Page 11 of The Mistletoe Bluff
Nothing anxiety inducing about that. Right?
Too bad my body hadn’t gotten the memo yet.
I pulled out my phone and opened the Sunflower Fields email inbox, praying that there would magically be more photography inquiries that would bring in more money, so I didn’t have to work as many hours at Dina’s, but of course my inbox still had a big red zero over it, stabbing my dream in the heart for the umpteenth time.
My mind swirled in self-pity, distracting me so thoroughly that when the door to the shop opened and closed, I didn’t even pay any attention to the man who walked in.
At least until I heard his voice.
“Hey, mate. I’m supposed to pay for some damage to a car.”
My heart went ballistic, ratcheting to an unhealthy pace, my pulse thudding against my eardrums.
No. No no no no.
I knew that voice, that accent, far too well.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I exclaimed aloud, though I hadn’t meant to.
The guy spun on his heel, eyes wide for a moment before he shoved his hands in his pockets and gave me a smirk. “Oh, Maya. Hi.”
Oliver Lewis stood there, looking his usual smug self, with those black-frame glasses and stubble on his face that was somewhere between a five o’clock shadow and a full beard. The coat he wore screamed “I’m made of money” which made me want to pull all the metal buttons off it.
Of course, it was Oliver. Because why not? That was par for the course of my life. Why did I ever expect anything less? I should have listened to my gut and figured out how to pay for it myself.
“It wasyou?” I snapped, stomping up to him until there were inches between us. His sweet and smoky scent wafted into my nose, bringing back the memory of falling into his arms on the last day of photography class. Phantom hands grabbed my waist, and my ears grew hot. I swallowed and took a step back.
To my surprise, a pink tint colored Oliver’s cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off.
“Did you scratch my car on purpose?”
Oliver blinked at me. “You think I would do that?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Why’s that, Maya?”
A sliver of my resolve crumbled when he said my name.
Dang you, you blasted Brit and that infernal accent.
“Because you like to ruin my life, so why wouldn’t you scratch my car too?”
His eyes went wide, his mouth gaping as if he were surprised. “I didn’t ruin your life.”
“You certainly did.”
Oliver’s eyes softened. “Maya—”
“If you two quarreling lovebirds are about finished, can we get to the part of paying for the car so you both can get the heck out of my shop?” Paul interrupted in an annoying droning voice.
“We’re not lovebirds,” I snapped at the same time Oliver said, “We’re finished.”
Why didn’t he deny the lovebirds thing?
“No, we’re not finished,” I bit out, grabbing Oliver’s arm, ignoring the jolt that went up my own in the process. “Excuse us for a minute, Paul.” I dragged my archnemesis over to the corner then crossed my arms.
“You’re not paying for my car, Oliver.”
