Chapter 18 Shit. Damn. Fuck
Eighteen
Shit. Damn. Fuck
Logan
The last few days have been eerily quiet.
No run-ins with Brie at the coffee shop.
No accidental encounters at the diner. Not even a showdown at the bar.
No more stealing Christmas decorations or booking all the Christmas props for herself.
And the worst part? I kind of miss it. Most sane people would celebrate not seeing the one person they argue with more than they breathe, but apparently, I’m not most people.
The bickering, the banter, the sparks—it’s like some twisted addiction.
And I need my fix. My pulse kicks into overdrive just thinking about catching a glimpse of her tonight.
Even if it’s only a quick exchange of holiday contraband.
The warmth that shoots through my chest says it’s not the arguing I miss most. It’s her.
She’s been the most unexpected thing to happen to me in the last few years, along with the fluttering in my stomach.
Of course, then there’s Simon. It can’t be serious.
Right? One date doesn’t qualify as serious.
I tug open the coffee shop door, bracing myself. It’s only Sloane inside, the giant reindeer head perched on the counter.
“Sorry, I’m late.” I come to a halt in front of her. “Where’s Brie?”
“She couldn’t make it.” Sloane nudges the reindeer head toward me. “She left this for you.”
“Oh.” My chest tightens, and my chin drops. “That’s probably better, anyway. Otherwise, we’ll spend the next twenty minutes arguing over the nonexistent scuff on her snowman.”
Sloane’s gaze softens. “Yeah. Probably for the best. Plus, I need to finish closing duties.”
“Okay. So here you go.” I set the snowman on the floor, exchanging it for the reindeer head. “Oh. Also I have this.” I pull out the Mostly Nice. Sometimes Naughty. keychain and set it on the counter. “This belongs to her. Alright, I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Logan. I’ll let Brie know I have her things.”
I press my lips into a tight smile and nod. Before I reach the door, I spin around. “Can I ask you something?”
“Um. Sure.”
“Is it serious between Brie and Simon?”
Her brows shoot up. “Serious?”
“They’re dating, right?”
Sloane’s laugh cuts through the silence. “You’re funny. Brie and Simon are not dating. Trust me, I’d know.”
Well shit. Fucking Simon. “Um. Thanks.” A wide smile covers Sloane’s face.
Before I completely expose myself, I bolt.
Back in my truck, I chuck the reindeer head in the cab.
If they’re not dating, then why the hell did Brie say they were?
Just to mess with me? And why didn’t she show tonight?
I grip the steering wheel, torn between pounding on her door and demanding answers—or pretending none of this matters. Spoiler alert: It matters way too much.
I drum my fingers on the coffee shop table, checking my watch for the fifth time in two minutes.
Emma, a Christmas blogger, has been hounding me for an interview.
I’ve been putting it off mostly because I’ve been busy, but partly because interviews make me itchy.
When I played hockey, reporters only wanted to know how I handled the pressure of a power play or if the other team really brought the heat.
Easy stuff. Now? They want the messy, personal details I’d rather keep locked up tight.
But this could be good exposure for the carnival, and that’s what’s really important here.
The bell over the door jingles. Emma sweeps inside like she’s on a runway. Her lips curve into a wide grin as she sashays toward me, unbuttoning her coat as if she wants to give me a private lap dance.
“Thank you so much for meeting with me,” she purrs.
“Of course,” I say, rising from my chair. “Though let’s be real—you weren’t leaving Mount Holly without this interview.”
She giggles. “That is true.” She shrugs out of her coat, and I help her take it the rest of the way off.
“You’re such a gentleman,” she says, giving me a sultry once-over as I drape her coat over the chair.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “How’d you even hear about the carnival?”
“Actually, your carnival was nominated for the Best Hometown Christmas contest, and it’s in the finals as one of the top three events.”
My first thought is somehow Brooke entered the contest from beyond the grave since it’s what she always wanted, but I quickly shake that thought away.
I glance around the coffee shop on the lookout for any guilty faces who could have outed me.
It could be anyone here. Hell, anyone in this town.
Maybe my mom? She subscribes to the magazine.
My brows pinch together. “Who submitted it?”
“It was anonymous. But when I heard hockey legend Logan Crawford was running a small-town Christmas carnival, I had to see for myself.”
I nod. “So you came here because of who I am?”
“Not every day do I get the opportunity to meet a hockey star.” Emma reaches across the table and rests her hand on mine. “Let me say, I’m sorry to hear about the passing of your wife.”
