Page 25 of Christmas at Hart's Ridge

Oneweek.That’showlong it would take for Joe Rivera, the owner and sole employee of the only auto repair shop in Hart’s Ridge, to fix my mom’s car. One week and seven hundred dollars. Good news and bad news. Good, because at seven hundred dollars, it would take me about two weeks’ worth of paychecks and tips to pay Ethan back. Totally feasible.

Bad, because I needed the car to get to work in order to earn the money to pay Ethan back.

“It’s fine,” Ethan said as he opened the door to Goat’s Tavern, gesturing with one hand for me to go ahead of him. He had followed me to Joe’s shop in his SUV and then given me a ride to work. “I don’t mind driving you around.”

“You don’t mind today,” I corrected. “Because we have the same shift. We don’t always. Plus I have the community center, too.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”

I ignored his advice and proceeded to worry. I didn’t want to be a burden. He was already loaning me the money to get Mom’s car fixed. Asking him to spend his free time as my chauffer was too much.

I followed him down the narrow, wood-paneled hallway to the office. It was the same hallway where Luke had first kissed me. The memory made my cheeks hot, but fortunately Ethan wasn’t paying me any attention.

I hadn’t told him about the kiss. Or about the subsequent kisses this morning on the hike. Mostly because I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to explain what was happening. It’s not like things were clear and simple with Luke and me. Technically, we weren’t dating. We were kissing.

And maybe a part of me knew that if I told Ethan that, he wasn’t going to like it.

Ethan ducked into the office, where Luke kept a hand-written schedule of who would be covering what areas of the restaurant on a given day. He studied it, frowning, while I waited in the doorway.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m on bar.”

Damn. I had been hoping to cover the bar. Instead, I was covering the floor, which meant carrying heavy trays of food back and forth, and constantly checking to see that everyone had what they needed. It was a lot more work than serving drinks behind the bar. Normally I would be thrilled, because the tips were better on the floor, but I was tired from my morning hike. I would have appreciated the chance to stand still for a while.

But Ethan hated working the bar. Small talk, friendly banter, providing a sympathetic ear? Absolutely not. He was the opposite of his older brother in that regard.

He stalked out of the office with me on his heels. We found him behind the bar, quartering lemons and limes in preparation for the evening rush.

“Bethany and I are swapping,” Ethan announced, which was news to me, but I wasn’t opposed.

Luke didn’t even glance up from the lemon he was slicing. “No.”

“You have her covering the floor with you and I’m on bar duty.” Ethan crossed his arms, his brows pushed together in a straight, angry line.

“That’s right.”

“I don’t want to be on bar. Make Bethany do it.”

“I don’t mind,” I chimed in.

“I mind.” Luke kept chopping. “We have three people working front of the house tonight. Jasmine is off. It takes two people to cover the tables, which leaves only one person covering the bar. So it has to be you, Ethan.”

“Why? Bethany’s been covering bar all week. She can handle it.”

“She can handle it when either Jasmine or I am backing her up. She’d be on her own tonight.”

“So?” Ethan said.

“So it’s Friday night. It gets rowdy.” Luke dumped a pile of lemons in one container, a pile of limes in another, and squatted down to put both in the fridge. I checked my girlish sigh over the way his muscled thighs strained against his jeans.

“Again…so?” Ethan asked.

Finally Luke looked up, splitting an annoyed glance between us. I mirrored Ethan’s position, arms crossed over my chest, brow furrowed. Because I had a feeling where this was going and I didn’t like it. Not one little bit.

The man was giving me whiplash. We couldn’t be back here again, in that terrible place where Luke thought I needed protection from men, either because I was a child or because I was naïve. If after everything this morning—the kissing, the heart-to-heart talk—he still insisted I was a little girl…

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