Page 15 of Never Sleigh Never
“You too,” Willa replies.
“Brie, it was good to see you as well.” She lifts her brows in acknowledgment but doesn’t say a word. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
From the corner of the bar, Cara’s voice comes over the microphone. “The winner is… number ten!”
I glance down at the white ticket in my hand. “Huh. Look at that, I won.”
Willa and Sloane cheer while Brie drops her gaze back to the condensation on her glass. If she wants to play childish games, I have an eleven-year-old who’s taught me the best. I stroll to the front, collect my package of steaks, and return to my spot at the bar. If day one back in Mount Holly has been this exciting, I’m looking forward to what the days leading up to Christmas will bring.
Six
Peek-A-Boo
Brie
I stir awake and crack an eyelid. A sliver of blinding sunlight cuts through a narrow gap in the curtains. I groan and bury my face in the pillow. Sleep evaded me for most of the night. I was hoping the bottomless cocktails Willa and Sloane fed me after my second encounter with Logan would make me forget yesterday ever happened. Unfortunately, all it provided was a throbbing in my temples reminding me that yesterday happened, and Logan’s back in town.
Since he was pretty adamant about the carnival, my chances of convincing him to leave Mount Holly altogether are slim. Avoiding him is not an option unless I lock myself in my house and never leave. Sadly, Mount Holly is sorely lacking when it comes to keeping up with grocery delivery trends. Pretending Logan doesn’t exist might be my only option, at least until after the holidays. The festival needs my full attention. Logan’s only a distraction. Also, when did he get so attractive? If I threw a piece of duct tape over his mouth to keep him from talking, I could probably—nope. Abort. A flush creeps up my neck, prickling my skin with shame. What the hell is wrong with me? It’s been way too long since I’ve had sex.
After a quick shower and mascara that promises to “conquer the world,” I stroll into Sip and Sleigh. The fresh aroma of coffee beans and pastries already brighten my day. I queue behind an older couple and scroll my favorite Christmas blog. Emma St. Claire always offers the best tips and tricks for decorating for the holidays. She even travels to various Christmas festivals around the world. A vibrant warmth blossoms in my chest with each new pin on the map, charting her adventures. Her travels have included Vienna, France, Germany, and Toronto. She’s even blogged about Oglebay’s Winter Festival of Lights in Wheeling, West Virginia. Along with the blog, she also publishes a yearly magazine, Home for the Holidays. The magazine has a Best Hometown Christmas contest where Emma travels to the top three choices to pick the winner herself. Each year, I apply, describing the tradition and excitement of the Holly Jolly Festival, and every year I get the same thank-you-but-not-this-year response.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Sloane greets me. It’s nice to see you’re alive and well. Your usual?”
“For good measure, make it a double.”
“You got it.”
As Sloane goes about making my drink order, I claim a small table near the window. I shrug out of my coat and set it over the back of the chair. I return to the counter just as she sets down my latte. Even though it’s piping hot, I take a small sip anyway. The caramel, milk, and espresso dance over my tastebuds. “Instantly, my day is already better.” I grip the cup with both hands and take another sip. “Have I told you I’m taking the high road regarding Logan? I can’t do anything about him being here or his carnival, so I’m going to ignore him.”
“That’s great, but I’ll warn you, maybe it’s best you not be here right now.”
“Why? Coming here every morning is my routine. Are you trying to ruin my routine?”
“No, but?—”
“I bet it has something to do with me.”
My stomach sours at the sound of his voice. Where’s the duct tape when a girl needs it? He may be ruining my Christmas, but he will not fuck with my morning routine. I square my shoulders and spin around, ready to face my problem. Instead, my hand smacks against his bicep, sending my cup soaring through the air. The latte arcs like a caffeinated comet and splashes across the floor.
Logan drops his gaze to the mess and deadpans, “You spilled your coffee.”
I glare at him. Which has become my permanent expression whenever he’s nearby. Fuck nice. He doesn’t deserve nice. He deserves a punch in the jugular. I’m not a violent person, but Logan certainly knows how to bring that to the surface. “I wanted to be nice?—”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, you’ve been very welcoming since I came to town.”
“Um. Brie?” Sloane calls.
Without turning around, I hold up a finger. “Not now, Sloane.”
“No, really?—”
“It’ll have to wait. I need to give Logan a piece of my mind.”
“Fine. Do it while you clean up the mess before someone slips and falls.” She slides a stack of napkins across the counter.
I snag them, but Logan plucks the napkins from my hands like a thief. “Hey! Those are mine.” Heat pricks my cheeks.
“I’m not trying to steal your napkins. I’m just helping clean up the mess.” With a frustrated huff, he squats and tosses a couple of the napkins onto the floor. The once-white napkins deepen to a brown hue as they soak up the liquid.