My eyes drop to the stark contrast of her red snowman nails against my skin. It twists something in my gut like eggnog left out overnight. “Thanks,” I mutter before pulling my arm away.
A frown twitches on her lips before she recovers. “So tell me, how does a hockey star trade slapshots for sleigh bells? And why Mount Holly?”
My foot taps under the table. I can talk penalty kills all day long. But this? This is Brooke’s story. “I grew up here. The town has always been about tradition. And now, with my daughter… I wanted her to feel the same Christmas magic I did.”
“And the carnival?”
I huff out a laugh and lean against the chair.
“That wasn’t my idea. It was something my wife had always aspired to do.
She loved Christmas. All aspects of it. She wanted to create something fun and magical for families to enjoy during the holidays.
She planned every detail—layout, buildings, even the decor in the hot cocoa stand.
My voice goes tight, and I drop my gaze to the table.
“The year she passed was supposed to be the carnival’s inaugural year.
Obviously, it didn’t pan out. But I wanted her dream to live on. ”
Emma’s smile softens, her pen pausing. “That’s really beautiful. How has the carnival planning been so far?”
“Challenging?” I chuckle. “But I’ve always been up for a challenge. It’s the competitor in me. But now that things are coming to fruition, it’s exciting to see the finished product.”
She jots notes in her notepad. “What has been the biggest challenge so far?”
I want to say Brie, not because of the competition but, because I can’t get her out of my head. “The execution. Making sure it’s perfect. The way Brooke wanted it.”
“And the town has been supportive of the carnival?”
I grin. “Oh, yeah. Everyone’s excited. Well… most people.”
Her brows lift. “Why most people?”
“There’s a tradition in Mount Holly called the Holly Jolly Festival. Another similar Christmas festival.” I rest my elbows on the table.
She nods along. “So, dueling festivals.”
“Something like that. The organizer is Brie McKenna. We grew up together.”
“You two are friends?”
I bark out a laugh. “Friends might be a stretch. More like lifelong enemies.” This time she laughs. “We didn’t necessarily get along growing up. A lot of competition.”
She perks up, scribbling furiously. “So it’s personal?”
My chest tightens. “The purpose isn’t competition. But it’s there. Mount Holly loves Christmas, and there’ll be support for both events from the entire town. For me, the most important part is honoring Brooke’s dream.”
“Of course,” she says, but the gleam in her eyes says she’s already writing the headline: Hockey Legend vs. Hometown Heroine: Dueling Festivals in Mount Holly. “Tell me more about Brie?”
I fight the urge to smile hearing her name. “She’s so strong-willed, fierce, and determined. She works her ass off. Shit, can I say ass?”
“I’ll edit it out.” She chuckles.
“She has such an icy exterior, but once you break through, she’s an incredible woman.” Shit. Word vomit. I snap my mouth shut, but Emma’s smirk says it’s too late. “I need to get back to the carnival. I have some more work to do.”
“Oh yes. Thank you so much for sitting down with me.”
“No problem.” I rise, and she does the same. “I hope the article brings a lot of exposure to the carnival in Mount Holly.”
“I’m certain it will.”
I shrug into my jacket, keeping my eyes fixed on the door. By the time I’m back in my truck, I’m kicking myself. I came to Mount Holly for Josie. For Brooke’s dream. Nothing more. And definitely not to let one stubborn, infuriating, beautiful woman hijack my every thought.
The drive to my parents’ house goes by in a blur of regret. I don’t know what she’s going to publish, but I went rogue. I should never have even mentioned Brie. Once I opened my mouth, it was nothing but diarrhea of words, and I couldn’t stop. I should have never agreed to the interview.
At my parents’ house, I shove through the front door, stomping snow off my boots.
“Josie, are you ready? Josie?” Muffled chatter echoes through the house, followed by the clatter of pots and pans.
“Hello? Anyone home?” Just as I pass through the foyer and toward the kitchen, my mom turns the corner. “Hey Mom, where’s Josie?”
With a wooden spoon in hand, she says, “She’s next door with Brie and her mom baking cookies.” She casually walks to the stove and stirs a simmering pot.
My jaw clenches. “Excuse me? You sent my daughter away with a stranger?”
Mom arches a brow. “Brie is far from a stranger. You’ve known her since elementary.”
“But Josie hasn’t.”
“She’s fine. They spent the afternoon building snowmen in the backyard. I was with her when we first went over there, but I had to come home to make dinner. She was having so much fun baking cookies and begged me to let her stay.”