Merrily in Love

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Merrily in Love Page 4

by Melissa West


  “I’m waiting.”

  “I’m answering.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it.”

  Kylie huffed and planted her hands on her hips again. “Are you going to let me talk or are we going to go around again?”

  The truth was Brady didn’t want her to talk. He wanted her out of his house so he could feel like himself again. “All right, I’m listening.”

  She drew a long breath and peered over her shoulder, then back, then over her shoulder again in a double-take. “Wow, is that your kitchen?” And then before he could ask her what she was doing or answer the question, she took off again, farther into his house and into his world. Each step felt like she was making a permanent impression there, like the house could relax now, knowing a female hand had returned. He wanted no part of any of it.

  “Where are you going now?”

  “To check out this fancy kitchen.” She ran a hand over the granite countertops. “God, this must have cost you a fortune.”

  The truth was it had cost him far more than he should have paid, and yet far less than the house was worth. But at the time, Zac and Charlie were setting up house and looking all responsible and adult-like, and he was what? Living in the same old apartment, partying with the same women, hitting up the same spots on Friday night. It all became too much. So he shut off that life and decided to settle down. Even if he had no one to settle down with, he could at least buy a nice house.

  “It was enough.”

  She grinned, and it was so like her that Brady forgot what he was going to say next. “Sounds like something you would say. Well, whoever she is, she has good taste.”

  “She does.” Once again their eyes met, and he couldn’t keep up the charade any longer. “The original owner was a builder. He built the house with his wife, every inch of it custom built and made for her. And then she died. He couldn’t bring himself to live here without her, so I bought it to save him the trouble.”

  For a moment, Kylie stared at him, her expression unreadable.

  “What?” Brady asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, looking away. But it was clear she was having thoughts about this, and once again, Brady wished she hadn’t come. He couldn’t think, couldn’t settle down. She had him on edge in his own house. He needed her to leave.

  “Why are you here, Kylie?” he asked, unable to hide the exhaustion in his voice. Being around her made it so hard to pretend that everything was okay. “I’m guessing it’s not to check out my kitchen.”

  “No…it’s not. I came here to offer you a compromise.” She swallowed, then eyed the Keurig on the counter. “Since when do you drink coffee?”

  “Since I started getting less than five hours of sleep a night. You were saying something about a compromise?”

  The rain had picked up outside, creating a peaceful melody. There was once a time when Brady would have considered it romantic, nothing but Kylie and him and the sound of rain. But those days had come and gone.

  “I came up with an idea that I think could work for both of us.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “So Franny can’t afford to keep the shop running as is. You know that and I know that, and she’s refusing to try to secure a loan that could tide her over. At the same time, she doesn’t want to sell, and I’m willing to do whatever I can to help her keep her shop.”

  Brady went over to the Keurig and pushed the button to turn it on, then pivoted back around and crossed his arms again. At Kylie’s raised eyebrows he said, “Thought we may need coffee for this. Unless you stopped drinking it.”

  “I’d rather stop breathing air.”

  A small smile cracked on his face before he could stop it, and Kylie offered her own in return. It was warm and honest, so unlike most of the women Brady knew. He bet Kylie didn’t own lipstick or lip gloss. God, he was in trouble.

  “Go on.”

  “Franny said you were wanting to buy the shop so you would have additional space for Southern Dive. So what if we agreed to split Franny’s? Of course, you would pay for half the shop now.”

  And now Brady’s smile was full out glowing. “You’re joking, right? What sense would it make for me to pay you for half of a dying business?”

  Kylie stared him down, her eyes fixed on his. “First off, it’s the building you want, not the business, so don’t talk to me like I’m clueless about this whole thing. I’m not. And second, Merrily Christmas isn’t just any business, and I would be willing to bet that it bothers you to take it from Franny. Forget all that happened between us. You cared about Franny. Likely still do. And you never hurt those you care about.”

  He almost said unlike you but managed to stop himself.

  “What do you say? Will you let us keep half of the shop?”

  Brady thought about the offer, what it would mean for him and his brothers. They would still have the space they needed for shipments, and even better, they could test out how much space they needed with less risk and investment. But there was no way he could allow Kylie to come to his house and get him to just accept what she was offering. Not after the way things ended with them.

  “Until Christmas.”

  A confused look crossed her face. “What’s until Christmas?”

  “I’ll buy half the business to give Franny—and you—an opportunity to increase business. But if you can’t, if the business is still in the red come December 25, then you agree to let me buy the remainder of the space at half what I pay now.”

  “What? Are you crazy? I’m not interested in giving away Franny’s building.”

  “And I’m not interested in charity.” Guilt punched him in the stomach the moment the word slipped from his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to show it. Not now. Not with Kylie here, messing up his life. “We will buy half now and the remainder at a fifty percent discount. Set a sales goal to include in the contract. I’ll even give you to the end of the year. If you succeed, then you get to maintain half the space. If not, it’s ours at fifty percent off. Take it or leave it.”

