Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Finley
I’m instantly captivated by vendors. The first stall on the right glitters with rows of candles in glass jars. Mallory tugs me inside, then abandons me to pick up jar after jar, sniffing like she’s a bloodhound looking for a hidden treat.
“Does Finley like candles, Alex?” Tyler’s voice comes from behind me, laced with challenge.
I turn around and see Alex leaning in the entrance, arms crossed, while Tyler scans the shelf of Christmas scents.
“What woman doesn’t like candles?” Alex answers, deadpan.
“I wasn’t asking about any woman,” Tyler’s eyes flicks to me. “I was asking about Finley.”
“Of course I love candles.” I stride over and grab Alex’s arm, tugging him into the stall before he can object.
My stomach dips, but at least he didn’t recoil from my touch.
Tyler already caught me crying earlier, and the last thing I need is to fuel his suspicions.
Alex and I agreed to be friends. Friends can touch, right?
Plus, I’m sure he wants to sell this as much as I do.
“In fact,” I add, forcing a bright tone, “Alex is going to help me pick out one for my apartment.”
“Good idea,” Alex says smoothly. “Especially since the pine scented candle in your living room is almost gone.”
He stops in front of a display, lifts a jar, and scowls at the label. “Burnt sugar cookie?” He shoots me a questioning look. “Who actually wants their house to smell like burnt cookies?”
“Hey, Santa loved my burnt sugar cookies when I was little.” I laugh as I take it from him, then lift it to my nose and sniff. “Besides, this smells nothing like my cookies. This is cookie dough mixed in with a campfire.” Then I hold it up for him to smell.
“Weird combination.” Alex leans closer and inhales, before making a face. “A poor substitute for how the kitchen smelled this morning.”
“You’re right.” I set the jar back on the shelf.
“Whenever I want to smell baked goods,” Alex says, “I’ll just ask you to bake something.”
“I thought Finley didn’t have time to bake,” Tyler cuts in, now standing next to Alex and eyeing the candles like they personally offended him.
I smile up at him. “While I’d love to bake everything from scratch like your mom, sometimes it’s box brownies and refrigerated cookie dough.”
“Which,” Alex says with the confidence of a man defending a hill he’s willing to die on, “is surprisingly good straight out of the tube.”
I blink at him, trying to picture buttoned-up Alex sneaking cookie dough out of a plastic tube. “Maybe it’s time you learn to bake too,” I say. “Asking me to do it is a little chauvinistic, don’t you think?”
Alex’s eyes widen slightly, but if we were a real couple, I wouldn’t be at his beck and call to bake.
It’s the twenty-first century. He’s just as capable of dropping tube cookie dough on a sheet and sticking it in an oven.
And as far as me coming across as contrary, real couples bicker.
It’ll add more authenticity to our situation.
And maybe, I’m still a little salty. Not that I’ll admit it.
“Yeah,” Alex says, looking properly chastised. “You have a point. I’ll bake next time.”
Tyler grunts something unintelligible and stalks off to the other side of the tent.
When I’m sure Tyler’s out of earshot, and Mallory’s engrossed in a candle, I lower my voice and look up at Alex. “What did you and Tyler argue about in the Jeep?”
His face darkens. “You caught that, did you?”
“I’d have to be blind not to.”
He moves to a new display and lifts a candle, and I follow him. I think he’s not going to answer, but he says, “He was being an asshole big brother.”
“Were you fighting about me?”
He looks startled. “Sort of. But it was more about me. Tyler’s always been…” He makes a face and shakes it off. “Don’t worry about Tyler. He’s not upset with you.”
“Mallory said Tyler thinks you brought me here to get Grant’s bed.”
He frowns. “I wish she hadn’t told you that.”
“But it’s true,” I whisper.
“Finley,” he says, and the smile that follows warms something in my chest. “My family adores you, so don’t worry about them. I’m more worried about you.”
My heart skips a beat. Did Tyler tell him he found me crying out back? “Why?”
“That call with Roland.” He pauses and my breath sticks in my chest. “Finley, I don’t know—”
I shove down my rising panic. “We already discussed that,” I say as serenely as possible. “That subject is closed.”
