I straighten from where I’m adjusting a tree stand and wipe my gloves on my jacket.
“Hi,” she says, stopping in front of me like we didn’t make out in an elevator and then pretend it never happened. Her breath fogs between us. “Truce offering.” She holds out the cup.
The top has a generous dollop of whipped cream that’s dusted with cocoa powder and a peppermint stick is tucked into the sleeve. It’s stupidly festive. It’s also the last thing I deserve.
“Thanks.” My voice comes out low. “You didn’t have to?—”
“Well.” She lifts her brows, mouth quirking. “You looked very serious over here. Figured I should bring Christmas cheer to the grumpy contractor Santa.”
My eyes narrow. “Grumpy… contractor Santa?”
She points to my head. “You’re wearing the hat.”
“Oh, right.” I reach up and tug the itchy thing from my head. I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “You’re really gonna come over here and roast me on my own lot?”
“Someone has to keep you humble.” She shrugs with a little grin. “Besides, I needed a break from pouring cocoa for sugared-up kids. Thought I’d come mock you instead.”
God, she’s cute.
“Your company always do this?” she asks, looking around at the trees, the guys, the lights. “Run the tree corner?”
“Yeah.” I nod toward the banner behind us. “We’ve been doing the trees the last few years. It’s always a highlight for the guys.”
She smiles, acting completely fine, like we’re back to normal. “I just found out my company volunteers too. They threw me at cocoa duty tonight.”
“I see that.” I tip the cup toward her. “You’re good at it.”
Her shoulders lift in a little pleased shrug. “I like Christmas. And sugar. And being out and about.”
“Guess it works out, then.” Silence slips in for a second, more awkward than my responses if possible. I tap my cup, unable to avoid it any longer. I’m about to say something about the coffee shop, about my project manager Mercedes, whom she saw me with, about how I should’ve handled it, when she says, “Look?—”
We both pause when she notices my open mouth. “You first,” I tell her, nodding for her to go. Because I owe her that, at least.
She shifts her weight, blowing out a breath of air. “I was just gonna say… it doesn’t have to be weird now.”
I watch her face, the way she’s deliberately casual. She’s trying to make this easy on me, and somehow that makes me feel worse.
“I don’t need, like, a whole breakdown of your life,” she continues. “Nor do I need to know anything about it, because it isn’t my business. So it doesn’t have to be awkward between us. And I won’t say anything.”
Guilt punches me right in the sternum. I look down at the cocoa. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her keeping my secrets.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “Maybe I’m just looking for a loophole here, but it doesn’t feel like lying if we just don’t say anything. There’s no reason for Maddie to know anyway. It’s… not her business.”
She lets out a short, sarcastic huff, lips curling. “I wasn’t talking about Maddie.”
I look up. “What?”
“I meant the other woman,” she says, eyes on mine now, clear and sharp under the market lights. “The one from the coffee shop. Pretty sure it wouldn’t go over well if she found out you were kissing me, now would it?”
Ah. So that’s what she thinks and this play it cool and casual bit was a way to get me to think we were cool. I can’t help it as my mouth pulls into a slow smile. Not because I like that she’s jealous. Because she’s wrong and thinks she’s right. Because there’s something smug in her tone that hits me dead center.
“You think you caught me, huh?” I say, voice low, a little amused.
Her chin tips. “I think I’m not stupid.”
“You’re not,” I agree immediately. “Far from it.”
“Then don’t play dumb,” she fires back. “I get it. You have… something… going on with someone. Totally fine. Not my business. I’m not gonna blow up your spot.”
