your impossible attitude.”
For a second, something like pain flashes across his face, then it’s replaced by cold hatred.
“Good. Then we understand each other.”
He leaves. The door closes with a soft click.
I stand there, shaking with anger as the timer goes off.
I return to the kitchen, check my pecan cookies. They’re perfectly golden, not a single one burned. I take them off the tray, and my hands are shaking.
Lucas is right about everyone having a breaking point, and I just hope he never finds mine. He will try, though.
This cannot be happening.
CHAPTER 8
LUCAS
Ipull up to the bakery at six thirty, a full thirty minutes late on purpose.
If Holiday wants to work with me, she can learn right now that I don’t follow her rules. The bakery lights glow golden against the darkening sky. Through the window, I can see her moving around inside, already prepping like the overachiever she’s always been.
