Page 15 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

“You good, boss?” Scott asks, his eyebrows knitting together.

“You know me. Not gonna let a little ice get me down.”

“And what about a nasty ass cock-gobbler, Indy? You have to do something about her. Is this gonna be our life now?” Henry huffs.

“Henry—” Scott moves from the front desk, puts his hands on the tops of Henry’s arms, and I watch as he stills immediately. “You are a cock-gobbler. It’s not the insult you think it is.”

“I don’t have a nasty ass, though; that’s the difference.” Henry’s chin juts out, and Scott hooks his finger under it, tapping it before stepping back.

“I’m sure you don’t.” His voice is low and gravelly as he drops his gaze down Henry’s torso and back up.

Merry-fricking-Christmas.

My mouth mirrors Henry’s, parted, speechless, unable to think, let alone move.

Scott backs away, his eyes dark, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Once the door to the kitchen swings closed, Henry moves to the back of the desk with me.

“Give me that.” He swipes the whiskey bottle, taking a long gulp before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Did you see that?”

“Uh huh.” I nod.

“Scott . . . he was—”

“Uh huh.”

“I think my Christmas wish came true.” He takes another swig, his eyes darting to the kitchen door.

The front door of the B&B swings open, a flutter of snowflakes surrounding Mav as he stalks through the lobby. His face is neutral until it dips down to my chest, where I’m cradling my wrist. He rounds the front desk, his eyebrows knitted together, pushing himself into my space.

He says nothing as fingers tentatively reach out, but I flinch back. He can't act as if he cares now. Not after what he said last night.

“You’re not meant to be back here. Henry, help Mr. Stone with whatever he needs. I’m going to take a bath.”

Henry nods. “Do you need help?” He looks down at my milk-soaked clothes.

“I’m good. Thanks for today.”

Mav stares, his brows knitted together, the tic in his jaw prominent as he steps aside, letting me go.

Chapter Seven

December 26

Mav

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not telling you a thing. Go and ask Indy, if you’re desperate to know what happened,” Henry, Indy’s best friend and employee, says, his hands on his hips. He’s a fierce friend, and I’m glad Indy has him. Sure seems like she needs one.

“I tell you what, Henry. I’ll cut you a deal.”

“Not interested. Thanks, babe.” He starts to shuffle papers behind the front desk, and I spot the chef from the kitchen staring me down as he slips out of the sliding door and down the long corridor toward the back.

I lean my elbows on the desk, an idea formulating in my head. If I’m right, Henry will be telling me exactly what happened within three minutes.

“I’ll help make the chef jealous.”