Merry Little Hate Notes

Chapter Fifteen

HOLLY

“TOUGH brEAK YESTERDAY.” KRISTA LEANED over the bathroom sink to get a better look in the mirror while she finished applying her pink lip stain.

I curled my lips, still unhappy about getting disqualified from the cookie-decorating contest yesterday because I had the audacity to use my own sugar crystals. No one said beforehand we couldn’t bring our own cookie decorations. And dang it if our cookies didn’t look the prettiest. Like, so, so pretty. Everyone said so except for that sore loser, Jason, who blabbed about my sugar crystals. Why did he even have eyes on our table? I thought I’d been sneaky about the contraband I’d used on my perfectly frosted snowflake. Now I wished I had nailed his cologne habits in our “Twelve Days of Christmas” song.

“Jason is going down today in the gift-wrapping contest. I have some mad wrapping paper skills,” I boasted. Not sure this was the kind of holly jolly attitude Brandon’s wingman was hoping I’d catch during these team-building exercises, but I wanted vindication.

Krista popped her lip stain into her purse and laughed. “Well, at least you have a sexy partner, who, I might add, seems to have a thing for you,” she sang.

I immediately felt my cheeks burn to a crisp. “Uh ... why would you say that?” To my ever-loving surprise, it appeared Brandon really did have a thing for me. Either that or he was a big fat liar who talked to sleeping women for the fun of it.

“Oh, please.” Jane walked out of a stall with her pants still undone. That was attractive. “It’s so obvious by the way he was behaving yesterday. The touching, the gazing. You should probably report him to HR.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Especially since I kind of liked it—or maybe I liked it a lot. It was all so confusing. I hadn’t been lying yesterday when I’d said I still hated him. He stole himself from me and made me believe a terrible lie for almost half my life. On the other hand, there was just something about being with him again. For the first time in a long time, I could feel the parts of myself I’d been missing. Parts that scared me.

“Ooh, do you like him?” Krista wagged her brows.

That was a good question. The simple answer was yes. I’d always liked the boy I loved to hate. I’d even loved him. That made this even more complicated. He’d lied and crushed my tender soul. I kept thinking about how much I could have really used his shoulder to lean on and cry on over the last decade or so. Despite our weird relationship, he had a gift for making me feel like everything would be okay.

“He’s a good account executive to work with,” I offered instead of answering her real question. “Besides, he likes Katherine Heigl.”

Jane started washing her hands with her pants still unbuttoned. Apparently, we were getting too cozy with each other. “That’s a definite nonstarter.”

Krista tossed her head from side to side. “Still not sure that’s a deal-breaker. The man does look like a tasty snack. But since I let his odd crush slip, he’s been dropping in the Mistletoe Manness rankings.”

I had to hide my smile. My evil plan was working. Nobody better be thinking about taking a taste of that snack until I decided what to do with him. They probably shouldn’t think of him like a snack, period. But that was neither here nor there at the moment. Admittedly, I was kind of enjoying torturing him. The man was normally a smooth operator, so watching him fumble with his words and say ridiculous things was entertaining .

“Forget Mistletoe Manness,” Jane barked while finally buttoning her pants. “Did you hear what happened during team two’s cookie-decorating contest?”

“What?” Krista and I eagerly said in unison. Team two was a hotbed of gossip and my primary source of work entertainment. You know, besides Brandon.

“Let’s just say that Amy and Rita used their cookies to send each other a message. Not the ones they submitted for the competition, but according to my source, they each delivered a cookie to the other person’s desk with a nasty message written in frosting.”

“What did they say?” Krista asked.

Jane grinned impishly, revealing lipstick on her teeth. “Some choice four-letter words. Words I’m going to be using until the holiday cheer around here comes to an end.”

Krista and I laughed. Jane had mixed frostings together yesterday to make an awful, putrid-looking color and then proceeded to frost as many cookies as she could with it. Needless to say, she and her partner, Gerald, didn’t win.

“Only fifteen more days until we’re off for Christmas,” Krista tried to console her.

“Ugh. I’m going to take some PTO days,” Jane grumbled.

