Page 4 of A Very Merry Enemy
“I want to know why the hell you’re here.”
My jaw clenches. “Emma hired me.”
“I know that. I’m asking why you took the fucking job.” Now his eyes land on me and I nearly freeze in place. They’re stormy green, wild as a West Texas sky right before it hails. “You had no problem leaving Merryville behind and pretending like nothing here exists. Why come back now?”
The words hit like a slap. “That’s none of your damn business, is it?”
“It is when you’re working onmyfamily’s property.” He takes a step closer. “So, I’ll ask again. Why are you here, Holiday?”
“Because I want to be. Oh, that makes you mad?” I’m being overly sarcastic. “Boo-hoo. Get over it, Jolly.”
He narrows his cold eyes at me. “How’d Paris work out for you? How’s your famous fiancé? Oh, wait.”
I hate that he knows. Hate that everyone in this town knows my engagement fell apart. Small towns don’t keep secrets.
“You can go fuck yourself,” I snap.
“Trust me when I say I don’t have to. Plenty of women are lined up.”
I sarcastically clap my hands. “Good for you. Now, are you finished throwing a Jolly little tantrum? Because I’m not goinganywhere.”
“We’ll see about that. You always run.”
The air between us crackles. I want to throw something at him. Want to scream. Want to grab him by that stupid flannel and?—
I don’t dare to finish that thought.
“Get out,” I say instead. “As much as you want to control everything, you don’t get a say in what I do.” I move toward the door, ready to physically remove him if I need to.
“Don’t you dare touch me.” He backs away like I’ve got the plague.
The rejection stings more than it should.
“Trust me, touching you is the last thing I’d ever want to do.” The lie tastes bitter.
Because even now, even with all this anger boiling between us, I notice things I shouldn’t. Like the way his thermal pulls tight across his shoulders. The veins in his hands. The sharp line of his jaw beneath that scruff.
Ihatethat I notice.
“Good. Keep it that way.” He turns toward the door, then pauses. Looks back at me with an expression that’s full of disgust. “Do us both a favor and stay out of my way this season.”
“Gladly. I’d rather choke on candy canes.”
“Wish you would.”
I scoff as he walks out. The door slams and the bell crashes against it.
I stand there, frozen, watching him disappear into the crowd of customers. His stride is confident, cocky, and the asshole doesn’t look back.
And the worst part? Some stupid, traitorous part of me wanted him to.
I lean against the counter and close my eyes.
Fifteen years since that summer after graduation. Since our secret nights together, since I left for culinary school, and he stopped answering my calls. Fifteen years, and he still looks at me like I’m the one who ruined everything.
Maybe I did. I was young and stupid.
I push off the counter and finish cleaning. The faster I’m done, the faster I can go home and pretend today didn’t happen.
