Merry Little Hate Notes

Chapter Twenty-Four

brANDON

I SLID HOLLY A NOTE across the table we were sitting at before she got up to serenade all our coworkers at the start of our Friday team-building exercise. It had been the first time all week she could make good on our bet. Holly was on fire, and we’d been in meeting after meeting this week, trying to close deals. Dynamic had signed yesterday, and I expected to get Reliable Systems’ contract back later today. Artemis was even still on the table after Holly called Blake and then sent her several charts and graphs detailing why Elevate was the best choice.

Holly was a force to be reckoned with, and damn, it was hot. She was torturing me. I’d had to make up every excuse in the book this past week for why we couldn’t be alone. Tuesday night, I’d arranged for us to help serve dinner at a homeless shelter in downtown Denver with my parents, which my wingman was ecstatic about. So ecstatic, I hardly saw Holly the entire night as my mom monopolized her. Wednesday night I took her to a hockey game with eighteen thousand other people, so we were safe there. Walking her to the door was getting tricky. I went straight for the forehead kiss every night. Except I lingered so long, she probably thought I was going to suck her forehead off. Last night, we had a romantic evening at an art exhibit with her dad, and she drove home with him. Believe me, I was kicking myself as I watched her leave with him. Especially as she stared out the window at me as if I’d lost my mind.

It felt as if I had lost my mind. Holly was driving me mad with passion, but I couldn’t act on my feelings until she knew the truth. I didn’t want to rain on her parade this week. Not when she was so happy she’d decided to apply to law school and move out on her own with Carmen. And selfishly, I loved how well she was playing our new game. Her love notes were just as brilliant as her hate notes had been. Admittedly, I was still googling most of mine. Including the one I just slid over to her.

The smile she offered me, even though she wasn’t happy I was making her see this bet through, was one more reason to put off telling her the truth. Her grin indicated I was changing her mind about me. The thought of her returning to her stance of hating me killed me.

Holly looked around to see if anyone was watching before she lifted the note, careful to keep it hidden in the palm of her hand while she read, Shake it like a North Pole-aroid picture . She laughed that irresistible laugh of hers. Quietly, of course. Apparently, there was a lot of talk about us in the bathroom, and Holly was doing her best to stave off any rumors.

“You’re such a dork,” she whispered.

A dork who was in love with her. “Admit it—you like it.”

She tossed her long wavy hair off her shoulder. “I like you,” she mouthed, slowly and succinctly, in the sexiest way possible.

So sexy, I was about ready to throw the truth out the window and validate all the rumors about us. Instead, I just sat there slack jawed, entranced by her.

Her impish smile said she knew she had rendered me incompetent. “Get ready to give me a round of Santa-plause. See what I did there?”

“Clever.” I grinned.

“PS: I still hate you for making me do this.”

I leaned toward her. “I’m not buying it. Good luck.”

She wrinkled her nose at me before she pranced up to the front in her jumpsuit that quite nicely highlighted every curve she owned. She made her way toward Camille, who was standing near a large stack of boxes, getting ready to tell us all about today’s torture. Holly had spoken to Camille earlier and informed her she needed to make good on a bet. Camille was more than happy to let Holly make a fool of herself—not to say she was going to. Regardless, I was going to enjoy it.

“Before we begin, Holly is going to provide us with a little holiday entertainment,” Camille announced, using the karaoke machine’s mic.

That caught the attention of all our coworkers, who, like me, were seated in the dining area, counting down the days until all the holiday cheer at work would end.

Holly warily took the mic with her unsteady hand.

So maybe I felt bad about that, but she was the one who’d made the bet.

She glared at me before saying, “Hi, everyone,” in a pitch well above her own.

I pulled out my phone to record this for our posterity. Yes, I had every intention of marrying Holly. Not that I would tell her that anytime soon, especially not before she forgave me for the current situation.

“So, you’re probably wondering what I’m doing up here. A word of advice: Don’t make bets with the Devil. Ever,” Holly said.

All eyes in the room darted my way.

I held up my hands as if I were innocent. I wouldn’t say I was the Devil. Perhaps devilish, considering the untoward thoughts that frequently raced through my mind about her.

“Here goes nothing.” Holly let out a breath, and with a trembling hand, she pressed the button, shutting her eyes tightly, waiting for the music to start. The familiar melody of “Jingle Bells” erupted, filling the air with its lively beat, resonating throughout the common area.

Holly gave me one more deadly look before singing clearly in her warm alto voice, “Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh. O’er the fields we go, laughing all the way.”

Everyone looked around in amazement as Holly belted out perhaps the best rendition of “Jingle Bells” I’d ever heard. Our children were going to be so proud of her one day, even though she’d likely kill me if I ever shared the video with anyone.

To my surprise, several in the group started singing along. It must have surprised Holly too, as she stared dumbfounded out into the crowd, although obviously pleased. So pleased, she held out the mic to the group and let them finish the song with a resounding, “Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh!”

