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Erica giggled. “Good luck. At least he’s pretty to look at.”
Holly couldn’t disagree, but she didn’t respond before pushing out the door and trekking down the sidewalk to the front of Mistletoe Hardware. Their very first conversation two years ago had ended on a sour note and their interactions had only gone downhill from there. She’d thought maybe last year he’d softened a bit when he’d agreed to buy a tree for the Festival of Trees, Mistletoe’s biggest holiday fundraiser, but then he hadn’t done anything with it. Just left it in the back of his store without even a bucket of water. When she’d confronted him about it, Declan told her he bought the tree, fulfilling his social obligation, but if she wanted it decorated to do it herself, same as this year. Here she was feeling guilty about one little mistake on her part, but he’d made a series of jerk moves.
The difference is you two weren’t getting along when he hurt your feelings.
That little voice in her head was really starting to get annoying.
Now here she was, about to walk into the Grinch’s lair and hire him to decorate her house for Christmas. How could she even be sure he wouldn’t break her display or stall on purpose?
You’re paying him, not asking a favor. Stop being paranoid.
Holly opened the door and stepped through. There were only a couple of people milling around the store that she could see, while Declan sat behind the counter with a pencil in hand, leaning over something intently. When he finally glanced up and noticed her, he took whatever he was working on and slid it into a drawer.
“What do you need?” he asked coolly.
“I—” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for the painting. It was lovely. I thought I might have to fight my mother for it.”
Declan stood up straight, studying her with an inscrutable expression, the teasing, playful man from the week before gone. “You’re welcome. Was there something else?”
Why was this so painful to get out? “You may have had a point about me being a judgy jackhole. There’s no reason why you should have to love Christmas just because I do. I mean, you were more wrong, but…” Holly released a tense laugh. “Not the point.”
“Anything else?”
Anger lit through her and Holly almost stormed out, but Erica’s truth that she had more reasons than choices kept rolling through her mind like a mantra and Holly crossed the room to stand in front of the counter. “I know we’ve had our differences”—he snorted, and she pushed on without acknowledging it—“but I need to hire you.”
His eyebrows shot up comically. “For what?”
“To put together my holiday home display.”
Declan scoffed. “Yeah, right. Don’t you have a company who does that?”
“They cancelled on me and everyone else is booked up. You’re my last resort.”
“What makes you think I’m not overwhelmed with jobs?”
“Faith, hope, and pixie dust?” she quipped.
“Huh?”
Holly rolled her eyes. “I was paraphrasing Peter Pan. You really were deprived as a kid.”
“Judging again, Holly?”
Crap, get it together, Hol.
“No, of course not. Maybe you didn’t own a TV.”
“Just because I didn’t sit around watching movies my whole childhood doesn’t mean I was deprived,” he growled, and Holly threw her hands up.
“I didn’t come here to fight or insult you, honestly. Can we call a truce until our business is concluded?”
Declan leaned over the counter on his forearms and the sharp scent of cologne wrapped around her, spicy and delightful, and if he’d been anyone else she might have commented on it, but he’d probably think she was mocking him at this point. Her cheeks warmed thinking about how she’d mentioned how cute she thought he was.
Thought, past tense.
“I’ll bite,” he said, rubbing the side of his clean-shaven jaw. “How much are we talking?”
“I’ve paid twenty-five hundred in the past, but I’ll give you three.”
