Merry Little Hate Notes

Chapter Eleven

HOLLY

“SHUT THE FRONT DOOR. YOU’RE spending the night with him?” Carmen screeched through the phone.

“I’m not spending the night with him. We are staying in the same condo,” I whispered for some reason. It’s not like Brandon was even there. He was out braving the snowstorm to grab some food for us. And hopefully, a toothbrush for me.

“How many bedrooms does this condo have?”

“One. But—”

“Oh,” she exaggerated, giddily interrupting me. “You have so many rom-com tropes going for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, if you read more rom-coms like I’ve been telling you, instead of nonfiction, you would know you are in the middle of a one-bed, brother’s-best-friend, enemies-to-lovers extravaganza. This is going to be ah-mazing.”

I plopped down on the comfy king-size bed in the modern-style room with clean lines and a large picture window, ready to burst my best friend’s delusional bubble. “First, there are two beds. He’s taking the sofa bed, thank you very much. Second, we are staying enemies. I don’t care if he told me on the ride up here that he’s never hated me.”

“I knew it.”

“You knew what?”

“I don’t know ... It’s just the way I would catch him looking at you after the whole kiss thing. He seemed sad. Not to say what he did to you was right—it just never made sense. You, Bran, and Christian were like the Three Musketeers. And him coming back here and working with you, that’s not adding up either. He’s the boss’s son. Certainly, he had a say in whom he would be working with.”

I curled into the fetal position on top of the tufted comforter, not liking the direction this conversation was taking. I thought she would be more sympathetic to my plight and not make sensible explanations. In high school, she was more of the opinion that Brandon was evil and must be destroyed. Obviously, that never worked out—destroying a star is nearly impossible. “He’s fooled me once. I can’t go there again. Besides, why make me think he hated me all these years if he didn’t? Who does that?” Did he have any idea how hurtful that was?

“I don’t know. Did you ask him?”

“He said he wanted to save that conversation until I no longer hate him.”

“Ooh. This is getting interesting. Wow.”

“What do you mean, wow ?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He likes you.”

Uh, I was going to have to agree to disagree with her—I’d read the notes. “I can’t believe it. He humiliated me and then cut me out of his life,” I whined, still feeling the sting of it.

“Don’t you want to find out why?”

“Of course I’m curious. But it also feels like a trap. Like how he led me to believe he had feelings for me before kissing me on a dare.” My curiosity left me wanting to know who’d dared him to do such a thing. And why he’d agreed to do it. And why he did such a thorough job of making me believe the kiss was real. Like so, so real. So real, I still remembered everything about it, from every goose bump and flutter to how he tasted.

“What kind of trap would he be setting now?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t understand any of this, especially his behavior today. Although maybe he’s just being nice to me because I freaked out in the car about the snow. And I probably scored us this deal and a huge commission for him. Get ready to be Rachel, by the way.”

“Are you serious?” she squealed. “Yes!”

“I’m serious about the deal and freaking out.” Feeling like an idiot about it, I cringed.

“I’m sorry, friend. I’m sure he doesn’t think any less of you. Mountain roads in the winter can get super sketchy.”

“True, but it was more than that. I blurted out how hard my life had been and that I just wanted to live my best Monica Geller life.” I laughed at myself for how ridiculous I’d sounded. “Then I hyperventilated the rest of the way.”

“But you still pulled off an amazing presentation, from the sound of it.”

I smiled to myself. “Yeah, I did.” Oddly, and even heartbreakingly, I kept thinking about what my mother would say about winning any court case. Winning a case is about more than presenting the facts. You must connect with everyone in the courtroom on a personal level. And you must believe everything you say. If you don’t believe it, no one else will. That’s what I’d done today. I made Blake believe in Elevate’s product, which I 100 percent believe in, and I connected with her based on my travels and Dad’s extensive career. Talking about my dad’s accomplishments without having to bring up his struggles was such a breath of fresh air. It made me feel normal. I hadn’t felt that way in so long.

“I’m not surprised at all,” Carmen responded.

“Thanks.” I heard the front door open. “Crap,” I whispered, bolting straight up. “I think he’s back. What do I do?”

“I might not be the best person to ask. I’m all about living out those rom-com tropes.”

“That’s so not happening.”