“You have fun with that. I need to get to work. Bye, ladies.” I waved and walked out, wondering if Brandon was done with his early-morning meeting and if he’d seen my hate note yet. I decided to keep to his holiday theme but still add in some Shakespeare vibes to liven it up. This morning’s note said, May you crèche and burn, you stuffed cloakbag of guts. If Shakespeare were alive today, he would do quite well on social media. Probably not in a good way because, man, could he wreck people.

I arrived at my desk to find Brandon still in his meeting, but he’d left me a bright-blue sticky note tucked carefully under my laptop. The sight of it had me feeling like I was sixteen again, anxious to see what he had to say, even though I knew it would be “hateful.” Hate was our language. I wondered if we’d be able to transition. As much as I’d loved the hate-note game growing up, it wasn’t exactly conducive to creating or sustaining a mature relationship. Don’t get me wrong: If Brandon and I ended up together, I would buy sticky notes for the rest of my life. But I needed more than hate—I’m sure he did too. How did we get there, though? Should we even try?

Obviously, my subconscious wanted us together. Every time I was around him, my mouth wanted to blurt out the truth. I’d even shown him my crazy chart-loving side. Oddly, it didn’t scare him off. But last night my brain was in chart mode while I tried to sleep. It would be lovely if my mind would count sheep instead of worst-case scenarios. Maybe someday. Anyway, last night’s charts indicated there was a good chance of me believing in magic again if I let Brandon change my mind about him. And that could lead to more soul crushing if things didn’t work out. The charts also highlighted the possibility Brandon was really just a talented actor and his TED Talk was just another lie. Charts could be tricky like that. However, I had a feeling the TED Talk was sincere, and that scared me. See chart 218 about the horrific side of magic.

Braving that possibility, I snatched the note and read it silently. Baby, you’re cold inside. I smiled to myself. He was such a dork. I placed the note in my bag before logging into my laptop. I was waiting for an email from Blake to see if she wished to move forward and send the contract through the proper legal channels.

While I lamented that Blake hadn’t responded, Brandon appeared, looking as handsome as ever dressed in dark dress slacks and a charcoal button-down that showed off his tapered waist. The shape of his body gave me the good shivers.

“Good morning,” his deep, rumbly voice tickled my ears.

“Good morning. How was your call?” I really needed some of these accounts to close. Carmen was sending me apartment listings every hour on the hour. Oh, I had charts about that too. They mostly included my dad having a relapse and me never forgiving yours truly. Mentally, I exhausted myself.

Brandon crossed the gap between his desk and mine, landing close enough I could see the flecks of gold in his deep-brown eyes. I did my best not to get lost in them—they were magically delicious.

“It went well,” he informed me. “Cash would like to meet for lunch next week. I think he’s ready to sign, and I want you to come with me.”

Cash was the CEO of Reliable Systems, a large manufacturing company in town. I didn’t think he cared who handled his company’s account as long as they were knowledgeable and aboveboard. This wasn’t an Artemis situation. “Why do you need me to come?”

“Because you’re a natural at this. You’re too good to stay stuck in your BDR position.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a BDR,” I said, half-offended. Not that I hadn’t had this thought a thousand times, but he didn’t need to remind me.

“I never said there was, but this job can’t satisfy you. I saw the way you handled yourself with Blake—it was masterful. You’re too smart and clever to remain stagnant in a dead-end job. At the very least, you should accept a promotion here. But really, you should be in a courtroom somewhere prosecuting criminals ... or stuffed animals,” he teased.

Except it was no laughing matter to me. He’d struck a sensitive nerve. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I grabbed my laptop and, like I always did, ran from the truth—if you count running to one of the telephone-booth rooms we used to make client calls. They were essentially glorified closets used to keep client information private. Normally, I would have run to the bathroom, but I needed to be alone with my thoughts.

Dang Brandon—he had no idea what I’d been through. I had good reasons for not living out my dream. Maybe if he’d stuck around and not lied to me about how he felt, I could have shared the truth with him. Because did I ever need to let that poison out of my system. And I had a feeling that if Brandon had given me the opportunity to tell him, I would have. He might even have helped me work through the ugly secret I’d been keeping inside, hoping my father never found out. I feared it would completely destroy him. Or maybe it would obliterate me to say it out loud. There was something about keeping it to myself that allowed me a tiny shred of denial. Except my mother’s absence was a stark reminder it was true—so true that apparently neither she nor I wished to face it. Or each other.