As soon as the song was over, the crowd erupted in an enormous round of Santa-plause. But no one clapped louder than me. Holly had me wanting to drop to one knee right there.

“Wow. That was actually good,” Camille bellowed over the group, making everyone quiet down.

Holly tiptoed back to our table, blushing but grinning.

As soon as she took her seat next to me, I leaned in and whispered, “I’d dash through the snow with you any day.”

She bit her lip. “Stop,” she playfully responded. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

That sounded like fun to me. You know, as soon as I was man enough to break her heart again. I tried not to think about it. I really wanted to win today’s exercise for Holly. It frustrated her we hadn’t won at least once.

“Today’s challenge is a take on Iron Chef ,” Camille announced. “You will have one hour to make a holiday dessert using the contents in the box you’re given. Each dessert must use the secret ingredient. Which is ... drumroll, please.”

Several in the crowd tapped their fingers on the tables.

“Peppermint candy!” Camille shouted above the tapping.

“Yes.” Holly pumped her fist in the air. “We so have this one in the bag.”

I felt our odds were good, considering Holly’s addiction to peppermint at this time of the year.

Eager to see what ingredients we had been given, Holly raced for our box and ran it back to our table.

I helped her open it and take out the contents, which included chocolate cookies, whipped cream, pudding, and, of course, peppermint candy.

Holly’s eyes lit up. “This is good. Let’s go grab a space in the kitchen.”

We, along with everyone else, rushed to the kitchen to grab some counter space and the kitchen tools we needed. It was somewhat of a dog-eat-dog world. As much as all the employees complained about these team-building exercises, they were awfully competitive. Except Jane, who sat on a stool and ate the ingredients out of her box while looking down her nose at the rest of us.

“We’re going to make a peppermint dream dessert,” Holly informed me.

“Sounds good. What do you need me to do?”

She handed me the bag of candy. “Unwrap these and then crush them and the cookies too, please. Leave the rest to me.”

I saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

She laughed, but only for a second before she got right down to business finding bowls so she could whip up the pudding and the cream.

I practically manhandled Jason to get the rolling pin before he did. All’s fair in love and war, and this was all for love.

The kitchen was a flurry of activity with people yelling directions to their partners above the Christmas music playing in the background and the beeping of the three microwaves. Unfortunately, someone burned chocolate in one of them. Who knew how acrid chocolate could smell? That didn’t deter Holly. She didn’t bat an eye as she pushed her way through while most people were covering their mouths and noses, complaining loudly. This was why Holly was going to make an excellent attorney. She knew how to ignore what didn’t matter and get the job done. And did she ever get it done.

When the hour was up and Camille called time, Holly waved a hand over her masterpiece with the four layers of holiday goodness she had prettily plated using the leftover peppermint candy. “Ta-da,” she sang.

“It’s perfect.” As was she.

“Let’s hope it is.” She crossed her fingers .

I delivered our plate to the judges, and then Holly and I took our seats back at the bistro table.

A lot of smack talk ensued among our coworkers as we waited for Camille and the executive VP of finance to judge the desserts. I didn’t envy the task. While some desserts, like ours, looked delicious, others appeared downright inedible—a.k.a. the burned chocolate one.

Surprisingly, Holly placed her hand on my thigh under the table and squeezed it. Without thinking, I placed my hand over hers, silently begging for her to keep it there. She flashed me a nervous glance, knowing we were playing with fire and could easily get caught. Yet her hand stayed, allowing me to caress her soft skin. With every stroke of my thumb, her fingers dug deeper into my thigh, stringing the sexual tension between us tighter and tighter until I didn’t care if we got caught. We didn’t dare look at each other. I think we both knew if we did, our secret would be out.

Minute after minute, we played our dangerous game in silence while we let our actions speak for themselves. The beautiful agony came to an end when Camille announced they’d decided on a winner. The lively common area got quiet.

Holly removed her hand from my thigh and clasped her hands in front of her, squinting until Camille announced the winner.

We all waited with bated breath.

“The winners of today’s team-building exercise are ... Brandon and Holly!”

“Yes,” Holly shouted before throwing her arms around me.

Not thinking of the consequences, I enthusiastically embraced her and whispered in her ear, “You’re my soul Santa.” Yes, I had googled that one.

She let out a soft, melodic giggle, her body tilting slightly back, teasing me with a glimpse of her parted lips as she silently, and maybe unknowingly, invited me to savor the taste that awaited. Not able to resist any longer, I leaned in—just as Holly came to her senses, saving us from having to explain to our coworkers why we were kissing.

“We won.” She blushed deeply while tittering nervously as she gently pushed me away, her eyes darting across the room at all our coworkers, whose eyes were glued to us .

I had a feeling Holly was going to have some explaining to do in the bathroom.

I had some explaining to do too. Hopefully, it would lead to a merry Kiss-mas. Yes, I googled that one too.