Jingle Wars: A New Adult Enemies to Lovers Romcom (Hollyridge Book 1)

by R. Holmes

  I look over at her and see unshed tears filling her eyes. For the first time since meeting Freya, I see her for more than the neighbor next door that I'm supposed to hate. Everything is turning out to be more complicated, especially when I realize that I’m falling for a traitor. A beautiful, traitorous neighbor who despite all of that, is still off limits.

  Now I realize just why I’ve spent so much time trying to hate her. She came to Hollyridge with the goal of making her resort the bigger, better resort. With all of the finest amenities money could buy. High tech sleigh rides, state of the art theatre system. Nothing that the Mayberry could compete with. My immediate distaste for her only grew when I saw not only was she my number one competition for the inn, but that she was trying to change Hollyridge as a whole. Attract more people, bring in more tourists. Take away the small-town, quiet place that my town has always been.

  But I was wrong, that’s not what Freya was doing. Seeing her vulnerable and her compassion, I know her heart has nothing but truth in it. She was never trying to hurt me or Hollyridge. She just didn’t understand and now…I think she might.

  "I went to the inn excited to spend the evening with Grams and Gramps, and then suddenly my parents were dead. From that moment on they took me in, they raised me. Every single thing about me, I owe to them. Everything Freya. Hell, I'm nothing without them. They made me a man. They raised me to be a man that I’m proud of.” My voice is tight with emotion.

  “That’s why you’re so close to them, because they’re like your parents,” she says softly. I hear emotion in her voice, which wasn’t my intent, but I need her to understand why I’m participating in this stupid competition anyway.

  I nod. “When I say I owe them everything, I mean it. Gramps is sick Freya. His heart… It’s not doing good. He collapsed in the front yard recently and was hospitalized, and that’s ultimately what made me move out of my apartment downtown and back into the inn. He just can’t keep up with all of the maintenance, and Grams is on him to stay off his feet and relax, which just isn’t in his vocabulary.”

  I laugh. “So I moved back in and have been doing anything and everything I can. Including letting Grams bribe me into dates with her friends' granddaughters in exchange for her cookies.”

  I swallow thickly. The memories of the past come barreling back as I tell Freya what’s really been going on in my world. “The first week that I was here, I discovered a stack of bills that have gone unpaid for months. Gramps admitted that business hasn’t been going well, and he’s behind on the mortgage. Seeing the look on his face when he said that almost killed me. He’s so full of pride.”

  Freya’s eyes are wide and her lips are parted in shock. She truly had no idea things were like this bad at the inn.

  “Him and Grams opened the inn almost fifty years ago, and have built a business from the ground up. Never had any help. And now it’s like all his hard work is being ripped from him. He feels helpless. Hell, I feel helpless. Everything is falling apart. It seems like every time I fix one thing, something worse breaks.” It feels strange to open up to her like this, but it also feels right.

  “So that’s why you joined the competition… For the prize money?” She looks at me compassionately. The unshed tears clinging to her lashes begin to fall. She’s realizing that it isn’t just “some” competition for me, and it’s the only way to save my grandparents' Inn.

  Nodding, I slow down as we drive across the very bridge that my parents were killed. Emotion hits me in a strong wave as we reach the other side.

  “It’s up to me to save the one thing my grandparents have worked their entire life for. That’s why I have to win this competition. Why nothing can distract me from what I came here for.” I hope she understands the meaning behind what I’m saying. That she is the distraction that I can’t afford.

  Freya’s quiet the rest of our ride into town, staring out the window. I hate that I had to push her away, but the farther I get into this competition, the harder I have to work to make sure I’m the one who’s on the stage collecting that prize money.

  Nothing is going to stand in my way. Nothing will stop me from saving the inn. Even if it means pushing away Freya in the end.

  At first when Grams Mayberry sent Finn and I on errands two days ago, I was cautious and unsure. I didn’t know how to act around Finn after he’d been such a dick immediately after kissing me with wild abandon outside of Moose’s last Friday. When he caught me in his kitchen with his grandmother, I thought he’d kick me out on my ass if it weren’t for the promise of his favorite cookies.

  But as we drove through the steady snowfall, he told me about his parents and his grandparents.

  I could barely focus on the shopping we did for Grams, lost in my thoughts while Finn took us from store to store. When I couldn’t remember the decorations I was supposed to get, he talked to the shop owner and took care of it for me, shooting me worried glances for my quietness.

