Page 19 of The Holiday Grump
“Don’t even think about it.” Fredrik snapped his fingers in front of Jackson’s face as he kept staring at me with an exaggerated, love-drunk expression.
Jackson’s smile was gorgeous, his ice-blue eyes playful. Everything about his outfit seemed carefully chosen, from his leather boots to an expensive watch.
“But she’s so pretty,” Jackson protested, still looking at me. “And she’s dressed like a rainbow candy cane.”
My cheeks heated, and I shoved my beret into my pocket.
“Jackson. Behave.” Fredrik’s voice dropped into a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.
“Apologies.” Jackson smiled at me, dropping the act. “It’snot every day you meet a beautiful young lady… willingly spending time with our Teddy.” He elbowed Fredrik.
“What are you even doing here?” Fredrik asked.
“Three-for-one whoopie pies!” He grinned, gesturing at the cabinet.
I began to understand Fredrik’s hesitation. He hadn’t invited me to join him. He’d offered tobringme a pie. Big difference. I’d attached myself to him without realizing it. I only wanted to see the town with a local guide. Okay, maybe I wanted that guide to be Fredrik, with his signature frown and sexy elbow patches, but still.
We finally reached the counter and bought our pies: three sweet ones to split, plus chicken pastries for lunch. Before I even reached for my wallet, Fredrik had paid for everything.
“Thank you,” I said as he handed me the bags. “I’ll pay you back.”
“I’d love to check out your shop,” Jackson said as we stepped away.
“It’s not open yet. Maybe tomorrow.”
Fredrik gave me a doubtful look.
“Okay, maybe in a couple of days,” I corrected. “I tend to be overly optimistic about what I can achieve in a short time.”
“Me too!” Jackson echoed. “I thought I’d get a new floor down in one of our properties today, but… eh. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Jackson’s family renovates old houses,” Fredrik explained.
“Lovingly restores,” Jackson corrected. “We specialize inhistorical buildings.” He slipped me a gold-foiled business card, wiggling his eyebrows.
I stared at it. “I don’t own any historical or other?—”
“She doesn’t need your services.” Fredrik plucked the card from my hand. “Her employer might, though. You should see the shoddy job they did on her shop. Remember that real estate agency on Hideaway Ave? They split it into three units. Hers doesn’t even have running water.”
“What?” Jackson looked appalled.
“They said it’s coming,” I added quickly. “They just haven’t installed the sink yet. Or the bathroom.”
I’d received an email from the shop owner explaining that I could use the library’s facilities during the day. Clearly, he assumed I had other accommodations. I wasn’t going to correct him, and I didn’t need anyone else to do it either. If Jackson reported my landlord, I’d be out of both a job and a place to stay.
With our pies in hand, Fredrik made for the door but was stopped by two older ladies bombarding him with questions about his parents and the bookstore. I hung back with Jackson.
When they finally let him go, Fredrik stepped outside like he’d come up for air. I felt guilty for putting him through it.
Jackson stuffed his pies into his coat pockets and clapped Fredrik’s back. “I’ll come around later to work on the house.” He nodded at his motorcycle, then winked at me. “And I’ll see you as soon as your shop opens. I need me some tinsel.”
“Sure thing!” I grinned, watching him hop on his bike and roar off.
“If he tries to give you his number again, burn it,” Fredrik muttered. “He’s… trouble.”
I shrugged. “I do attract trouble. But he’s not my type.”
“No elbow patches?” He gave me a suspicious look, like he expected me to confess I’d been mocking him.
