Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
He held his hands out in front of him. “I know how you feel.”
“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, you look content as ever.”
“I’m not the enemy here, Elle.”
“Really?” I mocked. “I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell don’t know how to see you as anything other than my ex-best friend, who turned his back on me without a second glance.”
“I know you may think that, but it’s not the truth.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know that you’re as pissed as I am right now.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Trust me,” he stressed. “I am.”
“Trust you?” I exclaimed. “Now those are fighting words, Nicholas Saint Clair.”
In the sincerest tone, he expressed, “I am truly sorry.”
“Save those lies for someone who cares.”
“At one point, you did.”
“I was young and naive and didn’t know any better. You were the first boy to ever pay attention to me. It was easy to fall for all your lies.”
“They weren’t lies.”
I beg to differ…
NICHOLAS
I couldn’t help myself. Not with the way I left things. I never wanted to hurt her, at least not like that. Noelle was the only girl who ever meant something to me. Granted, we were young back then, but even now, having her this close to me for the first time in what felt like an eternity, it was as if no time had passed between us.
The spark.
Our instant connection.
It was still there.
Despite her pretending it wasn’t, she couldn’t fool me. Not for one second.
Reading my mind like I knew she would, she acknowledged, “You have no right to say that to me.”
“I have all the right in the world to tell you how I feel. You wanted the truth, so here it is.”
Her chest rose and fell with each word I confessed. “You always knew how to say the right things.”
The door opening behind us wasn’t enough to break our connection. Neither one of us moved.
“Good.” Mr. Perkins walked in.
He was my grandfather’s right-hand man. His voice echoed off the windows and walls. “You’re not wasting any time getting reacquainted.”
I peered over my shoulder. “We need another minute.”
He nodded, grinning like a fool, and left.
My eyes met hers once again. “I hate that it has to be like this between us. Tell me what I can do to make this better.”
“Nothing you can do will make this better between us. You betrayed me.”
“Come on, give me some credit,” I tried to reason. “That’s not what happened.”
“This is a nightmare,” she snapped, shaking her head at me. “You’ll say anything to get what you want.”
“Well…” I smiled before I spoke from experience, “You know what they say—your best dreams and your worst nightmares usually have the same people in them.”
We stood there for a few seconds. My inquisitive regard didn’t falter. Although her eyes didn’t move from my face, I still felt her stare on every inch of my body. So much so that she was the first to look away.
Bowing her head for a moment, she swept a strand of her hair behind her ear, trying to break the tension between us.
Unable to remain silent any longer, she questioned, “Where do we start with our tour?”
She never expected me to reply, “How about in my bed?”
Her mouth dropped open, and I laughed. “Oh, Elle, you should have seen your face! You’re still too easy to tease.”
My grandfather once told me that the Saint Clair men teased their women, and I never forgot that. I’d often catch myself doing it without even realizing it with Noelle. I guess old habits die hard. Our friendship was the only thing that made me happy as a kid. From that first day we met in the library, I was enamored with her.
She was easy to talk to, and everything came naturally between us. Our dynamic always bordered on best friends with casual flirting with a side of sexual tension and the possibility of mixed emotions. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like her. I did. I liked her a lot, and that hadn’t changed, which wasn’t surprising to me in the least.
Elle had this ability to take me out of myself. She always saw the good in me no matter what. Growing up, I was the prodigal grandchild and rebelled because of it. My entire family was obsessed with everything and anything related to Christmas. It had been that way since before I was born. Something about my great ancestors being traced back to Saint Nicholas, hence my name. Hopefully, this made you understand the legacy I had to live up to.
Except I had always been different…
Bah fucking humbug.
Where my family loved Christmas, I hated it—always had, always would. From the gaudy trees to the over-the-top decorations and the traditions everyone clung to like they were sacred.
Particularly my family.
Now, I’m stuck running this Christmas-possessed town with an avalanche of memories I spent thirteen years trying to forget.