Page 14 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

“And that new man too? He’s dreamy,” Josie adds, slipping out the back to grab the wagon full of milk cartons.

Astrid rolls her eyes.

“Ladies, I’m trying to convince her to sleep with him before he leaves, but she’s not having it. Apparently he’s here to win Holly back or something. I personally give it about three days, and then they’ll be boning.”

“Henry, not in front of the baby,” I admonish.

He rolls his eyes, and Josie pulls the red wagon through.

“Thank you, I’ll bring it back later after the snowball fight. Will you both be coming? You need to defend your reigning title.”

Josie smiles at her wife, one arm wrapped around her, the other cradling Aurora’s head. “Not this year. We’ll be staying warm and cozy with this one.”

“We’ll do our best in your place.” Henry salutes, his legs snapping together.

“Yes, yes, now go on. You’re not going to get any closer to boning that gorgeous man stuck in here with us.”

I roll my eyes, saving them from the embarrassment that was last night’s firm and slightly cruel comment from Mav, and head out the door.

The cold air snaps at my cheeks as Henry and I both put one hand each on the wagon’s handle, dragging it across the sidewalk toward the crossing.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing with Mav?” I hear Holly before I see her. I turn to see James talking to the owner’s niece, Bella Montgomery, her curly hair frizzing at the edges, wearing her brightly colored dungarees like a uniform.

“He needed somewhere to stay, and the B&B was full. I wasn’t going to leave him out in the snow, Holly,” I reply, not adding that she had done exactly that on Christmas Eve of all days.

“He could have gone home.”

“And you could have called him to let him know before he made the journey and saw you sucking face with James.”

She laughs, crossing her arms over her body, her manicured fingers tapping repeatedly against her forearm. I square my shoulders, bracing for the next blow.

“So that’s the issue. You still have a crush on James? It’s been a decade, Indy. I would have thought you’d moved on by now.”

My teeth grit and I have to hold Henry back. The hand on his shoulder seems to remind him that I’m not looking for a scene. Certainly not in the middle of Main Street. Holly may have only just returned to town, but her family name means something here. The Honeyfords have the biggest house; her father, Hugh, has almost celebrity status among the locals.

“Perhaps you need to speak to James. And tell him to stop coming by my place. Although I’m sure Mav made it pretty clear yesterday.”

“I already asked James about that, and he said you were lying.”

“Okay.” I shrug, starting to pull the wagon toward the crossing. I’m not going to argue with her. I’m not trying to convince her of anything. I know the truth, and so does James. If they want to start their relationship this way, then that’s on them.

“Hey, I’m not finished with you.” Holly grabs the sleeve of my jacket, pulling me off balance. My foot slips on the ice until my leg kicks back, the wagon upturning. The milk cartons tumble out of the wagon, and before I can stop myself, my hands crack against the concrete. My knees are next, milk spraying everywhere. I can’t move quickly enough. My wrist is thrumming, a shoot of pain spiking up my forearm. I try to put weight on it to lift myself up, but the pain is unbearable.

“Shit,” I mutter, squeezing my eyes tight.

“Oh, you didn’t just do that, Holly!” Henry yells. He slips his arm under mine, helping me to my feet. We scramble to save what we can of the milk cartons, but half of them are spilling out onto the street. It’s freezing so fast, it’s making ice cream.

Josie exits the shop, rushing out to help us fix the wagon. James follows, obviously sensing the commotion. He stands beside Holly, wrapping his arm around her so she nuzzles in.

“You should be more careful, Indy. Mistakes like that will affect your profit line.” She sneers before flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder and dragging James away.

Right, because she has so much experience running a successful business.

Josie helps us on our way, and Henry pulls the wagon back for me, seething as he mutters all the way that he’s going to get revenge as we trudge back to the B&B.

◆◆◆

Scott, my head chef and sometimes first aider, wraps an ice pack around my wrist as I’m perched on the front desk. Henry is still scathing, pouring out two whiskeys, one for me and one for himself for emotional support, apparently.