Page 16 of Never Sleigh Never
“I don’t need your help.” I reach for the napkins, but he puts them in his other hand and stretches it out of reach. “You are such a five-year-old.”
With each passing second, the crowd in Sip and Sleigh grows more interested in our interaction like a live-stream fight night. I’m waiting for them to take bets.
“Thankfully, I have plenty of napkins for the both of you.” I turn around, and Sloane tosses a stack of napkins over the counter that rain down on us like confetti. “Now you can both clean it up.”
With a stack of napkins in hand, I crouch and blot furiously. “Pack up your carnival yet?”
“Nope.” He continues to dab at the coffee spill.
“Mount Holly isn’t big enough for two festivals.”
“Yours is a festival and mine is a carnival. Two different things.”
“It’s a moot point. They both serve the same purpose—to entertain the townsfolk of Mount Holly. As the future head coordinator of the Holly Jolly Festival, I need this year to be the best festival anyone in Mount Holly has ever seen, and there can’t be another festival ten minutes away.”
He pauses, looks at me, and arches a brow. “What you’re saying is you’re afraid of a little competition.”
“I am not afraid.”
“Sounds like you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared of you.”
“I think you are. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be pushing so hard.”
I inhale a sharp breath, my nostrils flaring. “You know what? Fine.” I jump to my feet, and Logan does the same. “You continue with your little carnival, but I will give this town a Christmas festival they’ll never forget.”
“That’s the spirit.” He reaches up and plucks something off my shoulder. “Also… I believe these are yours.”
My cheeks blaze the same exact shade of red as the cotton panties with lace side embellishments he’s dangling in front of me. “So you’ve come here to steal not only the attention away from my festival but also my underwear.” I rip them from his grasp and ball them into my fist.
The sexy dimple on his left cheek plays peek-a-boo. “No, I’m trying to help you so the rest of Mount Holly doesn’t also see your underwear. You’re welcome. I never expected someone as icy as you would wear something with lace. You seem like you’d take comfort over sexy.”
“I’ll have you know they’re both stylish and comfortable.” Fantastic. This morning’s bingo card didn’t include “discuss my panties with Logan Crawford.” And yet the heat in his gaze says he’ll be thinking about them—and, ugh, me—for the rest of the day. Do not picture what he’d do while thinking about them. Do not?—
He slowly lifts his chin until his gaze drifts over my shoulder and points to the display case. “I’ll have one of those red velvet cupcakes too. Suddenly, it’s my new favorite color.” He glances down at me and winks before sauntering to the counter.
All the words fail me. I shove the underwear into my pocket like this is my normal life and not a waking fever dream. A quarter of the town has now seen my underwear and by noon, the other three-quarters will have heard about my underwear. I’m rooted in place. What the fuck just happened? What was his comment about red being his favorite color and the wink? Or the dimpled smirk. My thighs press together without permission. The picture is permanently etched in my brain. Son of a bitch. I spent all of last night rehashing my confrontation with him on the side of the road. Now I have this encounter. Suddenly, my head and vagina are at war with each other. There can only be one winner. And it can’t be the latter.
“Add another of whatever Brie’s drinking to my tab,” he tells Sloane. “She looks like she needs it. Also, can I hang a poster for my carnival?”
My ears perk up. Posters. Already? Yesterday, he had an empty field. How in the hell did he get posters made?
“Yeah, of course. There’s a bulletin board by the front door. There should be some tacks over there as well.”
“Thanks, Sloane.” He grabs his coffee, the to-go bag and turns. “Good to see you again, Brie.”
“I hope Santa brings you everything you deserve.” I plaster a fake smile on my face.
He chuckles before brushing past me. Goosebumps sprint up my arm as his captivating, clean, manly scent wafts past me. He crouches at the bulletin board to set his coffee and bag on the floor. My traitorous gaze drops and lingers on the way his tight jeans perfectly mold to his ass and cling to his muscular thighs.
“Ahem.” Sloane’s cough snaps my eyes back where they belong.
A cold dread washes over me. I’ve been caught. A beaming smile covers her face. Instead of confessing my sins, I divert. “Why didn’t you tell me about the underwear clinging to my sweater?”
“I believe I tried, but someone shushed me.”
…Right. That happened.