  Her teeth ground together, fire in her eyes, as she stepped up to him. Brady thought she might deck him, but instead, she held out her hand. “Fine. It’s a deal.”

  He slid his hand into hers and closed, and it was as though time stopped. No, like time rewound and they were teens again, his body numb, his heart full for the first time in forever. A tingly feeling spread from their hands, to his wrist, almost to his forearm, before he found the will to pull away.

  “I’ll have the papers drawn up and to you tomorrow,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

  Kylie nodded. “You do that.” Then she reached around Brady for one of the coffee cups he’d pulled from his cabinet, placed the cup in the correct spot of the Keurig, and hit the large size. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more—that she was making herself coffee in his house or that she knew he’d have a k-cup ready in the dispenser.

  The coffee finished brewing, tension igniting between them with each passing second. She pulled the mug away and drew in the aroma, a slow smile curling her lips. “I love the smell of coffee, don’t you?”

  “Want access to my fridge, too? Or better yet, why don’t you make yourself at home in my bed.” She flinched, and Brady grinned.

  “Nah, I take mine black now.” Then she started toward the door, an obvious sway to her step.

  “You’re welcome, by the way. And I expect you to return that cup,” he called, only to hear the click of his door closing in answer. And just like that, she’d gotten under his skin. Again.

  Chapter 4

  Kylie unlocked the back door of Merrily Christmas, humming the Christmas song she’d been listening to in her car.

  Franny had spent the last week training her on all the changes she’d implemented at the shop since Kylie had left. When Kylie worked there as a teen, purchases were made with cash and jotted
down in a spiral-bound order book. Now, Franny used some point-of-sale software that was linked to the credit card machine, the cash register, and maintained an inventory count. Adding new inventory was still a pain—double checking it against the packing slip, adding a marked up cost to it, then tagging it—but it was worth the effort on the back end.

  She pushed the door open with her back side, then edged inside, the cookie oven in one arm, a Keurig in the other, the two boxes sandwiched together, else one or the both would be on the ground by now.

  Her humming and good mood turned into song. “Jingle all the way, oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open—what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Brady turned slowly, a crooked grin on his face at the sight of her. He held one of her ornament boxes in his hands. “You never could carry a tune.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And you never could answer a direct question. I asked you what you were doing.”

  “Did you bring in my coffee cup this time or do I need to come to Franny’s to get it back?”

  “Again, avoiding the question.” The truth was Kylie loved that mug, and fully intended to keep it for the rest of her life. “And who are they?” she asked, pointing to two men carrying in a long, rectangular table.

  Brady called over to them. “Hold it. I need to move a few more of these boxes.” He dropped the box he’d been holding onto the floor and pushed it with his foot out of the way. Forget the fact that delicate was written all over the dang thing.

  Kylie’s jaw clenched tight. “I ask again, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Brady pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh, we have kids in the room,” he said, gesturing to the men, who Kylie now realized were teenagers. Though what kind of teenagers didn’t go to school on a Monday? Clearly, the kind who associated with Brady.

  “Answer the question.”

  He sighed. “If you must know, I’m moving in my packaging table.”

  “And who exactly approved you to do that? We agreed to split half the shop, not have you take whatever you want and move whatever you want. This is still my—I mean, Franny’s—shop.”

  They glared at one another. Tension radiated between them, sparking and rolling, until Kylie worried about Brady’s well-being, because she was seconds away from taking his head off.

  “Actually, Franny did. And as you mentioned, it’s her shop, not yours. She said I could take this side of the stockroom. So here I am. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Yes. Yes, she had a major problem with it. With all of this. But what could she say?

  “From now on, you need to pass any requests by me before doing them. I handle our inventory and the stockroom. If I can’t find something, it presents a problem when I’m restocking things.”

  Brady cocked his head, thought for a moment, then shook it in disagreement. “Nah, I don’t think so. I’m not a tenant of yours. I’m half owner of this building, or did you not receive the paperwork?”

  She rolled back on her heels at the blow. Of course she had received the paperwork, and she read every single page word for word. Somehow she’d hoped to find the words JUST KIDDING at the end and this whole thing would be a dream. The idea of working day in and day out with the man who’d single-handedly shattered her heart years ago was enough to make her contemplate setting up an appointment with Dr. Shattles, Crestler’s Key’s one and only therapist.

  With new resolve, she drew a breath and set down the cookie oven and Keurig, then drew another breath and pivoted slowly. She marched over to Brady and lifted her chin. “Listen and listen good. I make the rules here, not you. I have a system in here. I’m happy to share the space with you, but I have to move things in an organized manner first. Either that works for you or it doesn’t. I haven’t signed those papers you gave me yet, and neither has Franny, so if this doesn’t work for you, then I am happy to tear them up and figure things out on my own. Wouldn’t be the first time,” she added under her breath, and Brady swallowed hard.

