Chapter 17 A Festive Truce #2
“No one is taking sides. If you had seen the number of zeros on the contract he gave me, you wouldn’t have turned it down either.
I’m only providing the cookies.” She holds up her hands.
“I drew the line at running the booth. Everyone loves my cookies. Not only is it great exposure for the coffee shop but the extra money will help me buy a new espresso machine.” When I don’t release my glare, she continues to soothe my concerns.
“Don’t worry, I’m still providing cookies for your festival like I do every year. ”
As much as I want to be mad at her, I can’t because, like Willa, I’m sure she’s going to have her best year yet because of Logan.
I’m thrilled that this is all working out for her.
For me, on the other hand, everything is crumbling to the ground.
“It’s business now, until he steals you all away. Like my snowman.”
“The only wedge is the one you’re creating with this ridiculous feud. In fact, this Christmas war needs to stop. You’re tearing the town apart, forcing us to choose sides.”
“No, we’re not. Stop being dramatic.”
“Okay, fine.” She throws her hands up in the air. “I’m just sick of the gossip. You’re the will-they-won’t-they couple of the century with all the sexual tension that radiates from you. Maybe you need to bang it out.”
I shake my head. “No one said that.” Even though after the almost-kiss, it’s crossed my mind a time or two. Hate sex is a thing, right? If not, we could make it a thing. Shove a paper bag over his head and go to pound town. Goosebumps prickle my skin at the thought.
“I’m saying it now. Plus, I need new gossip. I’m over this.”
The bell jingles on Logan’s return. Rays of sunshine illuminate behind him like a halo. He slides his hand through his hair, straightening the strands at the top of his head. Why can’t I tear my gaze away?
When he reaches the counter, he hands a check to Sloane. “I got it.”
“Thanks.” Sloane smiles at him. “One more request.”
“Sure, anything,” Logan replies.
“This war you two have,” she points between Logan and me, “needs to end for the sanity of everyone in Mount Holly. You two need to apologize to each other and arrange an exchange of stolen goods.” Neither of us says anything.
In fact, we avoid eye contact. “Okay. If you two don’t apologize, I’ll rip up this check and you don’t get any cookies. ” She glares at Logan.
I lift my chin. Yes! I beam. My best friend going all benevolent tyrant on his ass. Go Sloane.
Her gaze swings to me. “Oh, you’re apologizing as well. Otherwise, same deal.”
I deflate. No more benevolent.
“Logan,” Sloane says, “you need to apologize for stealing her snowman.”
“Fine.” Logan sighs before shifting his gaze to me. “Brie, I’m sorry for stealing your snowman.”
“Apology accepted,” I say primly.
The three of us stand in silence until Logan clears his throat. Sloane glares at me and nods toward Logan.
“I really shouldn’t have to apologize. I did it in retaliation. He started it.” Sloane crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me like she’s scolding a five-year-old. “Fine. I’m-sorry-for-decapitating-your-reindeer-and-stealing-its-head,” I mumble.
“No. A genuine apology. Now you have to look him in the eye.” When I say nothing, she adds, “Go on.”
My jaw clenches and I lift my chin to meet Logan’s eyes. “I’m sorry for decapitating your reindeer and stealing its head.”
“Great!” Sloane claps her hands together. “Now that’s settled. We’ll arrange a drop-off and pickup of the stolen goods here at 8 p.m.”
“Uh. I can’t do tonight,” Logan says. “I have a movie night with Josie.”
“Okay. Tomorrow night,” Sloane replies.
“I’ve got the parade committee till… who knows,” I say.
Sloane huffs. “Fine. The next night. Anyone have plans?”
Logan and I shake our heads.
“Nah. I think I’m good,” Logan says.
“Me too,” I add.
“Then it’s settled. Thursday at eight o’clock.” With the flip of a switch, a wide grin takes over Sloane’s face. “I’m glad we got that settled. Now, to seal the deal, buy each other a drink. Mostly because I want the money.”
“We can finally call a truce.” Logan extends his hand toward me.
I eye his palm and my nose wrinkles as if a steaming pile of reindeer poo is sitting in the middle.
I’m deep in the trenches of this holiday war for the long haul.
A handshake will not make me surrender. “Never.” Meeting his gaze, my lips pull into a wide grin.
“But I will enjoy the extra-large, double shot, vanilla latte you’re buying me.
” At least Sloane’s making the drink, so I know Logan can’t poison it.
For the rest of the morning, I sip my coffee, which tastes like victory and vengeance.
I’m sure he’s thrilled about getting an apology from me.
It’s just one more thing to inflate his oversized ego.
Even though I begrudgingly agreed to buy him a coffee, he still refused.
Instead, he had me buy the coffee for the person standing in line behind us, which—annoyingly—I admire.
“Brie, can I see you in my office?” “Mrs. Kingsley’s voice booms from down the hall.
“I’ll be right there!” I rise from my chair and smooth my blouse. At this rate, I’m terrified of what requests Mrs. Kingsley will have for me next. Go to the North Pole, find the actual Santa, and bring him back to Mount Holly?
I poke my head through the doorway. “Yes, Mrs. Kingsley?”
She peers up from her computer monitor. “The word through town is there is a famous Christmas blogger in town.”
“I heard that,” I say, very cool, as if I didn’t fangirl over her already.
“I want you to arrange a meeting with her. See if we can get the Holly Jolly Festival on her blog. And potentially her magazine. I think it’ll do wonders for exposure for the festival.”
I nod. “I completely agree.” Again, I tried, but my efforts were fruitless.
“I trust you can do this.”
Shit. “Yes, absolutely. I will get it done as soon as possible.”
She nods, fingers flying across the keyboard. “Time is running out—for the festival and the position.”
She doesn’t need to remind me. “I’ll get right on it.” I step into the hallway and inhale. Oh, great. All I need to do is woo a celebrity, out festival a hockey legend, and reclaim a kidnapped snowman. Going to the North Pole to find Santa might be easier than this. Merry freaking Christmas.