Faking It with My Bossy Ex (Sweet Christmas Kisses)

5. Amy

Chapter 5

Amy

I shuffle papers around, trying to look busy while my brain short circuits. How did I just agree to work with Dylan? Worse, under Dylan? There must've been something in Laura's donuts because this isn't me at all.

“Here's the event schedule,” Dylan says, dropping a couple of folders in front of me. “Think you can make a new sheet and fill in the gaps? We might need to reach out to the fundraiser participants, too.”

Of course, he’s already bossing me around. Thankfully, he disappears out the door of the study room and leaves me to my work.

As I work through the schedule, my heart sinks. It's a mess. No participant schedules, double-booked activities, or crucial details missing. There's no escaping it now. If I don't tolerate working with Dylan and help sort out this chaos, the fundraiser's doomed. And Snowfall Springs needs this to work.

When I’m finishing up the schedule and my notes about everything that has to be addressed, Dylan comes back into the study room. He’s carrying two large cups of coffee in a carrier and a paper bag.

“What’s that?” I ask as he slides a coffee over to me and sets the paper bag down in the center of the table. I eye it nervously. Is it poisoned? Probably not. Dylan doesn’t seem like the type who would aspire to go to jail.

“This is lunch.” He grins. “I have to make sure my secretary has enough energy to make heads or tails of all this.”

“I’m not your secretary.” The nerve of this guy. A deliciously tempting smell wafts up from the bag, calming my temper.

Don’t look in the bag. Don’t do it.

My traitorous hand sneaks out to peek inside, just as my stomach betrays me with a rumble. Three chicken melts from my favorite place nestle in the bag.

My heart picks up its pace. Did he seriously pick that place? The deli we'd hit after school, where I'd always get the chicken melt with extra mustard?

I reach for the coffee first, needing something to steady myself. One sip and my chest tightens. Cappuccino with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Exactly how I used to order it every morning at Miller's Café.

He remembered.

Of all the stupid little details to stick in his head after eight years, he remembered this. I want to be angry that he still knows me this well, that he can just waltz back into my life with the perfect coffee order as if he never broke my heart.

“Eight years,” I whisper, “and you remember this?”

“I remember everything about you,” his voice rough, that teasing mask slipping.

The intensity of his words hangs between us until I can't take it anymore. I grab the sandwich, trying to break whatever this moment is. One bite and … gosh. Extra mustard.

“Technically, there's no food allowed in the library.”

“What?” The savory, spicy flavor of mustard hits my tongue. No way I’m letting him gloat about remembering a simple sandwich order. “What if the librarian catches us?”

“We’ll ask the police if we can share a cell.” He peeks in the direction of the librarian, his eyes twinkling.

“That is not happening. They put men and women separate, you know.” I roll my eyes. He’s unrealistic, and even if he wasn’t, I don’t want to share a cell with him.

“I have connections in the police department.” He winks.

“You do not.” His face is all cocky and confident, and I’m not so sure anymore. This is dangerous territory.

Don’t fall for it.

I learned the hard way that I can’t trust a man to be there for me or to not break my heart. My father was the first, Dylan the second, and Teddy, in Europe, my third lesson. I don’t need a fourth, no matter how tempting Dylan is with his chicken sandwiches and heart-stopping smile.

But here I am, falling into our old rhythm like it’s nothing. I take another bite of my sandwich, using it as an excuse to avert my eyes. I can’t let him see how he’s getting to me.

“So, what condition is the schedule in?” He pulls my attention back to him and our conversation away from potential imprisonment for breaking a cardinal rule of the library.

“It’s in awful shape.” I slide the notebook over to him and take another bite. It’s hard not to close my eyes in appreciation. There's nothing like this chicken melt, not anywhere in New York City that I've tried, anyway. And nothing quite like someone remembering your favorite.

Come on, who cares if he remembered my favorite? It's just bread and chicken. Totally forgettable. Absolutely not making my day or anything.

“Looks like we're swamped for the next few days. Tomorrow's gonna be a long one. Early start, probably all day. Think you can handle spending that much time with me?” He meets my gaze as he says it, and it sends a jolt through me.

He still has that ability to upset my axis and have me questioning everything I thought I was sure about.

His hand darts out and he touches my cheek. I freeze. His thumb makes its way from right above my eye to near my lips. His warm skin tingles against mine. My body is on fire, and I want to cry at the same time. I’ve missed him, missed this. It seems so easy to just slip back into what we were.

We stay like that for another second, and I’m almost sure I see similar feelings in his eyes. Then he pulls back and his arrogant smile makes a reappearance.

He hands me a napkin. “A bit of mustard,” he explains, his eye contact never wavering.

Mustard? Or did he just want to touch my face? I dab my cheek with the napkin, and sure enough, a dot of yellow appears.

Great, now he thinks I’m a sloppy eater on top of everything else.

We finish eating, and around an hour later, I pack up a couple of things into my backpack. It’s almost dark outside, and it’s time to go to Cozy Haven Inn for the night. A warm bed, a hot bath, and a blissful Dylan-free zone are calling my name. I shoot off a text to Laura, who agrees to give me a ride.

I expected today to be a never ending parade of me avoiding Dylan and hating his guts. Instead, he was actually kind of nice to hang out around.

Finding a way to tolerate Dylan’s company instead of loathing it could be a good thing. It doesn’t change my feelings about him.

