CHAPTER THREE
JJ—
So, this girl does have some backbone. I’m surprised. Especially knowing how my brother can run a person down until the fight is gone inside them. Somehow, she managed to hang on to at least some spine.
Not many people stand up to my father. Perhaps there’s hope for this girl after all.
That dress makes me want to take a second look, and my eyes trail down her.
I tried to dismiss her earlier, but everything about her draws my attention.
She’s got a rockin’ body, and that sweater dress shows every curve.
She’s not trashy like a lot of women I come into contact with.
Her femininity is subtle, with a classy edge to her.
Her face is pretty, too. All in all, she’s the whole package.
It remains to be seen whether she knows it. I’m thinking her choice of attire says she does. Nothing worse than a woman who knows her power. They’re trouble.
I stand with my hands shoved in my pockets and study her while she watches my parents walk away. Finally, her attention swings to me, and her warm brown eyes meet mine.
I know the effect I have on people. I know what they see when they look at me, and I don’t really care, but this girl surprises me. She meets my gaze head on; the only sign of her uneasiness is revealed by the way she licks her lips.
That’s got my attention on her mouth. Did she plan that? The girl is good. I’ll give her that. But is she smart?
“You like Chinese?” I ask.
“Sure. You know a place?”
“I do. If it’s still there.” I nod up the street, and she falls in step with me. I move to her other side, edging her away from the curb.
“What are you doing?” She gives me a frown.
“Manners. Ma always told me a gentleman walks on the street side of the lady. You’ve never heard that?”
“No.”
“I take it my brother didn’t do it.”
“So, you’re a gentleman, then?” Her gaze sweeps over me, like that’s a joke.
“Don’t let the leather fool you. I can be a decent guy.”
“That remains to be seen.”
We pass a five-and-dime store that’s been here since I was little.
“We once shot bottle rockets into that store. David was mainly the one who did it, but he left me holding the bag, and I’m the one who took all the blame.
You’d think the oldest would get the blame, but not in our fucked-up family.
One was born an angel, and one was born with crooked wings.
At least, that’s what my mom always told me. ”
Rebecca’s eyes narrow, and I have to wonder if this is the first time she’s ever heard a story where her husband wasn’t the glowing angel my parents always made him out to be. I can only imagine the one-sided perception she’s been exposed to all these years.
The restaurant is only half a block away, and I hold the door for her.
A hostess greets us and leads us to a table halfway toward the kitchen in the narrow space.
I sit with facing the street, so I can keep an eye on the door.
I never turn my back to an entrance. It’s an old habit that’s saved my life more than once.
The hostess leaves us with menus, and Rebecca dips her head to study hers. I already know what I want and leave mine on the table, shoving the sleeves of my thermal shirt up my forearms and crossing my arms to lean on the tablecloth.
That draws her attention, and her gaze sweeps over the ink I exposed.
“Do you have any?” I ask.
“Any what?”
“Ink. Tattoos.”
She drops her gaze to the menu and nervously tucks her hair behind her ears. “Of course not.”
I think she’s lying. I bet there’s a butterfly somewhere. Her hip maybe? A souvenir from some spring break in Daytona, perhaps. I grin, and I can tell by the look she darts me, she knows I’m on to her, but I let it slide.
I doubt I’ll be around long enough to find out the answer to that question, anyway.
The waitress comes and takes our order and retrieves the menus.
“So, guess we’re stuck with the place for a year. That sucks,” I say.
“Stuck with the place? How can you say that? Your grandfather loved that tree farm.”
“Yeah, he did. And he should have left it to my mom.”
“If you feel that way, then why don’t you sign your part over to her?”
“Not a chance.”
“You don’t want it. That’s obvious.”
“What the hell would I do with it? I don’t even live in this state.”
She cocks her head. “Alabama, right?”
“Birmingham. That’s where my clubhouse is located.”
“So, what’s the deal with this club you’re in?”
“What’s the deal?”
She shrugs. “I just don’t get the appeal. Is that how you earn a living?”
“That’s really none of your business.”
“Well, we’re business partners. I should know who I’m getting into bed with here.”
“Nice offer, but no thanks,” I tease.
“Don’t be crude. You know what I meant.”
“Look, the land we just inherited has got to be worth a good bit. We hang onto it the for the required year, then sell to a developer. That’s my plan.”
“Well, it’s not mine.”
“You got the funds to buy me out? Because the last thing I want to do is run a damn Christmas tree farm.”
“When’s the last time you were even there? What do you even know about the place?”
“Last time I was there, I was in high school. What about you?
“Two Christmases ago. Before your grandmother passed. We got our tree there, of course. After your grams died, your grandfather didn’t open up again. I think it took the life out of him when he lost her.”
“I’m sure it did.”
“She was a sweet woman.”
“She was.” I cock my head. “Where’d my lame brother find a girl like you?”
There’s a lot in that sentence, and I watch her unpack it. She takes a sip of her water, and I can see in her eyes she’s trying to decide how much to share.
“We met online.”
I scoff. “Figures.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means David was never great at making connections. Most saw through his slick bullshit right off the bat.”
“That’s no way to talk about your brother. Didn’t you two ever get along?”
“When we were young, I actually looked up to him. That was before I got old enough to realize he never gave a damn about me. I was just a scapegoat to him.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? How long were you two together?”
“This year would have been our tenth anniversary. You’d know that if you bothered to come to the wedding.” She jabs her straw into her ice.
