Chapter 23 Truth Bombs
Twenty-Three
Truth Bombs
Brie
His eyes widen. “No! Why would you even think that?”
“Because of this.” I shove my phone into his hand. He squints at the screen, brows knitting.
“Why the hell would she publish that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you told her?
” My pulse thrums in my ears. “Why else would she write it? For once, it would be nice to get something I’ve poured my heart and soul into without facing a mountain of difficulties.
But no—you show up, and suddenly everything is harder for me and ten times easier for you. ”
Logan leans against the table, arms folded, maddeningly calm. “Are you… jealous?”
I rear my head back. “Jealous?” The word echoes in my head.
It’s a legitimate word that perfectly explains my life.
“You know what? Yes. Yes, I was, or am, jealous because I worked so damn hard all the damn time and all you had to do was show up, and everything was handed to you. In elementary school, you got to be the Christmas star in the school play without even trying out. You got all the easy words during the spelling bee, like kale. While I got asparagus.” I spin away from Logan and pace from one side of the room to the other while he leans against the table, arms crossed over his chest. God, why am I shaking?
It’s not like I haven’t fantasized about telling him off since fifth grade.
All of it building up like a dam about to burst. Here it goes.
“In high school, you were valedictorian even though I saw you goofing off with your friends all the time while I was in the library studying my ass off. Any girl who blinked at you wanted to be your girlfriend. Everyone bought you Valentine’s Day suckers from the high school fundraiser.
You had a whole plethora of suckers. You know how I know?
Because I had to pass them out. Lastly, you host one carnival, and suddenly a world-renowned Christmas blogger comes to town wanting to interview you. ”
As I pass by Logan, he grabs my wrist and pulls me to his chest.
If he smirks right now, I might actually throw my phone at his perfect, smug face.
“You realize none of that matters now.”
“It does to me,” my voice cracks, “because this festival is my one shot, and it’s being ruined by you. Again. I hate how much you get under my skin.”
His fingertips skim my arm—barely there, but enough to send a rush of goosebumps chasing after them.
“Or maybe,” he murmurs, voice low and threaded with something that steals the air from my lungs, “I get under your skin because I’m the only one who actually knows you.
The real you. Not the easy stuff anyone can guess—your favorite food, your coffee order.
What I know is that you’re smart. Stubborn.
Fierce. A fighter. You don’t back down, even when the odds are stacked against you. ”
His gaze pins me, warm and unrelenting.
“Those are the things I know about you,” he finishes softly. “Everything else? I can learn. But those… those are the things that matter.”
I freeze. His eyes—soft, unguarded—pull at something in me I don’t want to admit exists. Shit. What if he’s right? Maybe all the bickering and one-upping is just… knowing each other too well.
“You know what, Brie?” His thumb strokes my cheek. “Can I kiss you?”
I blink. “What? Why?”
“Yes or no. That’s all I need.”
“That makes zero sense. I just confessed a lifetime of hating you, and now—”
“I’m giving you five seconds. If you don’t say no, I’m kissing you.”
“Logan, you can’t—”
“Five. Four. Three.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Two.”
My eyes narrow to slits. “You wouldn’t dare—”
“One.”
Before I can finish, his hands cradle my face and his mouth crashes to mine.
The kiss is molten—slow, deep, devastating in the best way.
So this is what it’s like when your enemy detonates your brain with his mouth.
It melts years of irritation into something hotter, something that makes my knees weak and my head spin.
The man who’s mastered pushing my buttons is now nailing every single one that turns me on.
He pulls back, but he doesn’t let go of my face. Instead, he brushes his thumb over my cheek, tender and careful. “We’ve fought about a lot of stupid things. But none of that’s real. This? This is.”
He lifts my phone, scrolling. “She twisted my words for clicks. What I actually said?” He holds the screen up. “That you’re smart. Beautiful. Generous. That’s why I’m here tonight—because I can’t stop thinking about you. And if it’s you against the world, I want to be right there at your side.”
His eyes wander over me like I’m the answer to a question he’s been asking his whole life. I don’t even know the question, but I desperately want to be the answer.
His finger slides over my temple as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “For the past few weeks, you’ve been the best distraction. I’ve been able to get out of my own head for once.”
“Life has certainly been more…” I purse my lips together, searching for the right words, “entertaining since you’ve come back to town.”
He cups my cheek, and I lean into his warmth. “We have a connection. I feel it. I know you feel it. I don’t want to fight it anymore.”
Twisting my head, I press a kiss to his palm.
He’s right. Whatever hate I’ve harbored toward him has shifted to something that’s the complete opposite.
“I believe you.” We’ve been through a lot, not only regarding the festivals, but our whole lives.
I lift my chin, my lashes fluttering open with my gaze lingering on his.
“If you keep looking at me like that, we’ll be staying in Santa’s Workshop until the sun comes up.
” He presses his lips to my forehead in a chaste kiss.
“I’m glad you believe me. If you didn’t,” he rests a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes, “I’d have to give you another orgasm to show you how much you should believe me. ”
“Fine.” I hop onto the table, spreading my legs with a wicked grin. “I don’t believe you.”
His laugh rumbles against me as he steps between my thighs, cupping my face. “God, I want nothing more than to feast on you all night. But I have to pick up Josie. I’m already late.”
