She’s basically in the same bracket as a car salesman. You can’t trust them, and I can’t trust her.
“I’ll go put this in the front seat of my car,” Mom says, stepping back. “And I think I have an extra set of mittens in there too. You can use them.”
“Oh, I’m fine.” Stella stuffs her hands into her pockets. “See? All better now.”
My mom doesn’t say anything else but instead heads to where her car is parked, and I know damn well when she returns, she’ll have a pair of mittens.
As soon as she’s out of sight, Stella’s eyes narrow to slits. “Wipe that smirk off your face, Outlaw. Don’t even think those treats were for you.”
“You don’t have to be bashful, Fireball,” I taunt her. “I see what you’re up to. You really wanted to have your way with me the other night. I wouldn’t let you, so you brought a box of baked goods in hopes it would sweeten me up and make me change my mind.” I shake my head, raising my brows playfully. “Sorry, babe. It’s not gonna work.”
“You’re absolutely infuriating,” she growls lowly, pulling her hands from her pockets to fold her arms over her chest.
She looks sort of like Tinker Bell right now, only … one in the North Pole, and instead of blonde hair, hers is auburn.
A huge-ass smirk is tugging at my lips, but I fight it off, even though it’s hard. This woman is a goddamn pest. But, Jesus, she’s fun to piss off and even more fun to look at when she’s mad.
Before I can say something to make her cheeks redder with fury, my mom returns. And just as I suspected, she’s holding a spare pair of fuzzy mittens.
“These are brand-new—never been worn, I promise,” she says, pushing them toward Stella. “You can keep them. I have about ten pairs.”
“I’m really fine, Mrs. Adams,” she says, smiling politely. “I just wanted to bring over the bakery goodies and get a bit of fresh air.” She glances from my mother to me, bobbing her head. “Think I’ll, uh … get going now. I need to run to the market to get a few things.”
As she starts to turn, my mom stops her. “Wait,” she calls out, probably louder than she meant to, and when Stella looks at her, my mom cocks her head to the side. “Ridge was just going to town to get a Christmas tree. Why don’t you catch a ride with him? It’s supposed to snow a bit in the next hour or so; it could get slippery on the roads.”
I crane my neck to give my mother a glare, but she keeps her eyes fixed on Stella.
“Oh, uh …” When Stella pauses, I look at her to find her eyes on mine. “That’s okay. I’m sure Ridge wants to do that alone—or with someone. Just not … me.” She swallows harshly. “I’ll get back before the snow starts, I’m sure.”
Stella holds her hand up to wave before turning again, but this time, she starts to actually walk away. I know my mom isn’t going to let this go, but it’s still worth a try.
“Well, guess I’d better get going before all the trees sell out,” I utter, turning on my heel. I don’t even turn away before my mom’s hand is on my arm.
“Hold your horses, boy,” she warns. “You’re taking her with you. It’s the polite thing to do.”
I stare at her in disbelief because why in the hell would my mother want any of her sons to hang around a woman like Stella, who is here, acting like our land is a piece of fucking meat at the grocery store? She doesn’t get it. To Stella, all her and her colleagues see is dollar signs.
“Mom,” I grumble, “she’s annoying. I couldn’t give two shits about a tree. I’m doing it for you though because for some reason, you hate the thought of me enjoyingnothaving to water a goddamn tree or sweep up its damn pine needles. Now, you want me to takeher?” I jerk my chin up the driveway, where Stella is getting farther and farther away. “She’s the enemy.”
“And that right there is why I want you to take her,” she explains. “If Riley took her, he’d fall in love, and I don’t trust her just yet. If Tucker took her, he’d melt the first time she spoke to him, and she’d take our land.” She pats my back. “But you, Ridge? I know damn well that she’ll never get anywhere with you when it comes to this shorefront. But it’s almost Christmas. And instead of being back in the city with her friends and family, preparing for the holidays, she’s here, working on something that she’ll never win. The least you can do is take the damn girl to the tree farm.”
I open my mouth to tell her another reason why I don’t want to take this woman with me, but she gives me her signature look. It’s the look that says,Shut the fuck up, boy, and do what you’re told. I created your ass.
“Fine,” I gripe.
Soon, I’m groaning and sulking as I make my way toward my truck. Just before I get to it, my dad emerges from the other sideof the boat, where he was rechecking the blocking for the tenth time.
“Where are you off to?” he hollers.
“Crabby Jon’s,” I say, sounding as unimpressed as I actually am.
“Oh fuck,” he mumbles. “Have fun with that.”
“Yeah. Right,” I say before climbing in my truck and slamming the door.
It’s one thing to enjoy getting under Stella’s skin. It’s another to go to a fucking Christmas tree farm with the woman and pretend like I don’t absolutely hate her.
I fight back a shiver when I hear a truck driving closer to me as I head back up the driveway that leads to the lobster pound owned by the Adams. I’m a New Yorker, so cold winters are nothing new to me, but in New York, I’m not trudging through no-man’s land with the cold ocean air whipping in my face the way I am right now. My fingers, even now in my pockets, feel like they may fall off. I should have taken those mittens.