“I’m sure my brother was happy I didn’t show up. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”
“Fine. With your sparkling personality, I’m sure he was.”
“You had plenty of time to see the real David. Don’t pretend he was a different man from the one I remember.”
“You’re impossible.”
“How come there aren’t any rugrats by now?” My change in topic throws her for a second, but she recovers quickly.
“We didn’t have kids. Why is none of your business.”
“I suppose David was all the child you needed in your life. I’m sure you had your hands full.”
“My husband is dead. Have some respect.”
“I just don’t get what you saw in him.”
“Drop it.”
“Fine. Let’s talk about the tree farm. What’s your plan if not to sell?”
“To run it.”
“All by yourself?”
“Well, I have a partner, don’t I? If you’re going to partake in the profits, you’d better be prepared to do half the work.”
This girl has no fear of how she talks to me. I kind of like it.
“What do you know about the Christman tree business?” I ask.
“Probably about as much as you,” she throws back.
“So, neither of us knows a damn thing.”
“That can change. We can learn.”
Our food arrives, and we both dig in. I study her as she eats, then point my chopsticks at her. “One thing I can’t figure out… I get the sentiment. My gramps loved that place. But it’s a lot of work. I just don’t get why you want to do this.”
“I need an income.”
“You don’t work?”
“David didn’t want me to work.”
“Of course not. How could you be at his beck and call if you had a life of your own?”
She slams her hand on the table, and the glasses rattle. “Enough. I don’t want to hear another crack like that. Is that clear?”
“Sure. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“That’s exactly what you meant to do.”
I huff a breath. “Fine. I was out of line. I apologize.”
She sighs but doesn’t reply, and I realize I really don’t want to ruin this lunch with her.
“Rebecca?”
“What?” she snaps, but won’t look at me.
“I really am sorry. I’m in a pissy mood, but I shouldn’t take it out on you. You’re stuck in this mess same as me.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t think it’s a mess, and I don’t feel stuck, except regarding you.”
“Touche.”
“Is it the Christmas part you don’t like?” she asks, throwing me for a loop.
“Huh?”
“Are you one of those guys who hate Christmas, or just life in general?”
“I don’t hate Christmas or life in general. I just don’t want to be in this damn town.”
“Christmas Town?” Her voice is soft.
“Yes. Christmas Town. This whole place is a joke. I mean, come on. Holly Jolly Christmas Tree Farm on Candy Cane Lane? Everything in this town is overdone.”
“Well, I love this place. I think it's magical, or it will be once Halloween is over and the real decorations go up. Christmas is the best time of year. Hands down.”
I can’t say I don’t admire her enthusiasm. It’s clear it’s her favorite holiday. “Do you live here?”
“No, we… I mean I live in Centerville with your parents. Well, not with them. David and I had a place at the rear of the property.”
“You mean David never left home? Typical. He always was a mama’s boy.”
“I asked you not to do that.” She starts to rise.
“Sorry. Don’t go. It slips out.”
“Where does all this animosity come from?”
“From years of being treated like shit.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You think I’m exaggerating, huh? Don’t worry. It’s no skin off my nose. Believe what you want. I know the truth of what it was like growing up in that family. But you know what? I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Good. Neither do I.”
“So, what’s your plan? You gonna commute from Centerville to run this place? You have to admit, selling is the best solution. Just think what you can do with the money. You can even move out of there.”
“I’m not selling.” Her brows lift.
“You said you haven’t been up there in two years. So, what do you know about it? For all you know, it could be a complete rundown dump by now.”
“Then maybe we should go look at the place.”
I can see she’s going to be stubborn about this. “I suppose we could take a ride up there. See what’s what.”
“We should head up there before we run out of daylight.”
We finish our food, and I toss a wrapped fortune cookie at her, then dig my wallet out and put a card on the tray with the bill.
She unwraps hers.
“What’s it say? Maybe we can play the lottery numbers on the back.”
She frowns.
“What?” I ask.
“You will find your meaning for living.”
“Weird.” I open mine.
“What’s yours say?” She leans forward.
“Your family will come to mean everything to you.” I smirk. “Ha. Fat chance.”
She shrugs. “Don’t count out Christmas magic.”
I scoff. “There’s not enough Christmas magic to fix that.”
“You can foresee the future, then?”
“No, but I can remember the past.”
“Maybe you should forgive them,” Rebecca whispers.
Doesn’t matter how softly she says it; it still cuts. “And maybe you should get a life.” I stand. “You ready?”
She lets my attitude roll off her, and I remind myself she’s probably used to that kind of thing from my brother. And he’s the last person I want to emulate.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” she bites, and I’m truly sorry for being a dick. She doesn’t deserve any of my anger. She wasn’t a part of any of it.
We walk outside. “My bike’s this way. Where’s your car?”
She points in the same direction, and we walk down the street. After a few minutes, she seems to lose her anger with me and breathes in deeply. “You smell that?”
I inhale and grimace. “What is that?”
“Pumpkin spice lattes. Let’s get one,” she says as we come to a kiosk selling coffees. “My treat.”
“No thanks. That’s a chick drink.”
“Okay, how about an apple cider?”
I know she’s not going to be happy until I get something with her, so I shrug. “Fine. But I’m paying.”
“I already offered. Put your wallet away.”
I do as she asks. I’ve ruffled enough feathers for one day.
She pays and passes mine over, then takes a sip of hers, her face getting all dreamy-eyed. “Mmm. That is so good. How’s yours?
I take a sip and try not to grimace. “Mmm. Great.”