Page 6 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

Her palm lifts to cover her mouth, her eyes widening as she tries to stifle a laugh. It’s sweet the way I can see her lips curling through her fingers.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

I give her a pointed look. “Indianapolis—"

“Not my name.”

“We need to talk about current events, not my parents' woeful naming choices.”

The truth is, my mom and dad couldn’t afford to keep me, let alone have more kids. The lack of money led their relationship into the stress-induced poverty cycle of working too much, never being around, and resentment that snowballed into hatred. Dad found solace elsewhere, Mom had a breakdown, and there was Maverick right in the middle and yet invisible to all. Moving in with my reluctant grandma was when my real fun started, anyway. Because there is nothing a seventy-year-old woman can do when an abandoned ten-year-old wants to act up. But Indy doesn’t need to know the tragic backstory of my childhood. Not when I have an objective to get underway.

“If you’re referring to James and Holly’s revived romance, you’re too late. They’ll be married by summertime, I’d put money on it.”

“Not if we work together.”

She pauses for a moment, her eyes narrowing, the only noise once again the crackling fire and the sound of snowflakes pattering against the single-pane window. That is until a black ball of fluff jumps up onto Indy’s lap; its paws immediately begin to knead into her thigh, the soft flesh bouncing back with each lift of its foot. It’s then I notice she’s no longer in the silky dress. She has tartan sleep shorts riding up her thighs and a skintight black camisole wrapping her up like a gift.

“Who’s this?” I lean forward, allowing the cat to sniff my finger until it deems me acceptable and begins to rub my knuckles with its head.

“No name, she just started showing up here a few weeks ago. I think she’s a stray.”

“You haven’t named her?”

Indy shrugs. “She’s not mine.”

I’d always wanted a cat. Dogs are far too needy for my taste. Besides, a cat is resourceful. No food in the house, it’ll find its own source of nourishment. Dogs are far too reliant on humans. And given the way I grew up, everyone has to learn to be self-sufficient. Besides, cats are wary creatures. They don’t give up everything from the start. You have to earn their love.

“You could keep her,” I suggest.

“I considered it, but she hisses at James—” she cuts herself off with a scrunch of her brow. “I suppose that doesn’t matter now, does it? Maybe I will keep you,” she croons.

“You’re not so bad, are you?” I tickle under her chin. “Do you think James is an asshole as well? Such a good kitty, aren’t you?”

Indy watches me, a bemused smile playing on her lips. I clear my throat, taking a step back and sitting on the couch opposite the fire. Her cat lifts to its feet, stretches its back before jumping from the armchair to the couch and curling itself up in my lap.

“This was unexpected,” I say, looking down at the cat who is apparently at home on my three thousand dollar suit.

Fuck it, it’s got James’s blood on it anyway. I’ll have to ask my dry cleaners to boil it.

“As I was saying, I think we could help each other. I want Holly back, and you, for some reason, want to be with plaid-lover James. We could team up. Sabotage their reunion, and all will be right in the world by New Year's.”

Indy leans forward, and I get an eyeful of her cleavage. Ample, soft, pillowy breasts. I don’t know what the hell this James guy is doing letting her go. She’s a knockout.

She pours herself another whiskey before wiggling the bottle at me. I nod, and she pours me a healthy measure that’s sure to keep me warm all night.

“Listen, I’m under no illusion here,” she starts. “James and Holly, they’re ending up together. It’s the way it works around here. She’s the golden girl; her parents basically own the town. Her dad was some hotshot property developer in the city—I’m sure you know that.”

“I’m aware,” I reply casually. Her father is the property developer. One that is famous all through Seattle. He’s made billions. And now he’s settled in the small town of Bear Hills and is happy to have a son-in-law with no drive at all, apparently. That’s the kind of man he wants for his daughter.

“Holly has a habit of dropping things that no longer serve her. If she’s decided you’re done. Then I’m sorry to be the one to break the news, but you’re done,” Indy says neutrally despite her shoulders being so high they’re almost touching her ears. It’s like she’s come to terms with it already. Like she’s so used to disappointment, she doesn’t fight it anymore.

I’ve dated Holly for three years. Lived with her for two. I know that what Indy is saying isn’t totally off-base. Holly goes through stages: excitement, obsession, and then a swift downfall into uninterested. By which point, whatever hobby or business she’s started gets entirely forgotten. She’s never had to do anything, so she picks them up and discards them as and when she pleases. I just didn’t think that mentality applied to me. The sucker paying her bills and investing in our future for the last three years.

“Exactly why we need to make them believe we’re entirely happy with the situation. Pretend it’s something we’ll all talk about ten years from now as the best thing that ever happened. Pretend we’re happy they found each other. Pretend we’re happy we found each other. And then sabotage them every single day they’re together between now and New Year’s. We’ll have some fun causing chaos, and we’ll be with exactly who we’re meant to be with by the end of the year.”

She pauses for a moment, her eyes dipping low to the cat, where I have one hand protectively folded around her back as she lies precariously over my thigh, one finger scratching beneath her chin. Indy swallows, mutters something under her breath, and then looks back at me, her dark eyes flecked with a deep, rich coloring. It’s almost violet in this light. No. Not violet. Indigo. That’s her name. Indy is short for Indigo.

“What exactly would we need to do?”