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“Tada! What do you think? Isn’t she pretty?” I ask, bouncing.
But none of them seem as excited as I am.
“Yeah,” Heather tries—but I can tell she’s forcing it. “It’s a gorgeous car, Evie.”
“Definitely.” Ryan agrees, looking confused. “Real pretty.”
Kevin scratches behind his head. “Uh…it’s a Mustang, baby-doll.”
Yes, it is. Cherry red, with a white top and all mine.
“I know! I always wanted a Mustang.”
And then I look at Jace—because his reaction matters most of all. But his expression makes my heart shrivel a little inside my chest. Because Jace looks pissed-off. Like super pissed off.
Like his glare could melt snow, and burn Santa’s reindeer right out of the sky, kind of pissed off.
“Jace?”
“It’s a convertible, Evie,” he growls.
“Yeah, I know.” I say softly this time.
Jace holds his arms out—gesturing to the snowflakes falling all around us.
“It’s a goddamn convertible!” He points at the car. “Does it have rear-wheel drive?”
“Yes,” I admit, my face starting to feel hot.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to drive a rear-wheel drive, Mustang, fucking convertible around here? On these roads?” he snaps. “Dooney sold you this death trap? He didn’t even throw in chains or snow tires, the bastard.”
“It’s not a death-trap.” I argue. “It’s my dream car and I love it.”
“Oh yeah? Do you love breathing? Cause I give it a fucking week before we’re dragging you out of a ditch or scraping you off a tree.”
I fold my arms.
“You have a Harley, Jace.”
It’s dark blue, and shiny chrome, and seeing him ride it is an orgasm for the eyes.
“A Harley I drive a total of two weeks a year, when it’s not snowing.” He jabs his finger toward the black pickup parked across the lot. “The rest of the time, my ass is in a safe, reliable truck! What the hell were you thinking?!”
“Easy brother.” Kevin says, but Jace just continues to shoot blue daggers at me.
He holds out his hand and snaps. “Give me the keys. I’ll get your money back tomorrow. You’re not driving this.”
My grip on the keys tightens. And he notices.
“I’m an adult.” I lift my chin. “And I don’t need you—”
Then Jace does something he’s never done before.
He yells at me.
So loud and sharp, I jump.
“Fucking keys, Evie! Now!”
Jace is bossy and take-charge. He’s tough and stubborn. But he’s never been mean.
Until now.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment and my eyes go damp with hurt and fury. And I feel everyone—everyone that I care about—watching me. Watching us.
So I slap the keys in his stupid hand. Because for the first time in ever—I don’t want to be near him. And giving him the keys is the fastest, easiest way to get away.
With my head up and my shoulders straight, I turn my back on him and walk into the bar. Behind me, I hear comments—and it makes me feel better knowing my friends are on my side.
“Harsh, dude. Way harsh.”
“Nice job, Jace.”
“Merry fucking Christmas, everyone!”
“Way to be a ho, ho…asshole, man.”
Did I say Jace was perfect? That statement still stands. But at this moment, he’s a perfect jerk.Ten minutes later, I’m still in the breakroom—at the table, sucking on a candy cane within an inch of its life and about to cross out Jace’s name on the Naughty List with swift, murderous strokes of my pen.
But before I do, his voice comes from the doorway behind me. His normal voice now. Strong and steady and warm.
“That candy cane is looking pretty dangerous. Should I be worried?”
I glance at the peppermint stick in my hand—at the sharp, pointy-tipped weapon I’ve sucked it into.
I put the pen on the table and shrug. “Maybe.”
I fiddle with a corner of the paper on the table, as Jace walks into the room.
“I’ll stab you in the heart and eat it after. The perfect crime.” I tell him. “Bet you thought I was too stupid to think of that.”
He sighs.
And pulls out the chair next to me, sitting on it backwards, the way guys do.
“I never said you were stupid, Eves.”
My heart feels sore. Achy.
“You implied it. Same thing.”
He’s quiet for a few moments and I don’t look at him, but I feel the touch of his eyes on me.
“I was a dick,” he says gently.
“Yup.”
“And I’m sorry.”
I look at him then. And God, he’s beautiful. It’s really not fair. His gorgeous mouth is heavy at the corners and his eyes are sky-blue, soft with remorse.
“Can I have my keys back?”
He snorts. “I’m not that fucking sorry.”
I roll my eyes, “Jace—”
“I’ll take you car shopping. We’ll go this weekend. For a different car—something you’ll love as much as the Mustang but that will keep you safe.” His voice goes raw. Strained. “You’re important to me, Evie. If something ever happened to you . . . I’d lose my mind.”
His words are like a balm to my heart, and the bruised feelings disappear, replaced with something warmer, lighter, more exciting. Hope. Joy. Maybe even the spirit of Christmas, which makes any wish come true.