  He opened his mouth to reply when Franny walked in from the front of the shop, a stern look on her face directed at both of them. “Now listen, you two, this can be easy or it can be hard, and since my name is still the only name on this building, neither of yours, we’re going to do things my way. The easy way. Brady—you get the right half of the stockroom and the right half of the store. Do what you please there, but we would appreciate it if you gave us an opportunity to move our own things. Somehow I doubt you’ll use the same care we would.” Her eyes fell to the stack of boxes beside him, each box stacked haphazardly. It looked like a gust of wind could knock the whole stack over.

  “Right. No problem, Ms. Franny. Anything you ask.”

  Kylie tsked. “Anything she asks, so me asking isn’t enough for you, right?”

  “And you,” Franny said, cutting her off and pointing at her goddaughter. “None of this over-the-top, OCD mess. Move things and organize as best you can, but our space was just cut in half. You’ll have to improvise, which I’m sure you can do. And if you need an extra set of muscles when moving things around, I’m sure Brady here is happy to help.”

  “Happy to offer my muscles to you any time you need them,” he said with a grin.

  Kylie crossed her arms and shot daggers at her ex. “Yeah, I don’t think so. I don’t need your help.”

  “Typical,” Brady murmured under his breath.

  Franny grinned over at them, said something like “Some things never change,” then disappeared back into the front of the shop. The two teenagers were still holding the table, and Kylie felt like a jerk. “Put that down wherever. I’ll get the rest out of the way.” She brushed the dust from her hands onto her jeans and then went over, careful to avoid Brady’s stare, grabbed a box, and edged back around the table. She made her way over to her own long rectangular table, hers a place to make wreaths and other decor that customers could buy. She set down the box, then turned to go for another, only to find Brady picking up two and following after her. Their eyes locked, and a flurry erupted in her stomach before she could suppress it.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  He set the boxes down beside her first box and then stared down at her. They were two feet apart, yet it felt like mere inches separated them. He was too close. Far too close.

  “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

  Their eyes met again, then one of the teens called to Brady and he cleared his throat before turning away to see what he needed. Kylie took the opportunity to draw a long, much-needed breath.

  What was that? Certainly not feelings. There could be, would be, no feelings here. What she needed was to focus…and stay far, far away from her ex until her heart remembered that she was over him. Way, way, way over him.

  She peeked over her shoulder, took in the way his T-shirt stretched across the contours of his back, the way his jeans hugged his—

  Brady spun around at that moment, and Kylie jerked back, her hand colliding with the box she’d just set on the table and narrowly knocking it onto the floor had she not grabbed it.

  “You all right?” he called out.

  “Who me?” Kylie fumbled with the box, her hands shaking now. Then she grinned over at him, before trying to steady the box and in turn almost pushing another off the table. Because clearly she’d forgotten how to function. “Yep, perfect. Just need to…” She pointed to the door to the front of the store, and then disappeared through it before he could ask anything else. Or she could do anything else to let on just how rattled she felt.

  “You all right?” Franny asked.

  “Yes, why do people keep asking me that?”

  Franny’s eyebrows lifted. “Maybe because you’re speaking in shrill.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are. Ally will tell you.”

  “Who?”

  Franny pointed to the
register, where a young woman stood staring between them like she wasn’t sure whether she should speak or keep quiet.

  “Tell her, Ally.”

  Ally’s face shifted from surprise to fear before finally she released a breath and shook her head. “Girl, I could hear you from outside before I came in.” Then the fear returned. “Please don’t fire me.”

  Franny laughed. “Kylie meet Ally, our new part-time help for the holiday season. Ally meet Kylie, my goddaughter, who has officially named herself shop manager. I’m going down to AJ&P for some breakfast. I’ll let you two get acquainted.”

  Franny grinned like she’d just made the biggest joke in the world, and Kylie got the feeling that despite what Kylie felt was a reality, Franny would always be the true manager of Merrily Christmas.

  “Hi, sorry about that,” she said to the new hire. “I swear I’m not crazy or anything.”

  “Debatable.”

  Gritting her teeth, she peered over her shoulder to find Brady smiling at her from the other side of the room. She hadn’t heard him come out from the back, which meant he had heard the entire exchange with Franny. Fantastic.

  “No one was talking to you.” She focused back on Ally, prepared to do a formal introduction, when Brady’s laughter cut through again.

  Kylie closed her eyes. “Deep breath. Deep, long breath.” She opened her eyes to find Ally smiling sympathetically at her. “Franny told you.”

  “A bit,” she said with a shrug. “I can’t imagine it’s easy.”

  The store was open now and a few shoppers had come in, which meant Kylie would need to watch the shrillness. “No, but enough about my drama. Is this your first time working here or have you worked the season before?”

  Ally laughed. “Nah, I’m well versed in the crazy here. I try to help every holiday season as I can. I’m a mom of a precious five-year-old, so I can only work part time. But honestly, I love it. I love the way people light up when they come in here. It reminds me that there’s a point to the season, ya know? Not just all the insanity. I think people want to go somewhere that feels magical. Give them magic, and they’ll come again and again.”

 

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