Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
A look that had lingered just long enough to make me think about it later. In the shower.
I added the scarf and my new boots and styled my hair with less product than usual, going for a more touchable look that would work with the casual vibe of a Christmas tree farm.
“Stay luxe,” I reminded myself with a mental eye roll. Nordique’s unnecessary instruction echoed in my mind as I assessed the final look in the mirror. The outfit walked the line perfectly—upscale enough for the brand positioning but practical enough for a winter outing.
The Pinecone was already bustling when I arrived at 8:55. I’d intentionally come early, partly to avoid another “you’re late” lecture from Maddox, but mostly to prepare myself mentally for spending the day with him. I needed coffee and a game plan.
Sadie spotted me as soon as I walked in and waved me to “my” table—apparently, I now had a designated spot as well as a “usual” breakfast. Small towns were weird.
She returned moments later with a steaming mug of coffee, oat milk creamer, and, to my surprise, a plate covered in an omelette with a side of fruit. “Figured you’d want something a little lighter today. Your special someone likes his eggs over medium. Should I get that going?”
I nearly choked on my first sip of coffee. “My— Sadie, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea. Maddox isn’t my ‘special someone.’ We’re colleagues. Working together.”
Sadie’s knowing smile didn’t falter. “Sure, honey.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that but was saved by the bell—literally—as the door jingled and Maddox himself walked in. His expression darkened considerably when he noticed how many people were watching him walk toward me.
“Morning,” he said tersely, yanking off his coat.
“Welcome to the gauntlet,” I murmured. “Maybe we should have met somewhere else.”
“Everywhere would have been the same.” Maddox dropped into the chair across from me. “This town’s gossip network works faster than Instagram’s algorithm.”
As he settled in his seat, he eyed my outfit with a critical gaze that lingered just long enough to make my skin warm. “That’s what you’re wearing to cut down a Christmas tree?”
I glanced down at my carefully chosen ensemble. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing, if you’re attending a board meeting in Aspen. Everything, if you’re actually planning to drag a tree through the snow.” His tone was mocking, but his eyes traveled up and down my sweater again before he picked up his coffee.
“It’s Nordique’s premium collection,” I explained. “The whole point is luxury that functions in winter settings. ‘Where luxury meets legacy,’ remember?”
His eyes rolled so hard I was surprised they didn’t get stuck. “Don’t come crying to me when you get sap on your thousand-dollar pants.”
“They’re only four hundred,” I corrected, then immediately regretted it when his eyebrows shot up.
“Only four hundred,” he repeated flatly. “For pants. That you’re wearing to a tree farm.”
“I didn’t pay for them, Maddox. But it’s my job to make them look good in rugged settings,” I defended. “That’s literally why I’m here.”
Something flashed in his eyes—maybe annoyance, maybe something else—before he looked away. “You might have considered warning your date this was a luxury tree-cutting adventure.”
“My date can dress himself however he likes,” I shot back, unable to resist a small smirk. “Unless you’d like me to dress you, Maddox?”
“Fucking Christ,” he muttered under his breath. His voice dropped low on the curse, and it hit me in the solar plexus.
Was a grumpiness kink a thing?
As Sadie approached with a tray, Maddox’s face lit up. “Morning, Sadie. I could kiss you right now for that.”
Sadie set down his coffee and breakfast—eggs over medium, as predicted, with sourdough toast and a side of bacon. Then she glanced back and forth between us with a knowing look that made Maddox’s ears turn pink. “Kiss me? I don’t think so.”
“Uh. I think we’re good here for now,” I said quickly before Maddox simply got up and stormed out.
She sighed happily. “You sure are. You two enjoy,” she said with meaning so thick you could spread it on toast. “Take your time.”
As she walked away, Maddox stabbed a piece of egg with unnecessary force. “Great. By dinner, half the town will think we’re engaged.”
“Would that be so terrible?” I asked lightly, trying to keep the conversation from derailing into his usual grumpiness. “Being engaged?”
His fork paused halfway to his mouth, eyes locking with mine in a way that made my breath catch. For a moment—just a moment—something vulnerable and yearning crossed his face.
Then it was gone, replaced by a teasing eye roll. “Engaged in general? Not terrible at all. Engaged to a man who wears budgie smugglers for a living? Terrible doesn’t begin to cover it.”
I laughed, putting a hand to my chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Sullivan. And here I thought we had something special. My business manager thinks so, too, not to mention half the damned internet.”