Chapter 8
Eve
Morning comes far too early, and I am absolutely dead on my feet. If I’d known helping Luke on the farm for two weeks meant being up before the sun, I might have reconsidered.
This morning, though, I got to sleep a whole fifteen minutes later because we’re doing deliveries in town.
When he showed up outside the inn with a thermos of coffee and a raised eyebrow, I could have kissed him.
Wait. Scratch that. Suddenly that catch phrase is just too real.
We’ve been at this for three hours already and we’re only halfway through our deliveries for the morning.
The bookstore is our next stop, and I shift the crate of fresh milk in my arms, stifling a yawn as I step inside. The warm scent of books and cinnamon greets me, instantly making me feel cozier despite my exhaustion.
Mrs. Carter, the owner, is at the register, chatting animatedly with another woman whose back is to me.
“—such a lovely duet last night! I had no idea Luke could sing like that,” Mrs. Carter says.
“Oh, yes. He hasn’t in years. Not since the night his parents died. I heard Eve was supposed to be there that night, but canceled,” the mystery woman is saying, her voice a little too enthusiastic for a casual remark.
I know that voice.
My stomach sinks as the woman turns to face me, a knowing smile stretching across her face. It’s Pam, my mom’s friend, and notorious town gossip.
“There she is!” Pam exclaims, clapping her hands together like she’s just summoned me from thin air. “We were just talking about you.”
I force a polite smile and set the crate on the counter. “Good morning, Pam. Mrs. Carter.”
Mrs. Carter winks. “Good morning, dear. You look exhausted. Long night?”
Pam chuckles, and I can already see where this is going. “Well, it was certainly an eventful night, wasn’t it? You and Luke singing together… I don’t think anyone saw that coming.”
I resist the urge to groan. I knew this was going to get around. According to my mom, the town has been practically starved for gossip since the Johnsons reconciled and stopped their weekly screaming matches in the town square.
“Yeah, it was… unexpected,” I say, keeping my tone light.
Pam leans in conspiratorially. “Unexpectedly good. You two had the whole room enchanted. I’m just so glad that Gemma didn’t win again. She’s talented, but at some point, we all just get tired of hearing her sing the same song, year after year.”
I clear my throat. “Well, I’m pretty sure we only won because Gemma didn’t compete.”
Stormed out is more accurate.
Pam nods, her eyes twinkling. “Perhaps. But whooooowee! Honey, she looked like she bit into a lemon. I swear, steam was practically coming out of her ears.”
I try to act indifferent, but my fingers tighten around the milk crate. Gemma has always found a way to make my life miserable. In high school, she made sure I knew exactly where I stood—at the very bottom of the social hierarchy. But the worst thing she ever did?
Senior year. That exact same show choir state championship Pam had just mentioned.
Luke and I were supposed to sing a duet, but the night before, Gemma cornered me in the locker room, sneering as she whispered, You’re going to cost us the title and Luke will never get a scholarship to a good school.
Your voice is awful. Just do us all a favor and stay home.
So I did. I stayed home, thinking I was doing what was best for the team. They did win. But that was also the night Luke’s parents died. On the drive to pick him up from the competition.
Heat flashes into my cheeks. I don’t know why I feel guilty about that, but I do. Like it’s somehow my fault that they hit a patch of black ice and hit a tree.
I busy myself by grabbing two coffee cups and filling them at the self-serve coffee counter.
“Well… we’re adults now,” I say as the black liquid fills all the way to the lip of the cup.
“And it’s all for good fun with the Christmas Festival, right?
” But Gemma’s angry face haunted me all night last night.
Could she really be that angry that I sang with Luke?
Does she still have some kind of weird vendetta after all these years?
I shouldn’t let it bother me. But the memory of Luke standing by my side, shielding me from Gemma’s sharp words last night… that makes something warm and treacherous flutter in my chest.
I snap the lids onto the coffee and slide Mrs. Carter a five dollar bill for the two coffees as Pam nudges my arm. “He really came to your rescue, didn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t call it that.” I take a sip of mine and wince at the piping hot liquid.
“Oh, I would. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looked real protective over you.”
I set the coffees onto the counter and grab a bottle of milk from the crate and turn toward the mini fridge, hoping to hide the blush creeping up my neck. “Luke’s just… Luke.”
Pam hums in a way that suggests she does not believe me.
“Besides, it’s just a silly contest,” I say, but even I can tell my voice lacks conviction.
“That’s not what your mom says,” Pam adds. “Something about how this is the lodge’s chance to get out of debt?”
The door jingles, and I look up just as Luke strides in, carrying another delivery box. He looks as effortless as ever—broad shoulders, flannel slightly unbuttoned, hair tousled in a way that makes me suspect he just ran a hand through it.
“Morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep.
I hold out one of the coffees toward him praying that he didn’t hear anything Pam just said. “Figured you could use this.”
His eyebrows lift slightly before he takes it, his fingers brushing mine. “You get this just for me?”
“No, I got it for the other grumpy reindeer farmer in town,” I tease.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Well, thanks.”
I shrug. “It’s the least I could do.”
Luke and I hadn’t even talked about last night. It was like this giant elephant hanging out in the corner of the room with us all morning.
Mrs. Carter beams at us, eyes glinting with amusement. “I hope I’ll be seeing you two at the gingerbread house contest tonight.”
“Oh, I’m ready,” I say, straightening up. “And I will be winning this one.”
Luke snorts. “Didn’t you lose senior year to an eight-year-old?”
I glare at him. “That kid was a prodigy. And I swear his mom helped.”
Pam pats my shoulder. “You’ve got this, sweetie. And wouldn’t it be fun if Luke joined you?”
Luke shakes his head immediately. “Pass.”
Pam pouts. “Oh, come on. What else do you have to do tonight?”
“Literally anything but that,” Luke grunts.
I roll my eyes. “He doesn’t do fun, Pam. He’s allergic to it.”
Luke takes a slow sip of his coffee, eyes twinkling. It doesn’t slip my notice how they flick briefly down my body, then jerk back to my eyes. “That so?”
Mrs. Carter sighs dramatically. “Shame. It would've been nice to see you two working together again.”
Pam grins. “Or, you know… competing against each other. That’d be interesting, too.”
Luke glances at me, smirking. “You really think you stand a chance to win against me?”
“No contest.” I cross my arms. “But you’re not even entering. You already said so.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Maybe I’ll show up just to watch you lose.”
My jaw drops, and he chuckles before turning back to his deliveries. The moment he’s out of earshot, Pam fans herself exaggeratedly. “Oh, honey. If that man isn’t into you, I’ll eat my scarf.”
I sigh, grabbing the empty crate. “You might want to start seasoning it, then.”
But as I walk out the door, I can’t help but glance back at Luke, and I swear I catch him watching me.
And despite everything, the butterflies don’t go away.