Page 44 of A Gingerbread Romance

Jonathan’s jaw fell open. He’d paid Berg’s bills over the past few weeks, but they hadn’t spoken much. Berg had just sent emails assuring him things were going well, which, of course, Jonathan already knew. He swallowed and clamped his mouth shut.

“How’d you find out?” he asked quietly.

“That’s not the point, is it?”

His brow creased. “Greta, I just wanted to—”

“—You could’ve told me yourself. Instead, I had to hear it—accidentally, as it turns out—from Jocelyn tonight. How humiliating do you think it was for me,” she said, opening the car door as her voice grew louder by the second, “to find out that the consultant I’ve been dealing with for weeks was put there because of a sneaky little plan constructed by you? Someone I thought I could trust completely?” Her brows knit together and she climbed out of the car.

“Greta, wait!” Jonathan begged.

She slammed the door and began to march across her front walk. He hurried around the car to catch up to her. “Please. Can I explain?” he said, following closely.

She kept walking. “I don’t think we’ve ever talked about it, Jonathan, but I don’t appreciate being lied to, no matter what it’s about.” She paused, and he could almost see the wheels turning inside of her head. “And I guess Berg was in on it, too, huh? You told him not to tell me it was you, didn’t you? Because he was really vague about it when I asked him who hired him.” She rolled her eyes and rubbed her temple. “I can’t believe this. All this time, we’ve been…becoming friends, and then…getting involved, and now I find out that you were keeping a secret from me the whole time. And for what? I don’t get it.”

She marched away, then reached the porch and stormed up the stairs, grabbing the handrail so she wouldn’t slip in her heels on the remnants of snow and ice that still clung to it. “I just don’t get it,” she mumbled again, reaching the landing.

Jonathan skipped up the stairs, digging his hands into his pants pockets, his heart sinking. “Greta, please.” He had to make her see. “I knew you wouldn’t accept Berg’s help if it came from me. You had just found out your building was being sold and your rent was going up, and you told me the store was struggling—and I was the bad guy who was only making it worse because I arranged the sale. Remember?” he said as gently as he could. “I felt terrible. I wanted to do something to help you. I couldn’t watch your business get into trouble. So Wade referred me to Berg, and I set it up.”

Greta’s head shook slowly from side to side. “Okay, I get it. And I appreciate it, looking back at what we’ve done. But you let me think my grandmother was responsible for bringing him in—all this time.” One hand flew to her hip. “Jonathan, I’ve been trying to figure this out for weeks. Why would you just leave me in the dark about it?”

She didn’t wait for his answer, but dug into her purse and found her key, fitting it into the lock and turning it to release the bolt.

Jonathan dropped his gaze. “It was never the right time.” She had to understand. “I was afraid you’d fire him at first if you knew it was me, and then I was afraid I’d screw up the progress you guys were making.” He took a step closer to her, close enough to run his hands through the strands of her hair as he stood behind her. He wanted to reach out and touch her, grab her close to him, but it wasn’t right. “And then… I don’t know. I guess I was just afraid of… this,” he said quietly, her back to him.

Greta turned around and glared at him. “Is this what you meant when you said you’d hurt me? Because in my world, when someone says they’re in love with someone else, they don’t lie to that person.” She pushed the door open. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said curtly. “I hope you have a very merry Christmas.” Her words were on target, but her tone was off. She turned and stepped inside. “Goodnight, Jonathan.”

Jonathan blinked, staring at her under the low lights of the porch. He couldn’t leave things like this. “Greta, please. Wait.”

“I’m sorry,” she said without a trace of apology in her voice. “I just need to be alone right now.” She disappeared behind the door before it clicked shut in his face.

FOURTEEN

Greta sighed heavily into the phone, sipping a cup of coffee in her kitchen in her pajamas. The world outside was covered in a magical layer of fresh snow. Christmas morning had arrived in all its glory, but the emotions she felt were only shades of blue. And she would be spending today alone. She’d made that clear to Jonathan last night.

“He was doing you a favor, though, wasn’t he?” asked Abby mournfully.

Greta held up her cup and inhaled the rich aroma of the coffee, which warmed her from the inside out. She should’ve listened to her gut when it told her at the meeting with her new landlords that Jonathan was not to be trusted. But sadly, she’d fallen for his charm and his looks and his generosity, and now she was paying the price.

“I don’t know… Yes, I guess you could look at it that way,” said Greta glumly. “Hewasdoing me a favor.”

“I mean—yes, he totally should’ve told you about it,” Abby argued diplomatically, “especially after things started going well at the store.”

Darned right, he should have. He’d had every opportunity. Images flashed through her mind—how closely they’d sat together, talking and laughing at the bakery last weekend, and then at his apartment the other night, kissing and holding each other.

“But maybe he was right not to tell you at first because I can totally see you firing Berg just because you hadn’t been the one to ask for his help.” Abby paused. “You’re that stubborn, Greta.”

Greta frowned and opened her mouth to protest, but she sucked in a deep breath instead. Maybe Abby was right? Maybe she was being too hard on him. “But helied. How do I get past that?”

“Don’t get me wrong—I don’t condone lying. It was kind of a white lie, though, wasn’t it? Harmless, really? And he also paid for Berg’s services, and look at what’s happened to your store because of it,” Abby added.

“That’s true.” Greta had, of course, already thought about that. She might be in even worse financial trouble than she’d started out this month if it hadn’t been for Berg—because of Jonathan—but here she was, sitting pretty, on top of a profitable month.

And yes, she supposed she had put him in a difficult spot, refusing to accept his help, so it wasn’t surprising he’d chosen to keep his little scheme from her, at least for a while.

“Plus, he probably wasn’t cheap.”

Greta had seen the receipts in her inbox. No, Berg hadn’t come cheap.

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