Page 7 of Checked Out by the Grinch
Ignoring the text, I pull up the webpage for Evergreen Tree Farm. It’s a little ranch just west of here that my family used to head up to this time of year. They have a little Christmas festival, a reindeer barn, and a cocoa bar that has everything under the sun. Kade loved it last year, and they had some Charlie Brown type trees marked way down. I found a three-footer for under twenty bucks. Plus, it looks like Santa will be there tomorrow. We haven’t made a trip to see Santa yet. That’s what we need, a trip to the tree farm. Something festive and free of toxic men and all their agendas.
I swear I’ll raise Kade to treat women right and to know that showing up is the bare minimum. That apologies without change is just manipulation. I promise I’ll make sure he knows that love is steady, safe, and doesn’t leave you begging for scraps.
Another buzz. I click back to my messages, apparently a glutton for punishment. If it’s Corey again, I’m not holding back. I’m going to answer it and I’m going to tell him exactly what I think. Except it’s not Corey, it’s Grayson.
My chest tightens as I scan over the message quickly. On my first read-through all I see is the word dinner and my entire body floats before my eyes can focus on the rest of the text.
Grayson: Are you up for dinner? My treat. We can wait for my guy to get back to us together.
I stare at the message, rereading it like the words might change if I blink too hard. It’s simple, casual, and completely innocuous.
I should say yes. Then again, I was just reminded of the reason men these days suck, but… Grayson is older. His views on the world are a lot different than Corey’s.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard. I want to say yes. I want to say hell yes. I want to say hell yes and add an invitation to my bed, but my brain is already running laps around every insecurity I’ve ever collected. My lumpy thighs. My squishystomach. The way I ramble when I get nervous. The fact that I haven’t shaved my legs in two weeks.
Still, he asked, and I want to say yes. I really, really want to say yes.
I type: Yeah, dinner sounds good.
I send the message without overthinking what a dork I am, then race to the bathroom to shower and shave my legs.
I’m sure it’s not necessary, but better safe than sorry.
Chapter Four
Grayson
The diner’s decorated in silver tinsel, red bows, and there’s Christmas music playing in the backdrop as the usual mix of locals enjoy Rugged Mountain’s famous Christmas pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. It’s a local delicacy that people can’t get enough of this time of year. I think it’s the flaky cinnamon in the crust. Either way, the diner smells like nostalgia. Warm sugar, pine from the garland, and the faint scent of coffee.
I sit in the corner booth, the one with the cracked red vinyl and the best view of the snow-dusted street. Holly is late and I’m starting to wonder if she’s going to show at all. I keep telling myself not to read into it. She’s probably busy with Kade or driving extra slow to account for the snow that’s falling heavily outside, but the truth is I’d be disappointed if she didn’t show up.
There’s something about her I couldn’t stop thinking about all day. Sure, she’s gorgeous. Long dark hair, sweet hazel eyes, a smile that nearly knocked me out, but there’s more behind the way she looks, and I want to know everything about her.
What keeps her up at night? What music does she listen to when she’s driving into work? What was her childhood like? What does she dream about.
I’ve never wanted to know any of these things about any other human being, ever. It’s like Aunt Vera slipped something into my drink and now I’m fixated.
The bell over the front door rings and everyone glances up, noticing the sweet girl with the long brown hair.
I see her right away. A black zipper coat with the hood up, her smile lighting the way before her.God, who the fuck am I? I’m never like this. Smiles don’t light up anything. It’s poetic bullshit.
“I’m so sorry I’m late.” She rushes toward the table, stripping off her coat as she talks. “I jumped into the shower, but the water wouldn’t get warm, so I checked the pilot light and that’s out. Usually, I just have to light it, but this time… nothing. And of course, my landlord is out of town until January so I’m on my own, I guess.” She exhales heavily as she hangs her coat on the hook outside the booth then slides in opposite me, leaning into the table as though she’s completely exhausted by life. “I really could use a solid break. I mean, if I hadn’t run across these books today, I think I might’ve just packed everything up and moved Kade and I to a remote island where the only responsibilities are befriending sea turtles and collecting coconuts.”
Fuck! Why am I worried about disappointing her?
“About that,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “My guy got back to me a few minutes ago.”
Her eyes lift optimistically, as though she’s excited for the details. I hate what I’m about to say. I liked the smile on her face earlier today. The one with hope stitched into the corners.
“It’s rare,” I clear my throat, “but apparently the restitched binding scrubs off a lot of the value. My guy values both titles at about five hundred dollars.”
“A piece?”
“Together.” I swallow hard, watching the lump in her throat widen. “I’m so sorry. We weren’t trying to mislead you. It was—”
“Oh, I never would’ve thought that.” She waves the whole thing away as she wraps her hand around a warm coffee mug the waitress sets on the table. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.” She sips the coffee slowly as though she’s trying to compose herself. “I, ugh…” A tear falls down her face, then another, though she wipes them away quickly. “I’m sorry. This is… maybe I should go.”
“No.” I reach toward her in comfort, resting my hand on top of hers. She’s unraveling in front of me, and I hate how much I want to fix it. “Don’t go.”
