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Declan took a deep breath and his flannel-covered chest rose with the force of it, as if he was calling upon every deity in the universe to give him strength. “Hell no.” His voice came out tight, straining through his teeth, and a flicker of guilt coursed through her before she beat it back. Holly liked to think of herself as a reasonable person who would have been more than happy to entertain his request had he approached her at any point in the last two years with a modicum of politeness. Instead, he was surly, insulting, and all around reminded her of the Beast when he invited Belle to dinner. If only there was a Cogsworth around to remind him to say please.
“Then I guess we’re at a stalemate and you should scurry on back to your hole of despair.”
“I don’t understand why you can’t be reasonable!”
“Because I find you rude, cantankerous, and overall unpleasant, and the last thing in the world I want is to give you any kind of satisfaction.” Declan opened his mouth, but before he could respond, she continued, “It’s not like I was blasting it.”
“The fact that I could hear it through the wall means it was too loud.”
“Is it the traditional Christmas carols you hate? Because I could probably find some heavy metal covers if you prefer. A little ‘Heavy Metal Christmas’?”
“Don’t make me dismantle your sound system again, Elf.”
Holly puffed up at his snide tone. Over the years there were plenty of people who mocked Holly for her online persona, but she let it roll off her back. But every time Declan snickered at her through that ridiculous soup catcher beard of his, she wanted to reach up and tug him by the hairs of his chinny-chin-chin until he begged for mercy.
“Go ahead, you petty, furry waste of oxygen, and I’ll get you when you least expect it!”
Holly closed the door in his face and locked it with a guttural, “Ugh, I really hate that guy.”
“Funny, I couldn’t tell,” Nick said, setting the price gun down on the shelf. “I’m going to get another box.”
“If you don’t like fighting with Declan, then why not do what he wants?” Merry asked.
Holly picked up the price gun and aggressively pressed the button. “Because it’s the principle.” She snatched a gnome off the shelf and swiped the price tag along the base, wishing the labels were just a little bigger. She’d use one to tape Declan’s mouth shut.
“Didn’t you tell me once fighting with Declan was like foreplay?”
Holly choked on a laugh. “While that sounds like me, I’ve changed my mind. Declan Gallagher makes me want to avoid the entire male species for as long as I live.”
CHAPTER 2
Declan Gallagher’s truck hugged the last few twists in the road before the Winters Christmas Tree Farm came into view on the right. The rolling hills of evergreens backed up to taller pines in the distance, and his tires crunched over the driveway as he parked south of the main house. He spotted Clark and his son Jace in the front yard with Chris Winters, heading for the gate that opened out of the white-picket-fenced yard. Clark had asked Declan to come out and help secure some Christmas decorations to the roof that had come off during the last winter storm they had.
It had been years since he’d been out to see the place and it still looked the same, except for a fresh coat of paint. Declan had come with his folks to the farm when he was a kid to pick out their tree, and the place always seemed a little magical, especially after it snowed.
Of course, he no longer thought that way. He was an adult and there was no such thing as magic or miracles. Life was a host of hardships and misery with a few sprinkles of happiness mixed in, and he’d go through it without any more expectations than that.
Man, maybe Holly had a point about him. Even lost in his thoughts, he was morose.
His hand flexed on the door handle at the thought of the youngest Winters sibling. God, she could make him absolutely insane. With her cheerful, upbeat personality and obnoxious love of the holidays, she’d been a menace on his calm from November until January the last two years.
Maybe he hadn’t handled things with any reasonable amount of charm, but Holly pushed all of his buttons, even the ones he didn’t know he had. When he’d stepped in to take care of his dad’s store, he hadn’t been ready for the bubbly redhead to pop in with a plate of cookies and a mouth that never stopped.
Declan remembered that warm day in September well. He’d barely unlocked the door when she burst through it, carrying a plate stacked with an assortment of treats.
“Hi, I’m Holly Winters. You’re Declan, right?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond before she scoffed, “Of course you are. You graduated with my sister Merry and haven’t changed much, except for the beard.” She set the plastic wrap-covered cookies on the counter. “You probably don’t remember me,” she continued, hardly missing a beat. “I was a sophomore when you were a senior, but I used to watch all your football games with my friends.”
He did remember Merry from high school, a bright, bubbly blond who seemed to get along with everyone. He’d played football because that’s what you did in a small town when you were six foot five and two hundred pounds, and while they’d run in the same crowd, they’d never been more than friendly acquaintances.
He hadn’t encountered the younger Winters daughter, though.
“Anyway, we’re neighbors. I run the holiday shop next door and I heard you’d taken over the store now that your dad’s retired. Thought I’d drop by and say hi.”
He hadn’t fully recovered from her rapid-fire introduction, but he managed a “Hello.”
She grinned in return. If he was the type of guy to use the term dazzling, it would have fit perfectly to describe her smile. “We share a wall, so I apologize in advance if my music is too loud. Too many concerts in my teens may have ruined my ear drums, but don’t tell my mother she was right or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“As long as it’s not cheesy Christmas music, we’ll be good.”
