Page 36 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

Holly laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she takes two glasses of champagne from a staff member carrying a silver platter. She hands me one, and my brow knits together.

I glance at Hugh, who waits expectantly.

The question I came here to ask him, for his daughter’s hand in marriage, is lodged in my throat, choking me. I have never wanted to back out of a deal. I’ve always done what’s best for my end goal. But Holly’s expectant gaze, her perfectly manicured fingers patiently awaiting the ring that I didn’t bring with me, because why would I? What the hell had we discussed last night that could have led to this? Charlie only mentioned the bakery. Please tell me I didn’t mention the ring.

“Okay, I can’t wait any longer,” Holly blurts out. “Mav bought me the bakery.”

My heart stops in my chest, my eyes widening comically as the flood of relief is instant. She doesn’t know I was planning to propose. She didn’t know I was planning to rent the bakery out to someone else either, but Holly could spin anything to suit her needs.

Her eyes are as wide as her smile, clinking our champagne flutes together.

Hugh’s eyes widen too, and he expels what I assume is a sigh of relief. The proposal question saved for another day.

“I will need to borrow Maria to help set me up, but it’s happening! I can finally fulfill my lifelong dream of owning my own bakery and business,” she squeals.

“I didn’t realize that was a dream of yours, darling,” he says.

“Neither did I,” I mutter under my breath, taking a swig of my drink.

Her dad lifts his left foot over his right knee, leaning back against the couch James fell into that first night I punched him.

“Are you letting this man buy your affection, Holly?”

If only he knew I’d actually bought it to mess with her and James and ended up bringing her ex-best friend to orgasm in the office whilst we watched them arguing on camera. Not exactly the wholesome declaration of love he’s expecting for his daughter.

But this is it. A standing in the life of Hugh Honeyford. A partnership, whether he likes it or not. All I have to do is convince him I’m not trying to buy her. I swallow down the urge to throw up and find the words I’d practiced over the last five days.

“With all due respect, Mr. Honeyford, from the moment I arrived here, I’ve faced many obstacles, one being Holly’s clear affection for her previous boyfriend, James.” I take a deep breath. “But Holly and I have a relationship that surpasses childish love. We’re partners . . .” I take her hand in mine. “And Holly may have lost sight of that for a few weeks, but I didn’t. Building the life we both want together is at the top of my priority list. Holly is at the top of my priority list. Buying the building was a reminder of that.”

The words feel staged, rehearsed, yet it seems to appease him as his shoulders relax a little, his ramrod straight back curving a little into the couch. Holly squeezes my hand and nods.

“Daddy, you know what I’m like. I jump from one thing to another, but Mav is consistent. He knows me. And the fact that he stuck around and spent time with Indy just reminds me of what he’s willing to do to be close to me.”

The second she mentions Indy, I let go of her hand, rubbing my palm over my mouth, the bristles of my beard scraping, grounding me.

“Indy is a good girl,” Mr. Honeyford says. “She took care of her mother when she was sick, which is more than most people would do.”

Holly rolls her eyes before slapping on a contest-winning smile with only a slight dip in her cheek that tells me I’m missing a key part of the Holly-Indy story.

“You should reconnect with her now you’re moving back to town,” Mr. Honeyford says.

“I’m good, Daddy. We’re not friends anymore.”

“Well, maybe you can make up and be friends again. She was your closest friend—”

Holly huffs before draining her drink.

“Can we get through one conversation without Indy Winters dominating it?” she snips.

“Holly—”

“No, Daddy. Just stop. I don’t want to talk about her. Mav, come on, I’ll give you a tour of the house.”

“Sir.” I nod, extending my hand.

He glances to where Holly has slipped out onto the snow-covered patio and lowers his voice. “How is Indy doing? Is she okay?”

“Err, yes, sir. Business is doing well. She’s busy, but she seems to be enjoying it.” I keep up the niceties polite society dictates. Indy isn’t doing well. She’s been screwed over by this man’s family and a certain Christmas tree farmer. She deserves more than this town. She deserves to build something of her own, to have the excitement of city life.