“If you’re this tied up over her, why didn’t you bring her with you?” Tate asked. “I mean, I don’t blame you. That dumbass right there”—he lifted his beer toward Rafe where he was chatting up two beautiful women—“is enough reason.”
Grant glanced at Rafe, then back at Tate, confused. “What?”
“The chick you’re twisted over. Why didn’t you just bring her with you? You could have made it a mini Christmas vacation.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but every excuse he pulled up fell flat—she didn’t have any family to stay in Holly for. She’d given up on judging the contest. The hardware store was closed Christmas Day.
Why didn’t I just bring her?
A sick feeling spread across the floor of his stomach. To push it away, Grant blew Tate off. “What kind of question is that? Who’d want to come to one of these things? They’re boring as shit. I don’t even want to come.”
“You’re not serious.” It was half-statement. “Dude, the National Christmas Tree lighting? This is an exclusive event. The fucking President of the United States chose us to come. I know you’re not his fan, and I know the whole celebrity thing doesn’t do anything for you, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t do anything for her.”
He thought of Faith’s reaction to the news of his obligation. “That’s an opportunity most people will go their whole lives without ever experiencing.”
That icky feeling in his gut rose through his chest.
“Chicks dig this shit.” Tate gestured around the room where everyone was talking and laughing with others. “Everyone digs this shit. Well, except losers like us.”
Grant was a loser, all right.
A major loser.
In fact, he was pretty sure he’d lost the best thing he’d ever found.
He replayed his last fifteen minutes with Faith over in his head again and again. “Safe travels, Grant Saber.”
“Grant?”
A woman’s smooth voice tugged him into the present, and he looked into the eyes of a woman he’d hooked up with a few months back. Kim? Kelly? Kris? Kira? Something with a K. She was so his type—so urban, so sleek, so perfect, so superficial. And he didn’t even remember anything about their time in bed, just that he’d slept with her. He knew without any doubt he’d remember every minute with Faith.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Oh, yeah,” Tate said with a lift of the brows as he brought his drink to his mouth. “I forgot who I was talking to. That’s a good reason not to bring her.”
Everything inside him pushed back. No. He didn’t want to go back to that life. He’d touched something real, and nothing else would ever measure up.
He turned and shoved his drink into Tate’s hand. “All yours. I’m done.”
“What? Grant—“ He pushed both drinks into one hand and grabbed Grant’s arm. “You can’t just walk out. We’re here for the fucking photo op with the President. He’s not even here yet.”
“Then he’s going to miss out, isn’t he?” Grant jerked from Tate’s grasp and threading his way through the crowded room toward the exit and the limos waiting beyond.
Faith pulled the last package of drill bits from the last box of inventory that had once filled the shelves of her basement, and hung it on the designated hook. Releasing a sigh, she rested her hands on the top of the stepstool, surveying the shelves around her for organizing opportunities. But she already knew there were none to be found—she’d organized every shelf in the store, top to bottom, end to end over the last thirty hours since she’d said good-bye to Grant.
She’d only taken a break to watch the tree lighting ceremony—and boy had that been a mistake. Her mind replayed the sight Faith was sure she’d never forget, of Bridgette Ferreira cutting through the crowd and sliding right into place at Grant’s side, smiling up at him like an adoring Barbie doll.
Her stomach dropped to her feet again with the force of a ninety-degree rollercoaster plunge. Faith’s core muscles tightened to protect her against the inevitable pain. “He certainly didn’t waste any time picking up where he left off.”
God, she was so gullible.
So many emotions roiled inside her they made her dizzy. She had to find something to keep her mind occupied or she was sure she’d drive herself insane.
Faith climbed down the short ladder and sn
apped it closed. The metal clap echoed through the empty store. Not a soul had come through the front door in hours. Everyone in town and about a thousand other visitors were all at the festival.
And just like that, the ice-carving contest, her dad, and Natalie joined Grant in her uncomfortable thoughts.