The Broody Brit for Christmas (Holiday Springs #1) - M.J. Fields Page 0,76

flowers and make plans to rectify that immediately.

Driving down the road, I look at my hands and realize that somehow, I have oil on them.

“Fuck.” I think as I open the console between the seats to see if she has any wipes or napkins.

I dig underneath some mail and feel the edge of a photograph.

I stop at the red light, curiosity gets the better of me, and I pull it out.

“Bad fucking idea,” I hiss.

In my hands is a picture of her kissing her douchebag fucking ex.

White-hot jealousy runs through me, turning my body into an inferno. There’s a ring on her finger. I examine it closely, bringing it to my eyes and closing one, so I can see better. It’s round on a thin gold band. They’re kissing, and his arms are around her waist, her arms are wrapped around his neck. His neck. Tight red dress. High heels. Higher than I’ve ever seen her in. Perfectly round lush arse, except the wrong set of hands are on it. Mother fuck! I clench my teeth, not even sure where the hell I am anymore.

A car honks behind me, and I pop my head up. I’ve got to pull over.

I double park beside a black Toyota Camry, putting on my blinkers. Parked, I stare down at the four by six photo like it’s a disease and I’m the doctor. Are they happy? Was she happier then than she is now? Of course, I knew she was engaged. But seeing it like this…

I drop the photo back in the compartment and slam it shut before scratching my neck. I’m acting like a fool. I’m a man, not a kid. I didn’t take Nikki from the womb. She is an adult, too, with a past. A past that apparently is still sitting in her car. Does she know it’s here? And what do I say if she does know? What do I say if she keeps it here because she is still not over him?

I need to talk to Nikki about what I found. I can’t forget this happened, and I can’t sit here and stew either. I need answers. But first, flowers.

After stopping to pick up three dozen white roses, the color of her skin, —yes three, because clearly I’m into overcompensation — I head back.

I park the Jeep in front of the Sweet Spot, after the fastest oil change of all time, flowers in tow, dead set on getting answers, I hurry in.

“You’re back already?” Nellie asks.

“Hey, Nellie, yeah. Nikki?”

She points over her shoulder. “In the back.”

I walk through the aisle of hard candy and into the back room. I look around, hearing Nikki’s voice but not seeing her.

She says, “Listen, I get it. I’m sorry, but the last few months haven’t been easy on me either.”

I pause, hearing the seriousness of her tone. I should probably leave the area and wait for her out front, but my feet won’t move.

“Uh huh...well. Uh huh.” Soft laughter. “I know. We should. I mean, we could.” Pause. “I remember, of course I do.”

My ears burn.

“I guess it would be all right,” she continues. “Next week...Sunday, how about at The Cup? It’s in the town over, Williamsburg. Noon.”

I turn around to leave the store. On my way out, I tell Nellie, “Tell Nikki her car is here.”

The door slams behind me, the bells jingling.

Rule Number Twenty-Four

Spring cleaning can happen any time of the year

Nikki

“You’re what!” I gasp when Townes, whom I haven’t even spoken to in months and haven’t seen since I quit social media stalking when I started having—and thoroughly enjoying—dirty dreams about Rafferty Graham, tells me he is here in Holiday Springs.

“You haven’t given me much choice, have you?” Nails on a chalkboard. That’s what his voice now sounds like to me, and to think I once thought it sexy.

I’d attempted to play it cool at first. Thought he’d agree to meet next week, a freaking town over, somewhat protecting my sweet little town that he’s never visited, not once, from his judgment, and also to protect those I’ve grown to care about from even having to see him.

“Winterfield’s Sweet Spot,” he sighs. “I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, stop wherever you are and send me the location.”

“How many times have you begged me to come here, Nikki? Now I’m on my way, and you’re telling me no? You never tell me no.”

“I’m not budging, Townes. If you want to talk to me, you stay put. And guess what? I’m