  My heart ached for him, tears springing to my eyes. As soon as I swiped them away, new ones would hit me. How could the world be so cruel, ripping away a young boy’s parents, leaving him to face such a painful tragedy?

  My family is…dysfunctional at best, too obsessed with money and renown to truly care about each other. My estranged brothers and I are a transaction, a business investment my parents completed and moved on from with their divorce. None of us talk to each other. Really talk, not what passes for conversation between Dad and I.

  For all that I grew up lonely, I had my parents in some way or another. But Finn…

  I ball my fists at my side to fight off the fresh wave of sadness threatening to swallow me whole as I walk the path leading to the Mayberry Inn from the Alpine’s front entry drive.

  Today I’m on a mission to see my handsome neighbor about a cup of sugar. A metaphoric one, intended as a peace offering. When Finn told me his reason for entering the Jingle Wars competition is all to give back to his grandparents for raising him and save his family’s struggling inn, I understood so much more about who he is. He’s an admirable man beneath the gruff moodiness.

  I don’t want Finn and his grandparents to lose the livelihood they built by hand, or lose the place Finn grew up.

  The idea came to me while I was soaking in the hot spring last night, blowing bubbles with my lips beneath the surface of the steamy water while no one was looking.

  It’s a perfect plan. I want us to set up a joint event for the town. It will be sponsored by both his family inn and the Alpine, my way of showing Finn I don’t want to steal his business or work in competition against him. We can work together.

  As I march up the front walkway leading to Mayberry Inn’s wraparound porch, I find Gramps talking to one of the inn’s guests, an older man with a newsboy cap and a book tucked under his arm. Gramps is laughing with him, bundled in a parka and leaning on a snow shovel.

  “Morning, Gramps,” I call as I approach.

  He lights up at the sight of me, stirring a happy glow of warmth in my chest. “Freya! Good mornin’. Ain’t you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.” He tosses a glance to the inn’s guest and his smile stretches wider when he looks back at me. “Pretty as ever, too.”

  Grinning, I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Thank you. Yes, I am bright-eyed this morning. I’m taking on the day, sir.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Gramps says with a nod of approval. “Good to have your head on right, I always say.”

  His approval means more to me than I can say. First baking cookies with Grams Mayberry, and now being recognized by Gramps for having a good work ethic? The glow in my chest grows into a dancing little sun.

  The conversation with Finn in his truck runs through my head as I take in the snow shovel in Gramps’ hand and the freshly shoveled walkway. I don’t know if I can say anything, but a fissure of worry runs through me at the thought of Gramps exerting himself with his heart problems.

  “Where’s Finn? I came by looking for him.” I offer Gramps a wry sm
ile. “Is he slacking off, leaving you to do all the work around here? Doesn’t seem like him.”

  I know Finn works hard, but I don’t want to hurt Gramps’ pride if I fuss over him.

  Gramps busts out in a hearty chuckle and the older man with him smiles. Gramps nods to the guest. “He’s stuck inside, getting his ear talked off while this one’s wife flirts with him. Same as every year since they started coming to stay at the inn. This is Warren Shepherd. He and Bertie love the mountain air.”

  “That we do,” Mr. Shepherd says. He looks at Gramps and his smile wanes. “Shame about this year being quieter around here.”

  I chew the inside of my lip, hit by a pang of guilt. This is exactly why I want to present my plan to Finn today. We don’t have to work against each other. That’s never what I wanted when I came here.

  Gramps waves him off. “So it goes. You should enjoy the time to read your books on the porch without so many kids running around.”

  Mr. Shepherd’s shoulders shake with amusement. “It’ll be a blessing not to duck those snowball fights.”

  “I’m going to look for Finn. It was good to see you, Gramps. Nice meeting you, Mr. Shepherd, and I hope you enjoy your stay in Hollyridge.” The corners of my mouth lift. “I’m new in town, but I can see why you fell in love with it here. It’s great that you and your wife have a favorite place to visit.”

  Mr. Shepherd nods, holding up his book and ambling toward the rocking chairs on the wraparound porch.

  “Don’t be a stranger, now,” Gramps says to me, waving as he heads for the side entrance around the back of the inn.

  I continue toward the Mayberry. As soon as I reach the end of the walkway, the front door opens and Finn steps out, bundled in a coat. He takes me in, dressed in jeans and the bright red peacoat I finally bought in town, and blinks.

  “Hey.” I’m suddenly feeling a rush of awkwardness.

