I open my mouth, but she keeps going.
“I just wanted you to know I’m not, like, sitting over there at the cocoa booth, plotting to tell on you.” Her brows lift. “I can keep my mouth shut.”
I should tell her right here. Should tell her Mercedes works for me, that it was a work conversation, that I’m not sneaking around with anyone. That the only line I’ve crossed lately was with her.
But she adds, casual as anything, “Does Maddie know you’re a cheater?”
And just like that, whatever hint of a smile I had is gone. My jaw tightens. “You know,” I say slowly, “I was actually going to apologize when you came over here but fuck that.”
She blinks, taken aback for half a second. Then she recovers. “Don’t bother.”
“Hailey.” I take a step closer to her, but she steps away, clearly uninterested in whatever I have to say. Her eyes flick over my face like she’s weighing whether she should say whatever is on the tip of her tongue.
Her mouth parts a little, but before I can press it, before I can explain the whole damn thing so it’s not festering in her head?—
“Hailey!” the other woman calls from the cocoa booth, waving an arm. “Hey! We need you. The line’s long!”
Hailey glances over her shoulder. The line has doubled, people shifting from foot to foot in the cold. She curses under her breath, then looks back at me.
“We’re not done with this,” I tell her quietly.
She shakes her head. “We actually are.”
Then she turns and hurries back through the snow, those puffy earmuffs engulfing her face, red scarf swinging, leaving me standing there with cooling cocoa in my hand and a fresh, burning need to set the record straight.
I stare down at the half-empty cup in my hand. Every muscle in my body’s wired too tight. I toss the cup in the trash, literally laughing out loud at myself.
“I’m so fucking fucked,” I mutter under my breath.
Jake shoots me a questioning look from the other end of the lot, but I wave him off before he can ask. Because yeah, there’s no explaining this one. Not without sounding like an idiot.
I grab a tree from the stack, hoisting it onto my shoulder just to have something to do. The pine needles scrape my neck. The trunk’s heavier than I anticipated. All I can think about is the look she gave me before she walked off.
Like I was exactly what she thought I was, some lying asshole who toys with women for fun. It shouldn’t fucking matter what she thinks about me. My life is none of her business and vice versa. Except every time I tell myself that, it lands with less conviction.
Because she got to me. She’s under my skin and in my head and I’m not sure I want her gone.
The guys start wrapping up near ten, the flow of customers slowing as the temperature drops. I check the cash box and log a few notes for tomorrow, anything to keep my hands busy. But I keep glancing toward the cocoa booth, waiting for her to look up, to maybe give me something, but I don’t see her.
“You got it?” I ask Travis before stepping away.
“Yup, heading out after I put this last lock on the trees.”
I try to hurry toward the cocoa tent without making it obvious, but when I reach it, it’s already closed up.
“Left early,” The woman who was with Hailey tells me when I pass by. “Didn’t feel great, I think. Said she’d see us tomorrow.”
I nod, force out a thanks, and head back toward my truck. Every step crunches loud against the snow, too loud in the quiet that’s settled over the market. My nose is cold, my hands jammed deep in my jacket pockets.
I should just let it go. But the image of that look on her face when she accused me of cheating plays on Repeat.
She doesn’t know me. Doesn’t know a damn thing about me…But damn if I don’t want her to.
I climb into my truck, slam the door, and sit there with the engine off. My hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles going white. The truck’s cab is cold. I turn the key, the engine rumbling to life, but I don’t move. My heart’s in my throat, pounding like it’s begging me not to do something stupid.
“Don’t do it, man,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Do not fucking do it.”
But even as I say it, I’m already picturing the drive. The turn onto her street. The soft yellow glow in her apartment window.
