by Emma Hart
It was no mean feat, let me tell you.
I offered her my arm, and she took it. I assumed it was gratefully, but you never could tell with the elderly.
At least not the elderly in White Peak.
I didn’t know if they were grateful for anything at all.
“Oh, Mabel is at those darn ducks again,” Rosie said as we stepped out of the elevator. “Stupid noisy things. Always waking me up from my nap.”
“Should I ask about the ducks?”
“Nobody should,” said another voice from behind.
Rosie wrinkled her face up. “Go away, Hagatha.”
“Who’s this?” the other woman asked, sizing me up as I turned around. “He’s handsome.”
“Amos’ grandson,” Rosie answered, somewhat reluctantly.
“He has a nice backside.”
And I was done here for today.
“Well, Mrs. Stuart,” I said, extracting Rosie’s hand from the crook of my arm. “Thank you for helping me find my way out. You ladies have a nice day.”
I inclined my head in their direction and removed myself from the situation before it went any further. I didn’t know who ‘Hagatha’ was but being eyed up by a pensioner wasn’t exactly in my plans for the day.
What was in my plans was finding a way to make Holley talk to me again.
I couldn’t fucking believe she was still mad at me. Yes, what I’d done was a shitty thing, but I hadn’t meant to do it.
And I would have told her that yesterday if she’d let me finish before she’d gone on her tirade about my usage of the word ‘but.’ However correct she was about it.
I blew out a breath and stepped out into the cooler air. The retirement home was about fifteen degrees too hot for my liking—yet another reason I couldn’t live with my grandfather—so the colder November air was a relief.
I got into my truck and started the engine. I’d only been cleared to drive for around a week, but I was so glad to have my freedom back. To have it back in my hometown was a blessing.
My entire life had been turned upside down thanks to my injury. Coming home had made this more bearable for me.
It was just a shame I’d come home ten years sooner than I’d planned.
I pulled away from the retirement home and headed in the direction of town. Since I’d seen my doctor this morning then had an appointment with my physical therapist, I was dressed in clothes fit for a workout and needed a walk to clear my head.
I wasn’t sure I’d think about much except for the mess that was my life or Holley Stuart, but a walk up to Peak Place was called for.
I pulled up behind the ice cream place and grabbed a beanie from the passenger seat. It was emblazoned with the logo of my team, and I pulled it over my head so it covered my ears, then got out.
There was only one other car in the parking lot. I gave it a glance as I headed for the trail that would lead me up to Peak Place, then quickly checked my phone. I only had a message from my sister reminding me that I had my final suit fitting at four-thirty this afternoon, but it was barely after lunch, so I had plenty of time to take my walk, shower, and head to the tailor to get it done.
I responded that I wouldn’t forget and made my way to the trail start. Her wedding was one week today, and my entire family was walking on eggshells. She’d been planning this day officially for two years, unofficially for the last twenty-five, and the only person she hadn’t yelled at was me.
That was what happened when you paid for your sister’s dream wedding venue.
A venue I knew would be dusted in snow this weekend since it was halfway up a mountain.
I shivered just thinking about it.
Not to mention that I was in desperate need of a date.
It wasn’t like I was short of options. I was, by all accounts, pretty damn good looking. I was also a rich baseball player, and that apparently worked in my favor.
The only problem was that all the options saw that.
The rich baseball player.
That, and I didn’t want to take any of those women to my sister’s wedding.
And the one woman I wanted to ask had, twenty-four hours ago, threatened to tear my rotator cuff again.
I was also pretty certain she never wanted to see me again.
If that wasn’t the making of a good date, I didn’t know what was.
Ever since our senior prom, my one regret was that I’d never sat Holley down and spoken to her. Back then, we were nothing more than kids. Sure, at eighteen, we thought we knew everything and could never be wrong.
Ironically, we couldn’t have been more wrong.
After that night, when she’d caught me kissing her high school bully, I’d left her alone. She’d demanded that I didn’t go near her and ordered me to never speak to her again, and I’d listened to her.
Eighteen-year-old Sebastian had done exactly what she wanted, thinking she’d come around. I’d thought I was doing the right thing by respecting her wishes and giving her the space she so obviously needed after I’d hurt her.
Twenty-seven-year-old Sebastian regretted every moment of that.
I wish I’d had the confidence to make her listen. I wish I’d had the sense of self to sit her down and tell her what I needed to tell her even without caring whether she wanted to hear it or not.
Now, for the first time in years, I had the chance to make it right.
I was home for long enough that I could bug the shit out of Holley until she did just that—listened to me and learned the truth about that awful fucking night.
Until she learned that thanks to the darkness of that room and two red dresses that were barely discernible from one another, I was on the other side of a severe case of mistaken identity.
That, that night, I hadn’t meant to kiss Iris.
I’d meant to kiss Holley.
CHAPTER FOUR – HOLLEY
rule four: at least try to make it believable. flowers help.