My eyes scan his, searching for any signs of insincerity.
Earlier, he asked me if I trust him, and I do.
Since whatever is happening between us is so fresh and new, I haven’t even had the chance to fully wrap my head around it.
Again, I spent so many years believing one thing about this man, and I was completely wrong.
“Are you going to tell them about this?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Actually, what if we just keep this between us for right now?”
“Oh, so you just want to go back to hating me again?”
“It’s kind of fun. And we haven’t gotten to the hate sex yet.”
“You best believe I will hate sex the fuck out of you. Just tell me the time and place.”
A giggle bursts out of me. I’m half tempted to say right now, but I need to deal with one emotion first before I bring on a slew of others. “For now, you should get going so you’re not any later. Then you’d really have some explaining to do.”
“Fuck. You’re perfect.” He grips my chin and presses his lips to mine.
He pulls away, but I don’t want him to. Instead, my lips chase his like an overeager puppy. When my lashes flutter open, he’s staring at me with a look that shouldn’t belong to my supposed rival—adoration. “I’m really not.”
“To me, you are,” he says like he’s stating a fact.
My brain short-circuits. So naturally, I go for humor. “Get out of here before I tie you up with Christmas ribbon and keep you as my sex hostage.”
His grin tilts, cocky. “If that’s a threat, it’s a pretty bad one.”
I laugh, pushing at his shoulders. “Go.”
“Okay, okay.” He chuckles as I spin him toward the door and shove. “I’m leaving.”
The second he disappears into his truck, I sag against the door, grinning like an idiot. Logan and me putting aside our differences for a common goal. Never say never. Granted, I didn’t expect that goal to be orgasms, but honestly? Best. Goal. Ever.
I push off the door. I need to finish wrapping presents so I can get home and go to bed. Tomorrow is the snowman-making contest, and it will be the biggest one yet; over two hundred people have signed up.
The next morning, I wake up dry-humping my pillow with vivid flashbacks of Logan’s tongue. The man put his mouth to very good use last night. Better than all the hours he’s spent arguing with me. But if he wants to use that tongue after every argument, I will pick a fight with him every single day.
After I dress, I swing by Sip and Sleigh.
A coffee is exactly what I need before heading to the festival grounds.
Lauren has been doing a fantastic job managing the graphics and marketing, which is helping to build excitement for the festival.
I don’t think I could have done all of this without her help.
Even her taking the reins on organizing the sleigh ride has been a blessing.
The bell jingles as I step inside, still smiling like someone who got thoroughly… well, distracted.
Sloane zeroes in on me, her eyes sparkling. “You’ve got a little extra pep in your step. And I doubt it’s because you love snowman contests that much.”
“Maybe it is,” I say, the words sounding braver than I feel.
She rolls her eyes. “Ooor maybe it has something to do with me overhearing the Gigis this morning and their fresh batch of hot gossip.”
Shit. Hot gossip could be anything, and nothing’s hotter than what Logan and I did last night.
Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Oh look, I’m blushing so hard I might combust and take the croissants with me.
Perhaps it’s something else. At least I can pretend.
“Let me guess. Mr. Holter’s lawn gnomes went missing again, when in fact, they’re only buried by the snow. ”
“Nope.” She pops the p for extra emphasis.
“Mrs. Haugan inquired about the non-delivery of her mail. Again.”
She shakes her head.
I sigh. “I give up.”
“It’s about how a certain hometown hockey hero’s truck was spotted next to yours outside Santa’s Workshop for an unreasonable amount of time to be considered a casual conversation.”
Heat creeps up my neck. I yank at my scarf, like that’ll help. “Oh.”
“Exactly.” She quirks a brow. “So, why was Logan’s truck outside Santa’s Workshop for an unreasonable amount of time?”
“He dropped off my snowman’s top hat. And we wrapped presents.” Not technically a lie.
“Uh-huh. Just wrapping presents?”
I can’t tell her he gave me a Christmas present he unwrapped with his tongue that sent me into orgasm bliss several times.
“That’s it,” I spit out. I don’t know what Logan and I are doing.
Besides the one-time exchange of orgasms. I’d hate for it to be only one time.
But everything between us is so new. We haven’t even discussed what we’re doing.
As far as I know, it will be a one-and-done situation, and later he’ll forget it even happened, and we’ll go back to sabotaging each other’s events.
She tilts her head to the side. “Is that why you have a hickey on your neck?”
Did he give me a hickey? My hand flies to my neck. My fingers meeting the crocheted fabric of my scarf instead of skin. Dammit. It would be impossible for her to see if I had a hickey.
Her smile goes full supernova. “Yup. Got my answer.”
“Don’t say anything,” I hiss.
“As long as you give me all the details later.” She straightens, all professional again.
“You know, people take the Gigis words as gossip, but I’m thinking they’re more like truth bombs.
They detonate at the perfect time, exploding all over Mount Holly.
” She slides a paper cup toward me. “Here’s your coffee.
Enjoy your splendid day…” she leans in, voice dropping to a whisper, “thinking about Logan.”
Another wave of heat scorches my cheeks. I snatch the cup, muttering a thanks, and head for the door. Splendid day, indeed. Twelve full hours of trying not to daydream about Logan Crawford and failing.