“Then I’m of no help to you. Good luck.” She laughed before hanging up, leaving me to face the man who could still elicit goose bumps and flutters just by holding my hand. I wasn’t proud of this. I wasn’t even sure why he took my hand in the restaurant. Could Carmen be right? He liked me? Ugh. There I went again, falling for his act.

“Holly?” Brandon knocked on the bedroom door, startling me so much I scrambled off the bed and straightened out my blazer.

“Um, who is it?” I replied like a dolt.

Brandon laughed that deep, masculine laugh he’d perfected. “If it’s not me, I suggest you dial 911.”

I sighed and shuffled over to the door, feeling dumber than ever. I opened it to find a grinning Brandon with a few lingering snowflakes in his hair, holding up a boutique bag.

“What’s this?” I tried not to get taken in by his handsome face. It wasn’t easy, but I was determined.

“Consider it an overnight kit.”

I took the bag, curious about its contents. I opened it to find some pink plaid flannel on top. Unable to help myself, I pulled it out and discovered it was a nightshirt. Let’s just say there wasn’t a lot to it, at least lengthwise. “Uh, it’s kind of short.”

Brandon shrugged innocently, but his eyes danced to a more devious tune. “It was all I could find. There’s a shortage of flannel in Aspen.”

“Uh-huh.” I didn’t buy it for a minute.

“I don’t know what you’re worried about. I’ve seen you in at least a dozen different bikinis. Not to mention bath towels and ... once in your bra and panties.”

“What! When?” I demanded to know.

He held up his hands. “It wasn’t my fault you streaked across the hall from the bathroom to your bedroom at exactly the same moment I was coming out of Christian’s room.”

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“Oh. Well, thanks. I think.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “I hope you still like cinnamon toothpaste and lavender lotion.”

“I do,” I said, flabbergasted he remembered any of that. “Thank you. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” he said, as if it should be obvious. “I put it all on the company card.”

“I didn’t know you could expense pj’s and toiletries,” I teased.

He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “You can also expense peppermint hot chocolate, and popcorn, and someone’s favorite New York–style pizza that will be delivered in an hour.”

Oh. He. Was. Good. I swallowed hard, begging myself not to get sucked into the magic that was Brandon, wondering why he was even behaving so flirtatiously. But looking into his caramel brownie eyes, hinting with what looked like an invitation to his magic show, had me wanting to buy a ticket for a front-row seat and live out all those tropes Carmen had mentioned. I had to remind myself this was the guy who had played me before. Seriously, what was his game plan? And why did I always seem to be a piece on his game board?

Freaking out about how easily he could suck me in, I shut the door on him, trying to remind myself he thought I had RGF, and what he stole from me. “Thanks for the stuff,” I called out, my voice shaking.

Brandon chuckled. “I’ll go make the hot chocolate and popcorn. I’ve got a Josh Duhamel movie cued up for you.”

Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Which one?” like an excited schoolgirl.

“Life as We Know It.”

“That’s not for me—that’s for you. You love Katherine Heigl.” He had posters of her on his bedroom wall when we were growing up. Not to say I didn’t love me some Josh Duhamel.

“My tastes have matured since then. This is completely altruistic.”

I could hear the smile and the lie in his voice. Which reminded me—he was a liar. “I might just go to bed early. It’s been a long day.” My brain was saying, bravo , but my heart was saying I should reconsider, that we needed to find out why Brandon had abandoned us. That was a dangerous proposition.

“Only octogenarians go to bed at this time,” he goaded me.

“It’s not a bad life,” I defended my illogical decision. I was nowhere near tired after this conversation. And I was getting hungry. I’d hardly eaten during lunch since I was nervous and did a lot of talking .

“All right,” he said, resigned. “I guess I’ll eat your favorite pizza and ogle Josh Duhamel by myself.”

I giggled. He was a charming idiot.

“Holly,” his voice turned sincere. “I know you hate me, and you have every right to. But I’d really like to change your mind about me.”

I leaned my head on the door, my heart pounding. “Why?” I asked, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“That’s a good question. And I can’t wait to tell you, but I need you in a place where I know you’ll believe me, because I know I only have one shot at this.”

A shot at what? I asked myself, feeling as if I had used up all the surrounding air, which made it difficult for me to breathe.

“I’ll be out here waiting with your pizza and Josh. Don’t mind the overly loud TV making it hard for you to sleep.” It was like he was double-dog daring me to give him a chance to change my mind about him.

I wasn’t sure that was possible. Or ... was I afraid it was?

I think we all know the answer to that question.