The Broody Brit for Christmas (Holiday Springs #1) - M.J. Fields Page 0,2

maybe in spite of myself, remembering the day’s highlight.

I unwrap my tenth orange-foiled wrapper and pop the creamy caramel coated in our homemade dark chocolate—with a hint of pumpkin flavor mixed in to add a seasonal flair—into my mouth as I imagine myself all but screaming at the kid in the pale blue Polo shirt for stealing a Jolly Rancher from the bulk candy bins in the back.

He reeked of family money, and his actions proved that he felt as entitled as all the others I had left behind. From his perfect wavy chocolate brown hair, that looked like silk, to his leather loafers that did not even a scuff mark on them. Well, I decided that maybe this kid needed to be put in his place. I decided that perhaps I could teach him a lesson that his absent parents clearly hadn't thought to teach him. You know, kind of scare him straight, because he certainly wouldn't be getting away with it, not in my family's store and definitely not on my watch.

“Hey! Did you just steal a candy?”

He jumped, startled as I hopped off the stool behind the register and made my way to the entitled little prince who was hiding behind the bulk section, my arms crossed over my chest. To think that the place I once grew up in, filled with hard-working people, is now becoming infested by millionaires. I left New York City to free myself of that nonsense only to find it now spreading here.

He pressed his lips together. “Nnnnn.” He shook his head, waves flopping in front of his eyes. God, but his mom must be a model. His picture-perfect face only infuriated me more.

“No?” I questioned; my voice full of New York City attitude. I may not have been able to convince Townes’ mother that I could be just as tough and manipulative as she was, but I was sure I could pull something off now. “Open your mouth.”

His brown eyes bulged out, and I leaned in closer to him. “Now.”

Before opening his mouth, revealing the evidence to his guilt—a blue-stained mouth—he told me, “My dad will pay for it. I swear! I just needed a snack before meeting my aunt. And I forgot to take money when I—”

I stomped my foot on the floor, silencing him. “Enough.” Inhaling and exhaling for effect, I let my eyes glower. “How old are you?”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven? By the time I was your age, I had already worked in this same candy store for $5.00 an hour.” I pointed to the battered wooden floor beneath our feet. “And do you know why?” Before he could say a word, I continued— “I’ll tell you why! Because life is about hard work and dedication. Life is about growing something and taking care of it. Life is not about running behind your mommy to pay your debts or getting rid of your fiancée because she wasn’t born to wealth and fame!”

He looked at me with confusion. “It was just a small piece—”

I laughed loudly, shutting him up. “It’s not some small piece of candy! This is life we’re talking about. And that candy was bought and paid for by me. Each piece gets sold so that I can eat. Are you trying to starve me?”

“No, ma’am.”

I stepped closer.

He stuttered, “I mean, y-yes, ma’am. N-no, ma’am. I swear. I’ll be back to pay for it.”

“You better. Five cents, kid.”

He left the shop, and I had to hold myself from laughing out loud.

Did I ever think I’d be a twenty-seven-year-old woman, getting her kicks by scaring rich kids? No. But, man, did it feel good. Better than good. Not that I have any residual anger issues...okay, fine. I realize I have a shit ton of them. But after what I’ve been through, who could blame me?

The moment my relationship with Townes blew up, I packed my bags. He insisted I take the apartment on Bleecker Street, but I do happen to have some pride. I threw my clothes and toiletries in the back of the white Jeep Wrangler he bought me for my twenty-fifth birthday and decided to get the hell out of New York City.

I had called my aunt Gloria the moment I took to the road, crying my heart out to her. She told me that I could help her in the shop and sleep in my old room for as long as I needed. Luckily for me, Townes had been paying for all of our living expenses, which meant