Page 1 of My Accidental Holidate

1

Lucy

I didn’t answer the phone on the first ring. I was expecting it, but also secretly wished it wouldn’t come. The one that told me my boyfriend of three weeks had forgotten about the date. I decided we weren’t compatible and wanted to end things with him, but it seemed cruel to do it so close to Valentine’s Day.

Now that Valentine’s Day is here… well, I wish I ripped that bandage off before. I let the call roll to voicemail and finish entering the day’s numbers for Scribble & Scribe, the stationary store my parents thought I was crazy to open, into the computer.

I sigh when the phone starts to ring again, knowing Mike won’t give up, I answer.

“Hi,” I plaster on a grin trying to sound somewhat happy.

“Hey, made reservations for eight. I’ll pick you up in twenty,” Mike says and disconnects the call. He never asks, just assumes.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll head home and get ready,” I say to the room, rolling my eyes and adding this to the mental list of reasons for dumping him. With that, I grab my tote to lock up the shop and head home to my cozy apartment just down the street and get ready. That means wearing my red dress, shoes that hurt but are sexy as hell and totally worth it, and a clutch instead of my tote.

Mike might be a complete asshat, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to look smokin’ hot tonight.

* * *

True to his word,he honks the horn of his fancy new car exactly twenty minutes later and I walk out the door to greet him. I just want to get through tonight. I don’t want to be the girl who dumps her boyfriend on the most romantic day of the year.

As we walk into Oak Paradise, local steakhouse, Mike slips his cold clammy hand into mine. It’s everything I can do not to pull away from his grasp. Instead, I focus on the surroundings. Admiring the large selection of wines and warm atmosphere. I’m actually surprised that he remembered I wanted to come here, I didn’t think he was listening when I mentioned it.

Maybe he isn’t so bad after all.

I’ll just play nice tonight and see if this Valentine’s Day meal turns things around. I frown slightly as the host ushers us to our table, thinking over our dates. He does control every aspect of our time together. And is considerably egotistical. Everything’s on my schedule and time, and I’m tired of dropping what I’m doing —things I love like reading— to do what he wants.

But still, I could be over thinking it and he’s just dedicated to his job.

A young waiter smiles in passing and Mike snags his sleeve, not caring that the waiter was clearly on his way to do something.

“We’ll have the chicken dish for two, and bring a bottle of house red.” He flutters his fingers dismissively before looking at me.

I try to rearrange my face after grimacing at his treatment of the waitstaff. Yet another tick in the “cons” column.

Was he always this dismissive and impatient? Probably.

I take a deep breath and gulp the wine someone slid in front of me, wishing I spoke up for white instead and reminding myself once again that I only have to get through tonight.

“I heard about this place from a client,” Mike says while flicking through whatever on his phone.

The last of my hesitation on ending this evaporates with those words, and I glance around the room while sipping my wine. He’s talking at me, not to me or asking for engagement. It’s about his latest mastery of business that I still know nothing about. I don’t know him and now I’m just disappointed in myself.

My eyes land on the bartender, shaking a shiny silver cocktail shaker. A quick jolt of something different and new flashes through my core. He’s tall and dark haired with a five o’clock shadow that defines his chiseled jaw. I watch him pour a drink absolutely captivated by his tan, muscular forearms. My cheeks heat and I rest the cool glass of my wine against the curve of my cheek. When our eyes meet, I quickly returning my focus to Mike.

You’re on a date. Just focus.

The Mike Show is still in full swing with him droning on and on about himself. I smile and nod like I’m genuinely interested but from prior dates I know there won’t be a Q&A afterwards. He’s never cared about what I thought and cuts me off whenever I try to add to the conversation— not that you can call it that.

My attention wanders back to the bartender and when my gaze lock with his, a flood of desire dances through me. My nipples peak beneath the thin fabric of my dress. Holy hell.

If I ever consider having a fling, that would be the man. I don’t know if it’s the saucy grin he gives me or his fuck-me eyes, but something within me says… this man is mine.

Mike’s phone chirps and I turn back to him. His fake grin is replaced with one that looks excited, but sinister at the same time.

Finally, he looks to me. “Listen, I wasn’t going to break your heart on Valentine’s Day, but we’re through. You just aren’t doing anything for me. I need someone on my arm who is socially on par with me, and let’s face it sweetheart, you aren’t.”

“Did you just dump me?” I ask, my eyebrows scrunching together in surprised disgust. I suck in a breath to give him a piece of my mind. “Fir—”

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