Finley
I’m instantly captivated by vendors. The first stall on the right glitters with rows of candles in glass jars. Mallory tugs me inside, then abandons me to pick up jar after jar, sniffing like she’s a bloodhound looking for a hidden treat.
“Does Finley like candles, Alex?” Tyler’s voice comes from behind me, laced with challenge.
I turn around and see Alex leaning in the entrance, arms crossed, while Tyler scans the shelf of Christmas scents.
“What woman doesn’t like candles?” Alex answers, deadpan.
“I wasn’t asking about any woman,” Tyler’s eyes flicks to me. “I was asking about Finley.”
“Of course I love candles.” I stride over and grab Alex’s arm, tugging him into the stall before he can object. My stomach dips, but at least he didn’t recoil from my touch. Tyler already caught me crying earlier, and the last thing I need is to fuel his suspicions. Alex and I agreed to be friends. Friends can touch, right? Plus, I’m sure he wants to sell this as much as I do.
“In fact,” I add, forcing a bright tone, “Alex is going to help me pick out one for my apartment.”
“Good idea,” Alex says smoothly. “Especially since the pine scented candle in your living room is almost gone.”
He stops in front of a display, lifts a jar, and scowls at the label. “Burnt sugar cookie?” He shoots me a questioning look. “Who actually wants their house to smell like burnt cookies?”
“Hey, Santa loved my burnt sugar cookies when I was little.” I laugh as I take it from him, then lift it to my nose and sniff. “Besides, this smells nothing like my cookies. This is cookie dough mixed in with a campfire.” Then I hold it up for him to smell.
“Weird combination.” Alex leans closer and inhales, before making a face. “A poor substitute for how the kitchen smelled this morning.”
“You’re right.” I set the jar back on the shelf.
“Whenever I want to smell baked goods,” Alex says, “I’ll just ask you to bake something.”
“I thought Finley didn’t have time to bake,” Tyler cuts in, now standing next to Alex and eyeing the candles like they personally offended him.
I smile up at him. “While I’d love to bake everything from scratch like your mom, sometimes it’s box brownies and refrigerated cookie dough.”
“Which,” Alex says with the confidence of a man defending a hill he’s willing to die on, “is surprisingly good straight out of the tube.”
I blink at him, trying to picture buttoned-up Alex sneaking cookie dough out of a plastic tube. “Maybe it’s time you learn to bake too,” I say. “Asking me to do it is a little chauvinistic, don’t you think?”
Alex’s eyes widen slightly, but if we were a real couple, I wouldn’t be at his beck and call to bake. It’s the twenty-first century. He’s just as capable of dropping tube cookie dough on a sheet and sticking it in an oven. And as far as me coming across as contrary, real couples bicker. It’ll add more authenticity to our situation.
And maybe, I’m still a little salty. Not that I’ll admit it.
“Yeah,” Alex says, looking properly chastised. “You have a point. I’ll bake next time.”
Tyler grunts something unintelligible and stalks off to the other side of the tent.
When I’m sure Tyler’s out of earshot, and Mallory’s engrossed in a candle, I lower my voice and look up at Alex. “What did you and Tyler argue about in the Jeep?”
His face darkens. “You caught that, did you?”
“I’d have to be blind not to.”
He moves to a new display and lifts a candle, and I follow him. I think he’s not going to answer, but he says, “He was being an asshole big brother.”
“Were you fighting about me?”
He looks startled. “Sort of. But it was more about me. Tyler’s always been…” He makes a face and shakes it off. “Don’t worry about Tyler. He’s not upset with you.”
“Mallory said Tyler thinks you brought me here to get Grant’s bed.”
He frowns. “I wish she hadn’t told you that.”