“Damn. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
I jerked my head up from where I was marking up books for the new book club. “What?”
Saylor was standing in the doorway, her scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face, and she cocked her thumb over her shoulder. “You mean you haven’t seen the huge bunch of flowers out here on the sidewalk?”
I frowned. “What flowers?”
She rolled her eyes, an action that seemed to accentuate her winged liner that made me green with jealousy, and then wedged the doorstop under the door.
Brrr.
I wished she hadn’t. It was one degree from freezing out there, and I’d spent all morning warming this old store up.
Wasn’t that a waste of our money?
“These flowers.”
My eyes bugged as she hauled a bouquet through the door. It was bigger than both our heads put together, and it was a gorgeous mix of red and white roses interspersed with greenery and sprigs of baby’s breath. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen in my life, and my stomach plummeted so quickly I think it fell through my feet and disappeared into the center of the Earth.
“Ooh, there’s a card!” Saylor sang, setting the flowers down on the table next to the books I’d been setting aside. “Oooooh!”
I didn’t want to ask it, but apparently, my mouth wasn’t listening to my brain. “What?”
Her head popped out from the side of it, and she grinned, her cheeks rosy from the cold now that her scarf had fallen down. “You’re not gonna like thiiiiiiiiis,” she continued in her little sing-song voice.
“Saylor!”
““To Holley,”” she read, plucking the card from the bouquet. ““I really am sorry. No buts this time. Can we talk? Love, Seb.””
“No.” I turned back to the books and slipped a question card from the publisher into the front of one.
“Uh, are you blind?” She pushed the flowers closer to me. “Have you seen these? Hols, there are about two-dozen red roses in here. Do you
know how much those things cost?”
“I don’t care,” I said calmly, putting another question card in the next book. “If he’s trying to get me to come around, flashing money left, right, and center isn’t the way to do it.”
“White roses are your favorite.”
“I don’t care.”
“Holley.”
“No, Saylor.” I scooped up the eight romance novels and carried them over the register, away from the frustratingly beautiful bouquet of flowers. I put them down next to the tissue paper I intended to wrap them in and looked at her. “That’s just… just… stuff.”
She stroked the petals of one of the roses. “Beautiful stuff.”
“Beautiful stuff,” I admitted. “And it’s very nice, but one bunch of flowers isn’t going to suddenly make me forget everything that happened.”
“Has anyone told you that you’re being completely pathetic about this?”
“No, but thank you for your opinion.”
“It’s not an opinion,” she said, shrugging off her jacket. “It’s cold, hard facts. You are. You’re being ridiculous and childish, and the least you can do is hear him out.”
I tore a piece of tape from the dispenser and slapped it down onto the book I’d just wrapped. “Is it.” I said it so flatly that it wasn’t even a question anymore.
“Yes. He’s clearly trying to make things right with you. Can’t you even give him five minutes?”
“Whose side are you on here? You’re supposed to be my best friend!”
“I’m always on your side.” She held out her hands, raising her eyebrows, then shrugged. “Unless you’re being a dumbass bitch, then I’m on the other side.”
“Ugh.”
“Hey. That’s how you know I’m a good friend.”
“How exactly is that?”
She hung her coat up. “Because a good friend isn’t afraid to call you on your bullshit. And you, my friend, are full of it.”
“Seems like I’m interrupting a therapy session.”
I looked at Sebastian, who was now standing in the open doorway, then at Saylor. “Why didn’t you close that?”
“Because I don’t possess the power of telekinesis?” she replied.
I turned back to Sebastian. “Sorry. We’re closed. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
“Holley!”
“What?”
Saylor stalked over to the door, kicked the door wedge away, and shut the door. “There. Now we’re closed with him inside.”
“I’m going to murder you while you sleep.”
“Try to wear gloves so you don’t leave any evidence.”
“Oh, no. I want people to know it was me.” I glared at her.
Sebastian’s lips twitched to one side. “I see some things really don’t change.”
Saylor snorted. “You could say that. What’s up?”
“I was in town and thought I’d stop by.” He glanced at me.
“You wanted to see if I got the flowers,” I said, wrapping another book without looking at him. “As you can see, I did. You can’t really miss them.”
“You’re so rude,” Saylor interrupted.
Sebastian fought a smile, ignoring her. “Good. That was the point.”
Swallowing, I forced myself to look up. “Thank you. They’re lovely.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But I still don’t want to talk to you.”
“You’re a child,” Saylor muttered.
“Do you mind?” I snapped.
She grinned, leaning against the side of a bookcase. “No. Not at all.”
Sebastian looked between the two of us. “Two minutes, Holley. Please?”
I stared at him, a piece of tape flapping on the end of my finger.
He drew a cross over his heart. “Then I’ll leave.”
Let’s be honest: it wasn’t like I had a choice. He was going to stand here regardless, and the last thing I needed was the pink-haired peanut gallery over there to witness every last second.
