Page 64 of Mistletoe, Mayhem & Mr. Grump
"Holden," he says, like my name tastes bad.
"Sterling," I reply, trying to block his view of Wren. "How did you find me?"
"Pierce Industries has resources," he says smoothly. "Also, this town has one inn, and the receptionist is very chatty. Iris? Delightful woman. Told me everything."
"Of course she did," Wren mutters behind me.
Sterling's eyes shift to her, and his smile turns sharp. "You must be the toy shop owner."
"I must be," Wren agrees, stepping beside me. "You must be a corporate vampire."
"I prefer Senior Vice President of Development," Sterling corrects.
"I prefer lots of things I don't get," Wren shoots back. "Like privacy. And functioning heating. And lunch dates without corporate invasions."
"This is a lunch date?" Sterling asks, raising an eyebrow. "How quaint. Holden, we need to talk. Privately."
"Anything you need to say can be said in front of Wren," I tell him.
"Can it? Even the part about why you're really here?" Sterling asks innocently.
My blood freezes. Wren looks between us, confusion clear on her face.
"He's here because he works at the garage," she drawls, "and because we're dating."
"Dating," Sterling repeats, like the word is foreign. "Is that what we're calling corporate reconnaissance now?"
"Sterling," I warn.
"Oh, she doesn't know?" His face shifts to fake shock. "How awkward. Holden Pierce—yes, Pierce, as in Pierce Industries—is here to evaluate your charming little town for acquisition. Your shop is interesting. Prime real estate, terrible profit margins. Perfect for a Starbucks."
The color drains from Wren's face. "Is he serious?"
"He's lying," I blurt.
"Am I? Show her your real driver's license," Sterling suggests. "The one that says Pierce, not Clark."
Wren steps back from me like I'm radioactive. "Your name isn't even Holden Clark?"
"Technically, my full name is Holden Clark Pierce," I manage. "Clark was my mother's maiden name."
"Technically?" she repeats, her voice rising. "TECHNICALLY?"
"Wren, I can explain?—"
"Can you? Can you explain why you've been lying to me? To everyone?" She's backing away, knocking into furniture. "Oh God, the soft hands. The corporate speak. Not knowing anything about cars. It all makes sense."
"The relationship is real," I insist, reaching for her.
She jerks away. "Which part? The fake name? The fake job? The fake reason for being here?"
"The feelings aren't fake," I say desperately.
"Your feelings?" Sterling laughs. "Holden doesn't have feelings. He has spreadsheets and profit margins. Tell her about your charts, Holden. The ones rating the town's vulnerability."
"You made charts about destroying my town?" Wren asks, her voice small.
"I make charts about everything. You know that. I made charts about us?—"
