Page 14 of Mad About Yule

I can’t disagree…but Ireallycan’t admit it, either.

“Speaking of, you should probably get back in the bakery. Wouldn’t want your customers to leave empty-handed.” I sweep my hand to shoo her out, but she doesn’t make a move.

“Nice try. Tess is on counter duty.”

They keep Blackbird’s Bakery in the family: Wren, her older sister Tess, and their mom Maureen. Tess’s five-year-old son acts as their unofficial cutie pie mascot and should probably be on the payroll for his adorableness.

I envy how well their family works together. I’d maxed out at eight months working for my mom’s real estate firm, and I’d wanted to quit for a solid six of them.

Honestly, even the first two hadn’t been so hot.

“Was he wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up?” Wren asks. “I swear that’s all that man owns.”

I turn away before she can see the truth in my face. Sleeves rolled up, forearms at the ready—he’d shown me the works. Whatever else I want to pretend, I hadn’t totally missed his looks. The flannel! The russet scruff on his jaw! His strong hands! Skill with power tools should not be a turn-on, but here we are.

“I’m too busy to think about Griffin.”

It’s like my new hobby consists solely of lying through my teeth at every opportunity.

“Come on,” Wren says. “I tell you every time Shepherd comes into the bakery all broody and greasy and angry at the world to order his slice of pie for the week.”

I spin back around. “You don’t tell me what your next-door nemesis is wearing, though.”

Nemesis feels like a strong word for a guy who’s never done worse than goad her a little and buy a pie from her every week, but I can’t dispute her inability to get along with the bike shop owner.

“Indulge me.”

“Fine. Griffin was wearing flannel when he swooped in with a bunch of criticism and suggestions like he thinks he’s king of the project. He’s exactly like he was in high school—his confidence crosses the line into arrogance, and everything he says comes across as condescending. If anything, he’s evenmoresure of himself now, which seems like it should be scientifically impossible. The ego on that man is blinding.”

It wasn’t all in the things he’d said—although that had been plenty. He’d walked around with this cocky swagger like he owned the whole warehouse. He hadn’t asked questions so much as he’d demanded information and offered unsolicited suggestions. Maybe most obviously of all, he didn’t care a bit about what I thought of him. That alone proves intimidating, since I care about whateveryonethinks of me.

Wren looks like I just handed her a Christmas present. “You’rereallyworked up about him.”

She’s right. I shouldn’t let him rile me up this way. It’s a bad sign for our working relationship for the next few weeks. Still, she doesn’t have to bob her eyebrows as if that means something.

“You’re a bad friend. Genuinely. The worst friend I’ve ever had for twenty years.”

“Aw. You love me, though.” Some of her giddiness fades out. “Do you think he’ll do a good job with your Winter Wonderland?”

“He used to build houses for a living. I’m sure he can handle making a few fake ones.” I chew my bottom lip, picturing the side of the house he’d had laid out on the floor when I left. “Actually…he’s already done more in a couple of hours than Silas probably would have done all day.”

There are some advantages to working with a guy under thirty. His massive ego being the most obvious disadvantage.

Wren keeps her eyes on me, applying pressure. “Are you two going to murder each other? Because there were some close calls in debate class.”

And American History. And English Literature. We’d even found ways to argue in Chemistry, but that makes sense, considering we were lab partners. Two volatile substances forced to share the same desk for a year.

“It’s fine. We’re adults. We’ll just…put all that behind us.”

She looks like she’s having flashbacks from all of our squabbles ten years ago. “That sounds real convincing.”

“I can get along with him for the sake of my Winter Wonderland.”

After that, he can go back to criticizing someone else.

FIVE

GRIFFIN

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