Page 45 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

Mav’s cock is pulsing inside me, and I feel myself readying to go again. This man . . . the way he touches me, the way he talks, pushing my limits in the best possible way. Despite coming down from one of the best orgasms of my life, a sense of calm settles over me. Like I’ve found my place, like I feel seen for the first time in my entire life. Mav sees me. He reads me like he has an instructional manual in front of him, ticking off everything he needs to have me purring.

Holly and James are still arguing; a resigned look falls over James’s face as he rests his head in his hand.

Holly twists to face me, and despite the years that have passed, it still makes me squirm. I don’t know why she stopped talking to me in high school. I don’t know what was so awful that she couldn’t put aside her anger when my mom died, but maybe she didn’t want to explain.

Mav, sensing my unease, puts a warm palm on top of my thigh, settling the twitch of my muscle.

Holly’s manicured nail flicks between the two of us. “How is this going to work then?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

She laughs. “You live two . . . three hours’ drive away from each other. You’re never going to see each other.”

My heart cinches. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. Of course I realize that an actual relationship with Mav is unlikely. My business is here, my home, my memories with Mom. It’s not like I have weekends off working at the B&B. Before starting a relationship with James, I used to go into the city with some girlfriends, but it wasn’t frequent, and the older we got, the more planning it took now that everyone has careers to prioritize. If only I could find a buyer for the B&B, someone I trust to take care of it the way I would. Then I could move to Seattle, like I always planned, like I’ve always dreamed of.

“You don’t need to worry about that, Holly,” Mav murmurs. “Perhaps you should be thinking about how you’re going to survive here in Bear Hills if you can’t perfect your croissants.”

Her nostrils flare, her chin dipping to her chest, much like a bull about to charge at a red flag, except she’s aiming at Mav and not James—a walking testimony to red flags everywhere.

The deep, joyful tone of Mr. Honeyford breaks through the awkward atmosphere. “Holly, there you are. You didn’t say you were going to miss dinner?”

He turns to face me, his eyes widening in surprise until a warm smile stretches across his face. He plonks himself down next to me, and Mav and I tense. Mav’s cock is still inside me.

His. Cock. Is. Inside. Me.

Oh my God.

My spine stiffens, and Mav taps my leg. “Relax, Indy,” he whispers. “You’re clenching me.”

Christ.

Why the hell did I agree to this?

Sitting in the only bar in town, warming someone’s cock after they’ve already made me come, they’ve come, and now they’re seeping out of me. The best I can hope for at this point is a UTI. God, please don’t let Mr. Honeyford realize.

“Indy! I’m so pleased to see you here together.” He reaches out and takes Holly’s hand in one, mine in the other. “You girls were such good friends. I’m so happy to see you spending time together again.”

Holly smiles stiffly, snatching her hand back the second Mr. Honeyford’s grip loosens. He seems unperturbed as he continues. “And it looks like things have all worked out in the romance department as well. Holly and James and Indy and Maverick. You could all double-date.” He laughs, rapping his knuckles against the table.

Mav brushes his lips against my shoulder, and I squirm again as Holly tracks his movements. Is he still playing the long game? Is this all still an act to get Holly back?

If it is, the man is diabolical. His cock is intermittently stiffening inside me with each minuscule movement I make. Surely he wouldn’t do that in front of his future wife if he intended to get back together with her?

“I’ll leave you kids to it,” he says. “Indy, I’m so pleased to see you out and about. You work too hard, you know.”

“Thanks, Mr. Honeyford,” I reply warmly.

“Let me know if you need anything. From one business owner to another.”

I nod, despite knowing I won’t pull him up on it. I glance at Holly and fire sparks behind her cold blue eyes. Her nostrils flare as her eyes narrow in on mine. I can’t work out what the problem is.

Mr. Honeyford leaves the table, and a tight tension settles as we eat the remainder of our meals quietly.

When Holly asks James to let her out of the booth, I take the opportunity to slip off Mav, hovering above him so he can tuck himself back in before I head toward the bathroom to clean up. The facilities haven’t changed since I was sneaking in here at nineteen, begging older boys to buy me drinks until I stumbled home. The avocado-green sinks hide the years of stains. The walls are covered in bathroom selfie polaroids. Some are years old, all taped up with a date and initials of the subjects.

Holly doesn’t lift her head as she washes her hands, simply drying them and running her finger along the side of her lip, then pouting a little.

“Holly . . .”