“Fine.” I walked out from behind the counter. “Two minutes, then if you don’t leave, I’m going to drag you out of here.”
His grin made all kinds of butterflies erupt in my stomach.
Goddamn it.
This was a terrible idea.
I beckoned for him to follow me to the back room, and when I caught Saylor craning her neck, I glared at her and said, “You can finish wrapping those books, or I’m going to tell Margaret you’re going to take them to her.”
That wiped the smile off her face.
Boy, I hoped she didn’t get bored of trying to marry Saylor off anytime soon.
Sebastian followed me into the storeroom. “She’s still as nosy as ever.”
“Mm.” I still had the bit of tape on my finger. I flapped it through the air as if that would dislodge it, then stuck it on the edge of a shelf filled with autobiographies that needed to be restocked. “Two minutes.”
“I’m glad you liked the flowers.”
“Really? You brought me back here to say that?”
“No. I just thought it was a good place to start. I’m actually wondering if anyone can explain the ducks,” he said slowly, a frown marring his brow.
He did not bring me back here to talk about the ducks.
I folded my arms across my chest.
“My grandpa has been sending me photos of them in bow ties and bonnets all morning, and I’m confused.”
“No. Nobody can explain the ducks. We really don’t know what’s going on.” I paused. “But it does get worse when you hear their names.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Their names? They named them?”
“Oh, yeah. And they’re all puns.”
“Seriously?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” I kept my face expressionless. “Those ducks are a nightmare. Quackie Chan haunts me.”
He fought a laugh. “Did you just say Quackie Chan?”
“Mm.” I leaned against the shelving unit and looked at him. “But you didn’t bring me back here to talk about ducks,” I said. “What do you really want?”
“All right, you got me.” He held up his hands, then ran one through his messy black curls.
They were all shiny and unruly, and a flash of desire to have it be my hand running through them shot through me.
Whoa.
That could back the fuck up to Nopeland.
When he didn’t say anything, I raised my eyebrows in question.
He rolled his shoulders and winced. A hint of pain flashed through his eyes, but he brushed it off before meeting my eyes again. “Kate’s getting married this weekend.”
“I thought it was just before Thanksgiving.”
“On the save the date cards it was, but they settled on this weekend.”
“Oh, right.” Josh must have been wrong then.
“I need a date.”
“It’s the fourth of November.”
He fought a smile. “No. To the wedding.”
I blinked at him. He wasn’t—no. He wasn’t asking me, was he?
Surely not.
“Come with me? Not to the ceremony, just the after party.”
He’s lost his fucking mind.
“Are you insane?” I asked, staring at him. “I don’t want to talk to you, much less be your date to a wedding!”
“Oh, come on. It’s only a couple of hours, and if I go alone, I’m going to have to put up with all my elderly relatives trying to marry me off.”
“Absolutely not.”
“All right, I wasn’t going to bring this up, but…”
Oh, no.
He isn’t going there, is he?
“That doesn’t count!” I jerked my finger in his direction. “Don’t you dare bring that up!”
“You promised me you’d be my date if I ever needed one.”
“We were thirteen! And I liked you then. We were friends. We most definitely are not friends now.”
He shrugged, shoving his ha
nds in his pockets, but he wasn’t even trying to hide the smile on his lips. “You promised.”
“I also promised you that we’d get married if we were both single at thirty,” I said dryly. “But that’s not happening either.”
“It’s not?”
“No. I’d rather die old and alone with twenty cats and let them eat me.”
“You have an alarming imagination. Do you know that?”
“You have an alarming audacity to walk in here with a dumbass promise made by two kids and expect me to go to your sister’s wedding with you.”
“I know.” He grinned. “At least I can admit it.”
“I’m not doing it.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No. You’ve had more than two minutes. You can leave now.”
“Holley…”
I turned back from where I’d started walking away. “No.”
He grinned. “Yes.”
“No.”
“Okay, fine, no.”
“Yes.”
“Ha!” He darted forward until he was right in front of me. “You just said yes.”
I opened my mouth and a big fat freaking nothing came out of it.
I hadn’t, had I?
I had.
I’d said yes, because he’d tricked me into it.
“That’s not fair!” I squeaked. “You tricked me!”
“You still said yes.” He stepped back toward the storeroom door. “No backsies.”
“No backsies?” I followed him through back into the store. “How old are you? Seven? And that doesn’t count!”
“It counts.”
“It does not count!”
“What doesn’t count?” Saylor asked, looking between us. She had a piece of tape stuck to her cheek. Somehow.
Sebastian looked at her. “She said yes to going to my sister’s wedding with me and is now saying she didn’t.”
“You tricked me!” I pointed at him and looked at Saylor. “He tricked me!”
She looked at me, unbothered. Honestly, she was a pink Wednesday Addams.
“Did you say yes?” she asked.
“Yes, but—”
“Then you said yes.”
“But—”
Sebastian tutted. “No buts. You just said you said yes. Looks like you’re stuck with me on Saturday night.”