Page 49 of The Mistletoe Bluff
“I want my photos to mean something. I want to do things that bring me joy instead of what’s necessary for a paycheck. Maybe someday I’ll have my own photography business. I don’t know. I just know that his plan for my life isn’t what I want.”
Maya nodded, biting her lip, and offering reassurance in the silent way only she could.
“So, you’ll help with the photoshoot?”
Her thumbs twiddled in her lap before she gave me a crooked smile. “I think I can make it happen.”
I grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Thank you, Maya.”
The tiny sign that told us we were entering Meridel appeared a while later. Night had descended, and the streets were devoid of all signs of life. Everyone had hunkered down for the storm, and Main Street was dark except for the string lights between the buildings. Everything was closed, and not a single car lined the road.
“I was going to get dinner for you before I took you home, but it looks like everything is closed,” I said, stomach sinking. My romantic plan for the day had been ruined by the snow.
At least you got an epic kiss out of it.
“That’s okay. I think I have some ramen in the pantry.”
Ugh. Just stick a knife in my heart.
“Ramen?”
She nodded. “It’s a delicacy for broke people in America.”
I winced, hating the mental image of Maya curled up with a bowl of noodles by herself. “Sorry, but you’re not eating ramen tonight.”
Maya laughed. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have another choice.”
“Yes, you do.”
She cocked her head. “Oh? Do tell.”
I gave her a smug look that made her gulp. “You’re coming to my place. I’ll cook you something better thanramen.”
Maya
Ikissed Oliver Lewis.
I wasn’t one for cursing, I preferred to make up outlandish, goofy sayings instead, but I had a whole line of expletives that I was screaming at myself inside my head. What was I thinking?
That kiss never should have happened.
But even worse, I had the niggling desire to do it again.
Maya, what the heck is wrong with you?
And, to top it off, Oliver shared that his dad had a habit of using him to get ahead, and that made me feel like the most horrible person because wasn’t that exactly what I was doing?UsingOliver to get to his dad and win the contest? My stomach twisted into knots.
And, like an idiot, I agreed to help him with that engagement shoot tomorrow. He was risking a lot for me by making his father agree to this. What if my photos weren’t any good? What if I let him down?
Countless more what-ifs floated through my mind, pummeling at my insides until every ounce of confidence I had in my skills was cracked, and only insecurity and doubt remained.
And to make matterseven worse, I was in Oliver’s townhouse, sitting on his couch, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and something smoky, like incense, that lingered in the air. The tree he picked out was leaning against the wall, still bundled in red string, and dripping melted snow onto the floor. There were a few decorations here and there, but it didn’t feel like Christmas was being shoved down my throat.
I glanced over my shoulder to where Oliver was cooking dinner in the kitchen. I should have been nice and offered to help, but at the moment, I couldn’t be anywhere near him. Since my need to hate him and my desire to kiss him again were at war with each other, I couldn’t be held accountable for whatever happened if I put myself near him.
But I couldn’t deny that Oliver had a way of bringing out a side of me that I didn’t usually let see the light of day. He saw the loud pieces that I let everyone see, but he also saw the anxious and hesitant parts that I desperately tried to keep hidden from everyone else—the things that might drive people to leave.
But Oliver wasn’t frightened by those fragile pieces of me. And, if I was honest, I didn’t hate that I was able to be myself around him—anxiety and all.
