Page 26 of Mad About Yule

“If you say so.”

This man and his skepticism. “What’s wrong with Sunshine? It’s beautiful here.”

He makes a face. “Kind of small, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, some people like small towns, Mr. Metropolis. My store is here, my friends are here, everyone I love is here.”

His eyebrows twitch, drawing my focus back to the giant bruise on his face. Man, I feel bad about that, even when he seems determined to make me angry with him for all new reasons.

“Speaking of, who’s the lucky guy?”

I jerk my head back, totally lost. I should have taken him in for a brain scan when he was still wobbly. I might have been able to shove him out the door. “What guy?”

He waves a hand in my general direction. “Your fiancé.”

He puts a sarcastic spin on the word, emphasizing the French. Sympathy for his injury evaporates, and something hard and cold settles in my stomach. After everything this summer, that word dredges up a deep-seated urge to throat-punch somebody.

Griffin’s closest, so…

It’d been too much to hope he hadn’t been part of the gossip mill. But of course he’d heard. At least, he’s heardsomeof the gossip—clearly not all. Maybe he knows the rest and is just trying to be a jerk and make me say it, but it sounds like a sincere question.

“I don’t have a fiancé,” I say coolly.

His face contorts into something like panic. “You already got married? That was kind of a rush, wasn’t it?”

This guy has no idea how close he is to getting smacked in the head again.

“I don’t have a fiancé, and I’m not married.”

He swallows like he’s unable to process that. “I heard you were engaged.”

And there it is. Sunshine’s residents need to figure out a way to use their powers for good instead of evil.

“Of course you did.”

I spin on my heel and put on my coat, wind my scarf too tightly around my neck, yank on my gloves, and pull my hat down so it covers my ears. Not enough to drown out Griffin trying to figure out my romantic situation, though.

“Did I hear wrong? Some guy in Bend? I heard it from like four different people.”

“Stop talking.” I raise a hand between us as though I can telepathically shove him against the wall. I blow out a breath, already way too hot with all these layers of knit and anger on me. “For a smart guy, you’re dumb with people, you know that?”

He presses his lips together, clearly not liking that assessment, but at least it shuts him up. He’s exactly like he was ten years ago—he doesn’t know when to stop pushing buttons. By accident or design, he inevitably hitsdetonate.

“There’s no fiancé,” I say slowly. I will only go over this once. “No husband, no boyfriend, no long-distance love. Just me. And I don’t need commentary on my love life or lack thereof. Got it?”

“Got it. Just you.”

He stares at me for ten whole seconds, this weird light in his eyes making me itchy. Like my clarification has shifted his opinion of me, but not in the direction I’d expected. Most people find it funny, maybe even pitiable. Griffin’s looking at me like he’s intrigued by something.

I’m not in the mood to stick around to find out exactlywhat.

“I need to go open my store.” I walk out of the warehouse almost wishing I’d let Mom make that call to her contractor.

NINE

GRIFFIN

“Areyou gracing me with your presence for dinner tonight?” Mom calls when I walk through her front door. I stop in for dinner a couple of times a week, but she still manages to make it sound like a surprise every time.

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