Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
I like it so much, that I continue to suffer from Cousin Betraying Amnesia until Leo pulls back to gaze into my no-doubt kiss-stunned face and says, “We should probably talk about Vivian. Shouldn’t we?”
six
. . .
Leo
Damn it.
I don’t want to talk about Vivian.
I don’t want to think about Vivian. I’d be happy to forget Vivian ever existed, in fact, and devote myself to worshiping Caroline Cane’s body full time, but her big blue eyes are already filling with horror.
“You knew?” she wheezes.
I exhale. “Not at first, no. But once I had time to think about it, I put the pieces together. What about you? When did you connect the dots? Before or after you signed a production contract with my company? If it was before, can we agree that ruining my show isn’t in either of our best interests? We both stand to lose a lot of time and money.”
“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” she whispers, her gaze cutting to our left before returning to my face. “Somewhere my ex-boyfriend isn’t staring at us and crying?”
I glance toward the picked-over Christmas tree stand, surprised to see her hometown honey swiping at his face with his big fists. Beside him, the brunette in the elf costume is rolling her eyes hard enough that her head is getting involved.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters. “You’ve been talking about breaking up with her for four months! I thought this is what you wanted.”
“I thought I did,” Chris says with a sniff. “But seeing her with someone else…” His focus sharpens on Caroline’s face, desperation flashing in his eyes. “Candy, please, this isn’t who we are. We aren’t big city people, and we won’t ever be happy with big city people. Let’s forget this happened, get the eight o’clock train back home, and make it official, okay?”
Caroline clears her throat. “Um…what?”
“I’m ready to propose!” The Rockette backs away from him with a disgusted sound as he drops to one knee, his arms outstretched. “I shouldn’t have kept you waiting for two years, baby. I’m so sorry. That’s my fault. I understand why you felt tempted by some big city jerk. But I can forgive you, and we can move on like it never happened. I promise. I know we’ll be so happy.”
“Wow,” Caroline says flatly. “That’s decent of you, Chris, but I meant what I said. I’m not attracted to you.”
I wince at the bluntness, but he deserves it.
More than deserves it.
“I don’t want to be your girlfriend,” she continues, “let alone your wife. And I did nothing that requires your forgiveness.” She hooks a thumb my way. “That was the first time I’ve ever kissed this man.”
“B-but you said,” he stammers.
“I was lying to make you jealous,” she says. “Nothing happened in the igloo.”
His jaw drops, his expression frozen in shock for a beat before his features twist with anger. “That’s not cool, Candy. Lying isn’t cool.”
“I know, and that’s why I never do it,” she says, a fact I find comforting after my experience with her cousin. “But this time, I’m really glad I did. You deserved a dose of your own medicine. You’ve been lying to me since August. August, Chris! And exit tension dread…” She shakes her head. “I can’t even. We are so not meant to be.” She laughs, a light, easy sound, I know would make me feel lousy if I were in Chris’s shoes.
Which is great. I hope he kicks his own ass all the way back to Vermont. It’s no less than he deserves for being a cheating sack of shit.
“Seriously, Chris,” Caroline says with a shake of her head. “Go home. Read a book. Take several long looks in the mirror and think about where this went wrong.” She narrows her eyes. “And stay away from my inn. You’re not welcome at happy hour and the hot tub is no longer available for your complimentary use.”
“But my back!” Chris bleats, clutching at his spine as he staggers to his feet. “I need the heat for my back. The bathtub at the farm isn’t big enough. I’m a big guy.”
“Oh, shut up,” the Rockette says, pulling a handful of needles off a nearby tree and tossing them at his face. “I thought country boys were supposed to be loyal sweethearts who taught city girls the true meaning of Christmas, not dirty, two-timing liars. I mean, your middle name is literally ‘Christmas.’ You should suck less.”
“He really should,” Caroline agrees. “His parents are lovely and raised him right. He has no excuse.”
His face beat red, Chris flashes both women a heated look before turning to charge through the remaining trees, out onto the open dock at the back of the expo center, where the other vendors are loading up their things.
“Well, that was a bust,” the Rockette says with a sigh. Glancing Caroline’s way, she adds, “I’m sorry about helping him cheat. He had me convinced you were like Mr. Rochester’s wife in Jane Eyre, some madwoman in the attic he had to stay with, or you’d wander into the mountains in a fit of mental illness and be eaten by bears.” She emits a short, sharp laugh. “I should have known better. Men always lie.”