Not that I’d had any emotional reserves left to face it or her. At least not on my own. Keeping my dad alive and dealing with Christian’s death was all I could handle. It had left little room for dealing with my mother’s betrayal and my unfulfilled dreams.

As soon as I was in the booth, I set my laptop on the short countertop before leaning against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I was usually much better at keeping my emotions contained at work. I blamed Brandon and his wingman—they were doing things to me, making me remember and connecting me to my past. It had me thinking about a different future—the future I’d always wanted but never thought I’d have.

Without warning, Brandon opened the door and slid in. The tiny room was made to accommodate only one person, so his presence made it feel awfully cozy and warm. More like heated.

“You can’t be in here,” I complained. “It’s going to look like we’re being untoward.” What would it do to my reputation if my coworkers thought I was seeing a Katherine Heigl fan? Of course, the only reason people knew he loved the actress was because of me.

“Untoward?” Brandon laughed. “Why would people think that?”

Oh crap. Seriously, why couldn’t I just keep my mouth closed around him? I squeezed my eyes shut like that would help. “Because women are talking in the bathroom about how they think we like each other.” See, I couldn’t even keep that to myself. What kind of strange magic did this man possess over me?

“I do like you, Holly.”

I opened my eyes to find Brandon had inched closer, which meant we were about as close as we could get. So close, I could feel his breath on my cheek, making me weak in the knees. A desire to grip his shirt and pull him flush against my body came over me, but I resisted the urge.

If anyone peeked in through the short, narrow window in the door, they would definitely think all sorts of untoward things were going on here. It was a good thing the owner of the company would be happy to find us in this compromising situation.

“Brandon, what are you doing?” I breathed out. I should have told him to take a hike, but I wasn’t thinking straight. His warm cedar scent and that stubble painted on his taut jawline were scrambling my brain .

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted. “I keep saying the wrong things to you and screwing up. It’s not my intention.”

“What is your intention?” I asked, like I didn’t already know. But I wasn’t sure when was the right time to tell someone you’d heard their TED Talk.

“I want to prove to you I’m not your enemy, but your best friend. Maybe even be your hero if you need one, though it’s you who has obviously been the hero all these years. Mostly, I want you to know I’ve cut the string to the yo-yo.”

For someone who thought he kept saying all the wrong things, he’d just nailed that response. “Brandon, I don’t know if this is a good idea.” I already had a best friend. Not that you couldn’t have more than one, and it wouldn’t be awful to have a best friend who knew how to administer foot-popping kisses. Man, did I miss a good kiss. On the other hand, he was admittedly an idiot. Did I want an idiot best friend?

“I understand why you feel that way, but I have to believe there’s a reason you always say too much to me. And you hugged me yesterday when you thought we were going to win the cookie-decorating contest. Not to mention your eyes light up when you see me.”

They did? Of course they did. My darn eyes—the traitors. And did that hug ever feel good yesterday. Something about being in Brandon’s arms made me feel safe.

“There’s been something between us since the day we met when you were eight years old and you told me I was gross like raisin bran.”

I smiled, remembering how he’d vexed me in both the most aggravating and best ways from the very beginning. He was right—there had always been a spark between us. “You can’t judge me for that note. It was my first one and not my finest hour.” I think that was the first time we’d ever acknowledged the notes out loud. It broke one of our unwritten rules. Maybe it was time to break them; time to move past the hate.

“It wasn’t bad, but you definitely honed your craft over the years.”

“I suppose I did.” I was pretty proud of the hate I could spew—not sure that was a good thing.

“Please, Holly, let me change your mind about me. There are important things I need to say to you. Things I should have said a long time ago, but couldn’t. Or at least I thought I couldn’t.”

“Just say them.” You know, since unbeknownst to him, he already had. I continually wondered if I should let him know. But how does one say, Hey, by the way, I know you’re in love with me ? That seemed like something you should let someone tell you when they’re ready. More importantly, when I was ready to hear it.

“I can’t. Not until you believe I’m no longer your enemy and I quit saying all the wrong things to you. I didn’t mean to upset you earlier. I just can’t believe this job is what you really want.”

