Page 13 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

“Please tell me you had sex with him?” Henry hisses, his arm linked through mine as we trudge down the snow-cleared sidewalk.

“Of course I haven’t, Henry. Jesus.”

But God, I wanted to last night. Until I got a reality check as good as a bucket full of ice water thrown on me in the middle of winter. Mav isn’t here to play games, unless it’s one where he wins Holly back. Heat floods my cheeks just thinking about the way he dismissed me. I couldn’t even admit to Henry what had happened. It’s all too pathetic.

The way he looked at me at the carol singing was an act. Even though he was giving me those deep brown eyes and rubbing my calves like I meant something to him. He’s playing the game to win, and I’m just a tool to get him closer to his goal.

After he told me to essentially stop eye-fucking him, I slipped into my bedroom, paced back and forth for five minutes at my stupidity, and then stewed. My emotions ranged from kicking him out of my house to going out and finding someone to have sex with. But even for me, trying to find a hookup on Christmas Day seemed like a low point.

I like sex. Before James and I started our regular thing, I’d often go into the city with some girlfriends to find myself a little fun. I’m not ashamed of that until someone uses it as a glaring character flaw. It doesn’t change what I think of myself as a person, but who wants to be rejected because of something so arbitrary? It’s embarrassing. And the worst part is I hadn’t even asked Mav for sex; he just knew I was clearly interested. If it wasn’t coming off the back of the humiliating ghosting from James, it probably wouldn’t have stung quite as much.

Well, one thing is for sure. Maverick Stone is never going to find out the thing I do with my tongue.

“Wouldn’t that be the ultimate revenge on Holly?” Henry interrupts my spiraling thoughts.

I’d filled Henry in on what James revealed about high school Holly and him. Henry gave me the appropriate amount of gasps and curses that I was looking for, and I felt significantly better. He’s a good friend. The best, really.

“I don’t need revenge. I’ve got you as a best friend, which means she’s always going to be lacking something perfect in her life.” I nudge him with my shoulder, and he rolls his eyes before quickly snapping his head toward the empty storefront next to the grocery store.

“Speak of the devil, and she doth appear,” he mutters.

I glance at what used to be Bear-y Hungry Bakery. It closed after forty years so that the previous owners, the Hensons, could move closer to their grandkids. They were a staple part of the community, and I know saying goodbye was hard for them. I can’t even imagine leaving the B&B, and I didn’t even set it up; my mom did. I just don’t think I could sell it to anyone. I don’t trust anyone enough with it. Even if the big, wide world is out there waiting to be explored, I have to remember I’m lucky to have what I have here with a community that loves me and my mom’s legacy.

Holly stands outside, her long blonde hair held down with a pair of white fluffy earmuffs, the rest of her bundled up in a cream-colored coat, her tight-fitting jeans styled with white fur-trimmed snow boots. She looks like a snow angel. Someone out of a Christmas advert.

She’s peering through the window, James talking animatedly next to her. He’s looking up at the “For Rent” sign and, I’d guess, taking down the number.

So she is going to stay here? And by the looks of it, she’s planning on reopening the Henson’s bakery. At least I’ll be able to offer guests morning muffins again.

James drops a chaste kiss on her lips, and my heart cinches.

“What an asshole. I should shit on his windscreen.”

“Henry!” I laugh, despite the sting in my eyes.

“What? It’s a lose-lose situation. Either he has to pick up my poop and get rid of it, or he has to use the wipers, smearing it all over the glass.”

“Oh my God.” My head throws back, and I almost slip on some ice. “You’re awful, you know that?”

“Babe, I’d do anything for you. Just say the word. My ass is primed and ready. Scott gave me enough leftovers last night to feed a small army.”

Ah, yes. Henry and Scott. Henry is obsessed with him, his cooking, his general grumpiness, his jawline, the bulge he caught once when he lifted his arms to stretch. I’ve heard it all from my best friend over the past year. And Scott has slowly but surely warmed to Henry’s particular style of burrowing into your skin and living there until you accept him. It’s only a matter of time until Scott breaks.

We cross the street, and I catch James’s eye. His stare intensifies until it flits to Henry, who promptly gives him the finger. I keep my head held high, biting down the smirk tugging at my lips as I pull Henry’s hand down.

The bell rings as we step inside the small grocery store. It’s for essentials; a larger supermarket is a twenty-minute drive out of town. The tourists love to think we small-town folks still buy our groceries from a mom-and-pop store, or in this case, a mom-and-mom store.

“Hey Josie, you got my order?”

The pink-haired, sprightly shopkeeper pops her bubble gum and starts to chew again. “You got it, honey. You gonna be able to carry it all? You can borrow the wagon.”

“Actually, that would be great. Thank you.”

Her wife Astrid walks out from the back room, their baby Aurora strapped to her chest in a baby sling. I smile warmly and Astrid twists so I can see a sleeping baby, face nuzzled against her chest.

“She’s exhausting, but I just love her,” she sighs wistfully.

“If you need a babysitter for the evening, you guys let me know. Henry and I can help.”