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I run a hand over my beard. “Not sure what tonight is going to look like, exactly,” I say.
“Well, Holly will be there with Truman, so, it should be a real fun time,” Sarah says with a snort.
I look at Holly who is elbowing her friend. “Don’t be like that.”
“Be like what?” Sarah says playfully. “Everyone knows a preacher is just the most fun guy to have around on Saturday night.”
“Did someone say fun guy?” asks a clean shaven man who joins the group.
“Hey, Truman,” Lila says. “We were just talking about the dance tonight. You ready to go shot for shot?”
“Stop it,” Holly says, shaking her head at her friends, silently urging them to cut out their inside jokes.
I just want to know who this guy is; the guy who is reaching for Holly’s hand.
Before he can take it, I reach out my own, to shake his. I don’t want to see another man’s fingers laced with hers.
She’s mine.
“I’m Hunter Blake,” I tell him gruffly, shaking his hand. It’s clammy. And weak.
“I’m Truman Prestley. Pleasure.” He gives me a smug smile. “And how do you know these lovely gals?”
I swallow hard at his word, ‘gals’. Who the fuck talks like that?
“Holly and I used to live together,” I tell him, wanting my words to sting.
Truman purses his lips together, then his eyes widen as it dawns on him. “You are the Hunter.” Truman gives me a fake smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“And I haven’t heard a thing about you,” I say, knowing I’m not acting like the bigger person. I just have a need to get under this guys skin.
“Well, for starters, I’m Holly’s boyfriend. We’ve been together almost six months.”
I look at Holly for confirmation of this and her eyes have dropped, her cheeks red.
Running a hand over my beard, I give him shrug. “Lucky man. Holly is one of a kind.”
“She certainly is,” Truman says, turning to the girl I’ll be taking home later. “Speaking of, Holly, should I pick you up at eight for the dance?”
She nods. “That would be great, Truman, thanks.”
He gives her a hug, but it’s either awkward because Sarah, Lila, and I are all staring at them or it’s awkward because these two have zero chemistry.
I’m choosing to believe the latter.HollyTruman walks away and I turn back to my friends and Hunter.
Hunter. The bad boy from the other side of the tracks. The one who held my heart and broke it. The one who didn’t keep his promises but whose kisses I can’t seem to get out of my mind.
He is here.
Sarah and Lila understand the weight of this. I moved back in town a few months ago but they know the long history this mountain holds for me.
I was the daughter of the town preacher, and now, Truman works at the same church as a new pastor in training, having just completed seminary. Which is where we met … and where I pretended to fall in love.
Moving here made sense. I was done with my degree, and Truman was moving to my hometown and so … here we are. And so is Hunter.
“I think we’re just gonna pop over to the bakery for those cookies,” Sarah says. “But we’ll see you at the dance, right Hunter?”
He nods gruffly and they walk away, heads close together, already discussing all the implications of Hunter returning to town.
“You’re volunteering?” he asks, jutting his chin out toward the line of kids eagerly awaiting a photo with Santa,
“I’m the new hospitality chair for Mistletoe. ”
“They teach that at bible college?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say twisting my lips. “Do unto others, that sort of thing.”
“Suits you,” he says, his hand moving to my shoulder, his thumb brushing against my cheek. It’s hard to breathe with him so close. With him here, next to me. His touch, even through all these layers is like a jolt of heat. Electricity.
“I should get back. I have a few more hours for the shift.”
“Of course.” Hunter steps back, his hands now shoved in his coat pockets.
“Will you be in town long?” I ask, knowing there is a hopeful tone to my voice. I don’t try to stop it. I want it to be heard.
“I hope so, Holly Saint Claire.”
“I hope so too.”
At that, Hunter walks away, and I return to the line of eager children. But my eyes follow Hunter as he weaves through the crowds of shoppers. My eyes follow Hunter’s, knowing my heart has never once looked away.* * *“That was a lot of fun,” I tell Todd as he pulls off his white wig and beard. He’s normally the cocky bar owner in town, but with the beard and Santa suit he comes off as a jovial St. Nick.
“The kids are cute. Not that I want any of my own, anytime soon — but they were pretty adorable.”