“It’s not,” my voice cracked. “But’s it what I needed at the time. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“You’re right, but I want to.” He paused before grinning. “I think we should remedy this situation if you are amenable. Perhaps we should spend more time together. Outside the office,” he added nervously.

“That sounds dangerous.” Because I already wanted to tell him everything and more.

“Very,” he agreed.

“What would we do?”

“I have some ideas,” he crooned way too sexily.

“Well, I’m kind of busy. I have yoga classes to go to and Costco runs to make. Oh, and Friends reruns to watch.” I tried to resist even though in my heart I knew it was a lost cause. Brandon helped me feel like myself, and I missed that girl. So much.

“I’ve been meaning to try out yoga and get a Costco membership. What do they have at Costco?” He laughed.

“Enormous bags of dried mangoes.”

“I like mangoes.” He ran a warm finger down my cheek, leaving a trail of sparks. “I like you even more.”

“You’re going to have to prove that to me,” my voice shook from the shivers he was giving me.

“Liking mangoes, or you?”

“Both.” It was my fantasy, after all, to meet a sexy man in the dried fruit aisle of Costco .

“Deal. Do you want to go to Costco tonight?” He didn’t skip a beat.

“I can’t. I promised Carmen I would go to yoga with her. She wants me to meet her parents’ next worst nightmare.”

Brandon cocked his head. “Next worst nightmare?”

“Yeah. She’s determined to only date men her parents hate.”

“That sounds like Carmen. Didn’t she run off with some wannabe rock star after high school?”

“Yep. His stage name was Tiger Eyes.”

Brandon chuckled.

“Thankfully, it didn’t last long. Tiger Eyes had roving eyes.”

“Ouch.”

“Unfortunately, her taste in men hasn’t gotten much better over the years, but apparently Marco is different. He’s a fellow yoga instructor.”

“So can anyone attend the yoga class?” Brandon asked, not so subtly.

“I suppose so. But just so you know, this is a flow class. It’s difficult—not just meditating and breathing,” I tried to warn him. Honestly, yoga was no joke. It stretched things I never knew existed and made me sweat like no other workout.

“Is this your way of saying you don’t want me to come?”

I swallowed hard, torn about it. This was a big deal. Opening the door to Brandon meant taking a colossal risk. It meant dreaming again. On the other hand, maybe if I started dreaming again, I could stop making charts at night. That would be lovely.

I peered into Brandon’s hopeful eyes. In them I saw the boy I once loved staring back at me. I missed him. Maybe it was time to see what kind of a man he had turned into. I mean, according to my dad, we were scientifically a good match. But all theories need to be tested.

“All right, you can come,” I breathed out like I’d just done something monumentally courageous.

Brandon’s eyes lit up like I’d handed him a prize. “Should I pick you up?”

“I’ll meet you there.” We needed to take baby steps.

“I’ll be there,” he promised .

“Okay,” I squeaked. “Now get out of here and don’t let anyone see you. I don’t want to start any more rumors.”

Brandon’s brows furrowed. “Speaking of rumors, have you heard any about me? I feel like the women in the office are giving me strange looks and purposely avoiding me.”

I pressed my lips together, holding back a laugh. Perhaps I felt a little guilty. But I figured if Brandon ended up changing my mind about him, then I would remedy the Katherine Heigl situation. “Really? That’s odd. I wonder why. I could check with my sources in the bathroom.”

Brandon narrowed his eyes. “What goes on in that bathroom?”

I waved my finger in front of him. “The first rule of the bathroom is: What happens in the bathroom, stays in the bathroom.”

Brandon leaned in, his hand on the wall supporting him. His lips were achingly close. “What about what happens in here?” he whispered, like he was inviting me to get written up by HR.

I had to push on his rock-hard chest to make sure he kept his distance before I became the topic of the bathroom gossip. I was about ready to give Joel, Amy, and Rita a run for their money. “Uh,” I stuttered. “Jury is still out.”

“I plan to make my case to you.”

“You’d better come prepared. You know how tough I can be in the courtroom.”

“Believe me, I know.”

I had to prepare myself for the possibility I might just find him guilty of loving me. If that were the case, it could mean a life sentence of dreams and magic. Was I ready for that?