Page 10 of The Mistletoe Bluff
I picked up my phone, but instead of Maya’s name, the screen flashedDad.
Great. What does he want now?
I swiped open the message.
Dad
Are you coming to Christmas dinner at your mother’s?
I rolled my eyes.
This was another question I had been avoiding for weeks. My mum lived here half the year, not far from Meridel. Her family was from Iowa, and it was hard for her to be in England away from them all the time, so a few years ago she decided to live in the States for part of the year. The time my parents spent apart weakened their relationship, and now he only cared if I was at dinner so that I could be a buffer between them.
Once again, using me.
I was sick and tired of being used.
I sighed, clicking the screen off. My dad had already waited this long for a response. What was a little bit longer? I had finished editing those photos and was on my official break now. I didn’t owe my dad anything else.
I took a bolstering breath and forced my limbs to climb out of the car. I ran a hand down my coat to smooth it out before doing the same with my hair and the short beard on my face.
My heart was like a stampede in my chest as I headed inside to face Maya Beck.
Well. Here goes nothing.
Maya
Hey, Paul. Did ya miss me?” I bounced up to the counter with a bright smile on my face, resting my elbows on it like we were old friends.
Paul’s head snapped up, and a deep scowl marred his lips when his eyes connected with mine.
“Oh great. You’ve returned,” he deadpanned. “To what do I owe this displeasure?”
I arched a brow. “Are you this nice to all your customers, Paul, or do you reserve this pleasant attitude just for me?”
His scowl deepened making him look like the grumpy cat meme. I didn’t know it was physically possible for lips to turn down that far.
Instead of responding to my goading, he just blinked at me, waiting for an answer.
“Oh, is that morse code?” I asked, pointing at his blinking eyes. “Are you trying to tell me something?” Leaning closer, I whispered, “Are you in trouble, Paul? Do you need me to get you out of here?”
Paul’s eyes fluttered close with a groan, and he rubbed at his temples. I dropped my fake smile and gave him a scowl of my own.
“Look, Paul. Someone is meeting me here to pay for the car scratch.”
“Oh goody.” He rolled his eyes and went back to his computer. When I didn’t move from my spot at the counter he added, “Why don’t you go wait somewhere else until they show up then. Anywhere but next to me.”
I tried to give a flirty growl-purr thing, but I had a feeling it sounded more like I was choking on the words instead of being flirtatious. “I bet you just have the ladies all over you with that lovely disposition.”
Paul ignored my jab and kept working. I gave an unattractive snort before adjusting my purse to go sit in the chairs along the wall, checking my watch while I walked. I was a few minutes early. I took a seat in the gross plastic chair next to the door. I wanted to see who the car scratcher was before they saw me.
And yes, I realized how stupid that was.
Something about seeing them first eased a bit of anxiety over this meeting.
My palms were cold and clammy, and I rubbed them against my jeans, trying in vain to dry them in case I needed to shake the stranger’s hand for some reason. There was nothing worse than a wet handshake. A squeezing feeling constricted my chest making it difficult to breathe.
I didn’t know why I was anxious. The person—whoever they may be—was coming to fork over two grand and then they would leave, and this would all be over. I’d get my car fixed and be on my merry way.