“Need a ride to your hotel?” Dylan's voice cuts through my thoughts. He's leaning against the doorframe, hands stuffed in his pockets, giving me that look. The one that used to make my knees weak.

Who am I kidding? It still does.

I force myself to meet his gaze, fighting the warmth spreading through my body. Why does he still have this effect on me? It's been years, for crying out loud.

“Um, no thanks. Laura’s going to give me a ride.” I survived the ride into town with him, but a repeat of the experience is a bad idea. Besides, Laura and I have been texting all day, and Laura wants to spend as much time with me as she can before I leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Maybe I’ll get lucky and my door will get jammed shut and I’ll be forced to spend the whole day resting in my cabin instead of coming back to town.

“Hey,” he calls before I leave. “Thanks for doing this.” For a moment, his gaze softens.

I nod, my response stuck in my throat. Maybe some time at the inn will give me time to come up with a game plan for how I’ll manage being around Dylan for the next week. As I walk away, I can feel Dylan’s gaze boring through my back, as if he’s reading me inside and out.

Would it be weird if I ran, so I’d be out of sight faster?

Yeah, too weird.

Laura is outside in her Jeep, the motor running and the windows fogging up.

She opens the passenger door for me and I jump in. I’d left my suitcase at the bakery, intending to pick it up later, but I see she’s already put it in the back.

“How’d it go?” she coos. “Everything set for the fundraiser?”

I groan out loud. She’s never going to believe it. Then once she does, she’ll never let me live the situation down.

“No, it’s not set. Would you believe I’m working with Dylan now, too? This town hasn’t organized a file properly for the past thousand years, I’d guess.” I shake my head. “When we were going through the boxes, I’m pretty sure I found a few bones from the prehistoric era.”

“It can’t be that bad. You were at the library all afternoon with Dylan?” Her expression can only be described as giddy. She reaches out and turns the heater on full blast.

“Yes, unfortunately. And for the rest of the week, we’ll be working together.” There was a time when that would have seemed like heaven—the conversations and everything else we could do with afternoons cooped up in the library.

My stomach turns. How many afternoons like that did he spend with Clara?

“Has the library hung up their mistletoe yet?” Laura turns down the street toward the inn with a giggle.

“No, they haven’t, but they could cover every surface with mistletoe, and I wouldn’t kiss Dylan.”

I'm definitely not thinking about kissing him right now. Especially not about how his lips might feel against mine or how his arms might wrap around me. Nope, those thoughts aren't crossing my mind even for a second.

I blink hard, forcing myself back to reality. The snow is still falling, even though there are several inches on the ground. Thankfully, my conversation with Laura steers away from Dylan until we drive up to the Cozy Haven Inn.

It takes around thirty minutes to get there, though part of that has to do with the icy condition of the road. True to advertising, it looks like the coziest thing I've ever seen. The windows remind me of a cottage, and warm light is spilling out onto the snow. The outside is decorated with Christmas lights and wreaths. It's everything I could want from a getaway week.

“This is as far as I can drive the car. I'm going to have a rough time getting back in the snow.” Laura peers at the little white building glowing in the snow. “Are you sure you're going to be okay up here?”

“I am going to be perfectly fine. Don't you worry.” I called two tow companies about my car, but neither of them had a truck available to go get it today. Hopefully, it'll be fine sitting on the side of the road for the night. Soon, I'll have it back along with my independence.

“I'll see you tomorrow.” Laura smiles and hands me a little bag. “I packed these for you as a welcome gift.” It smells delicious.

“Thank you so much.” Tears prickle the backs of my eyes as I clutch the bag to my chest. Laura's been so friendly and has made me feel like I’m back home after a long time.

After Dylan, I threw myself into my work and my art. Deep down, I was scared of running into him again, into everything that we’d shared together, to dredge up all those memories that still feel like reality sometimes.

“Don't worry about getting me tomorrow. I'm going to walk the path into town.”

There are paths all over the woods, and a lot of them are shortcuts in and out of town. I can be sure there won’t be an appearance of a certain someone who I now deem too hot to handle, since he’s much more comfortable in his fancy little car.

“Be careful, and text me when you get to the library tomorrow.” Laura smiles warmly.

After I get my suitcase from the trunk, Laura drives off, leaving me in front of the Cozy Haven. A blur of motion off to my left catches my attention. I am barely able to turn when a dog barrels across the snow, coming right for me, knocking me to the ground.

Terror shoots through me as I jump to my feet. I suppose the one thing worse than constantly running into Dylan would be getting mauled by a wild dog. Thankfully, he’s not baring his teeth and snarling. Instead, his pink tongue shoots out, covering my hands with his slobber. His entire body wriggles as if he can’t get close enough to me.

I kneel. Dogs are easy, simple. When they’re nice, all they want is you. They don’t care about your past or what was between you. I bury my hands in his warm, yellow fur while protecting the bag of pastries. I reach for his collar and find a name tag.

“Pepper, it’s nice to meet you.” I laugh as he licks my cheek. He looks like a golden retriever, and it’s funny because that is the only thing I can think of that would make the Cozy Haven Inn any more wholesome than it already is.

I grab my suitcase and backpack and make my way toward the main building. The sooner I get into my cabin, the sooner I can relax. And the sooner I can stop thinking about Dylan.

Not that his illegally gorgeous face makes my heart race at all.