“Why do I feel like it’s not?” A storm brews in his eyes, and it pulls me in, which is so irritating. What kind of woman is attracted to a man who thinks she’s beneath him? I need to get more self-respect.
I flash a sharp smile. “That sounds like a you problem.”
He startles. “But—”
I’m not sticking around to listen to him try and pacify me. It would be even more humiliating than overhearing his conversation, so I head out of the tent, leaving him to chase after me.
Tyler’s standing in the middle of the crowd, people parting around him like he’s a boulder in a stream. I stop about five feet from him.
“I thought you wanted a candle,” Alex says in a worried tone as he catches up.
I paste on a sweet smile. “What kind of shopper would I be if I bought something in the first place I stopped in?”
“Looks like Mallory isn’t following the same philosophy,” Tyler says dryly from behind us.
I turn to see their sister emerge with a shopping bag. “Okay,” she says, bright-eyed and beaming. “Next.”
As I follow Mallory into the next tent, I wonder how I can pull off the plan I came up with this morning to buy presents for the King family without any of them noticing.
It stands to reason I’ll have to include Alex, but I’m still too unsettled to talk to him.
I need to get over myself. My hurt pride is dampening my joy of experiencing the market.
We visit a few more vendors, and Alex accompanies me like a dutiful boyfriend.
Part of me feels sorry for him. I’m sure he’d rather be anywhere than here, so why did he come?
Probably to convince Tyler. I’m sure that’s why he came caroling, although he didn’t look as miserable last night as he does now.
My irritation softens. Sure, he’s a snob about who he dates, but I also get it. Roland’s right—I don’t belong at their business dinners, and honestly, I wouldn’t want to go. Alex needs a woman who fits in his world, and that’s not me. Why should I hold that against him?
Still, it takes another fifteen minutes before I’m ready to talk to him.
We’re about to go into a space that sells kitchenware, but I grab Alex’s arm to keep him from following his siblings inside.
The eager look on his face catches me by surprise, but then again, I’ve been giving him the cold shoulder, and it’s obvious his siblings have noticed.
I take a deep breath, torn between apologizing or not. But an apology will open the door to our earlier conversation, and I’d rather walk back to Georgia than bring it up again, so I dive right in. “I want to get your family Christmas presents.”
Surprise fills his eyes, but then he shakes his head. “You don’t have to. Finley. They don’t expect that.”
“I know,” I say. “But I like giving gifts, and it’s part of the Christmas experience, right?”
He studies me for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“The problem is I don’t know what they like. What did you get them?”
“Gift cards.”
I blink, hoping I heard him wrong. “Did you say gift cards?”
He frowns. “What’s wrong with gift cards?”
It takes me a beat to realize he’s serious. “Alex,” I say in dismay. “Gift cards are what you get your dentist or your kids’ teachers. It’s not what you give your family.”
Irritation flickers on his face. “It’s what I’ve gotten my family for the past four years, and no one’s complained yet.”
“Anyone with any tact isn’t going to complain.” I roll my eyes. “So, as your friend, I’m telling you that you need to get them gifts too.”
He considers it and says, “Okay. But what about the gift cards?”
“You can put them in their stockings.”
His forehead creases. “What stockings?”
It’s my turn to be surprised. “You don’t have stockings?”
“We haven’t had stockings since I was a kid.”
I push out an exaggerated sigh. “We’ll add that to the list too.”
“What are you two doing over here, looking so intense?” Mallory asks, coming out of another tent, but this time without a new bag.
“Scheming,” I say with a grin.
“Well, if you’re involved then I’m going to presume it’s not Alex’s usual scheming,” Tyler says, following Mallory out.
“That was high school,” Alex grunts, but his eyes are twinkling. “I’ve grown up.”
“Debatable,” Tyler mutters.
“Well, in this instance,” I chime in. “You’re right about us scheming good things.” I shoot Alex a sarcastic grin. “Probably because I’m the one scheming and dragging Alex along with the plan.”
Alex wraps an arm around my back, his hand settling on my hip. “She didn’t have to drag me anywhere. All she has to do is bat those big, brown eyes and I’m following like a lost puppy.”
My reaction to his touch is immediate. My pulse races, my breath catches.
Mallory’s shoulders relax, clearly relieved that we’re over our conflict. Tyler’s gaze drops to Alex’s hand on my hip, and some of his suspicion seems to fade.
Alex smiles down at me, and for one split second, I believe that this is all real. I’m here with my boyfriend and his amazing siblings, having the best Christmas ever. But, ever pragmatic, I remind myself it’s not.
Don’t fall for the fantasy, Finley.
I don’t really want Alex. I like the idea of him.
Only someone needs to tell my body that, because there are flutters in my stomach and my heart is racing as he looks down at me with a warm smile.
I look away before he notices my reaction, but his breath hits my cheek, sending a shiver down my back.
He must think I’m cold because he pulls me closer.
“I think we need to get my Georgia peach something warm to drink.”
“You call her that too?” Mallory asks, practically squealing with excitement.
“How can I not?” he asks, then kisses the top of my head.
Technically, it’s a fine line on the no kissing rule, but I’m not protesting. Instead, I press myself into his side like I belong there.
“You two are so cute!” Mallory says with a dreamy look. “I wish I could find a boyfriend who’s that nice to me.”
“You don’t need a boyfriend,” Alex says in a protective tone, while Tyler grunts, “Boys your age are dogs. You need to wait until you’re thirty to date.”
“Give me a break,” Mallory says with a dramatic eyeroll. “You both were on your third or fourth girlfriend by the time you were a senior in college. Hell, Mom and Dad got married the June after they graduated.” Then she glances at me, her eyes dancing. “See what I have to put up with?”
“They just love their little sister,” I say with a warm smile, and wrap my arm around Alex’s back. I do it without thinking, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Just friends.
But when I pull away, Alex tugs me back.
“I wish my brothers didn’t love me quite so much,” Mallory says. “Which is why I rarely tell them when I’m dating someone.”
Tyler’s face goes rigid. “Are you dating anyone now?”
“No,” she says smugly.
“Would you tell me if you were?” he asks.
An impish look covers her face. “No.”
“Mallory!”
“Are you dating anyone?” she asks, propping a hand on her hip.
He lifts his chin. “I plead the fifth.”
“Yet you expect me to tell you if I’m dating someone,” she protests.
“I don’t see you drilling Alex,” Tyler says.
She gestures toward us. “That’s because it would be pretty hard for him to deny he’s dating Finley when the evidence is in front of us.”
Tyler scrutinizes us for several seconds, but it’s not as intense as when we first got here. Like he not only believes we’re a couple, but that Alex isn’t a nightmare boyfriend.
“I thought we were getting some spiked coffee,” Mallory says.
“I never said spiked coffee,” Alex counters. “And you’re too young for spiked coffee.”
She props a hand on her hip. “I’m a month away from being twenty-one, so if you think we’re getting non-spiked coffee from St. Nick’s coffee stand, then you’ve lost your mind.”
Alex lifts a brow. “The jury’s out on where my mind has gone, but we’re”—he gestures between me and him—“getting spiked coffee anyway. You’re getting regular coffee.”
“We’ll see about that,” she says, then turns around in a flounce and heads away from us.
Caught in the glow of Alex and his family, I realize I have two choices.
I can keep my guard up and worry about Tyler watching us like a hawk over the next ten days, or I fall into the illusion that Alex is my boyfriend and his family is mine, like it’s a ten-day long cosplay.
The safe choice is obvious. The risky one is tempting.
I hear my mother’s voice in my head, see the pleading in her eyes. Take risks.
I suppose you can’t get much riskier than this, only my life isn’t on the line, it’s my heart. But no one’s ever died of a broken heart, right?
Look at my heart walking a tightrope without a net.
It’s either commit to this or not, but it’s not really a choice. For once, I’m going to let my heart lead me. I’ll just deal with the fallout when I get home.
I suspect it’ll be one hell of a crash.