  “You’re over here twice in the same week?” Finn lifts his brows teasingly as he pulls the door shut behind him. The old wood planks creak as he saunters across the porch. His mouth curves into a lopsided, lazy smile. “You planning on moving in next?”

  “Grams said I was welcome whenever,” I say defensively, raising my chin, daring him to deny it.

  The truth is, it felt so important and special when Grams Mayberry invited me inside to bake cookies with her. She spent more time teaching me how to mix and handle the dough than I did helping. Each time I think of my first memory making cookies from scratch with her guiding me through the process, I’m struck by a nonstop surge of emotions welling in my throat. To her it might have been another afternoon spent baking cookies she’s made hundreds of times, but to me it’s immeasurable how much it meant.

  I’m still afraid Finn will push me away more than he has, refuse to allow me to get to know his family. He said in the truck the other day I didn’t have to explain myself, and he even opened up to me, but I’m wary he’ll turn around and shut me out once more. He was quick to do it after the kiss, and has made it clear where his priorities lie.

  We’ve reached some sort of gray middle area between the rivalry we were fostering and friendship. I think, anyway. Why would he tell me so much about his life and his financial struggles if he still thought of me as his enemy? Ever since that kiss, something changed between us.

  If only he wanted that to happen between us again.

  “By all means.” He waves an arm, inviting me inside. “Go hang out with Grams.”

  “Actually, I’m here to see you.”

  He hitches a shoulder. “I’m on my way out.”

  His eyes narrow when he sees the shoveled path and he sighs something unintelligible under his breath. All I catch is Gramps and stubborn old man. When he steps off the weathered porch and brushes past me, I follow, holding onto my slouchy knit beanie so it doesn’t slip off.

  “It’ll only take a minute.”

  “What do you want?” He walks fast on his longer legs, leaving me to shuffle double time to keep pace with him around the side of the inn.

  “A potluck.” We reach his truck and he angles his head to peer at me over his shoulder. “Let’s put one together for Hollyridge. The holidays are a time people come together.”

  Finn swipes his fingers over his mouth, smoothing his scruff. It’s thicker today, like he let it go a few more days between trimmings. “I have a lot to do today, Freya. I don’t have much time to listen to this.”

  “Great, so I’ll come with you,” I shoot back, skirting around the front of the truck and opening the passenger door. “We’ll multitask. I’ll pitch the idea on the way.”

  His mouth hangs open at me inviting myself. I plop on the aged, cracked black leather bench seat, shifting a blanket aside to make room. Cedar and spice hits my nose. It smells like him inside, overwhelmingly so. As if his essence is soaked into these seats.

  I was too on edge to appreciate it the other day, but now I’m taking notice.

  “You can’t just come with me.” It comes out like he’s talking through a laugh.

  “Sure I can. I’m already in the truck. Hurry up and start it so we can blast the heat. It’s freezing out here.”

  Finn remains quiet for another beat, raking his fingers through his tousled brown hair as his thoughts turn. After heaving an exasperated sigh, he yanks the door open on his side and climbs in. He ignores me pointedly as he turns the ignition and backs out of his parking spot. I like watching him in his truck, studying the familiar way he handles the gear shift and rests the heel of his palm over the wheel.

  A moment later, he adjusts the dial to turn on the heat. I hum in content when I put my hands up in front of the vents. His attention slides to my profile.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “Errands,” Finn says.

  “Again?”

  “Not for Grams this time. There’s always something to do.”

  As we pull out onto the main road from the inn’s entrance, my gaze flits to the backseat. Before everything, when I was new to town, I fantasized about making out with Finn in his truck. It’s cliché as hell, but it’s still an appealing mental image. Maybe more so now that I know him better.

  Especially now that I know the feel of his lips on mine.

  After the kiss at the bar, with Finn’s strong arms holding me up against the wall while his hands massaged my ass through the leather pants, and the heat of his ragged panting against my neck between biting kisses…yeah, I have all-new fantasies about my lumberjack neighbor.

  The steamy thoughts fly from my head once I realize we’re pulling into a farm after only a few minutes on the road. Two men are red in the face as they struggle with a huge tractor by the edge of a frozen pond. It seems stuck, or like it slid down the snowy incline.

  Finn parks the truck a few feet away from them and gets out.

  I shift sideways on the seat to watch him get rope and a big metal hook from the truck bed. “What sort of errands are you running?”

  “Favors called in, mostly. We help each other out around here. Everyone has each other’s backs.” He cocks his head with a smirk, gaze flicking over me. “Going to stay in the truck, Princess?”

  I suck my lower lip into my mouth. He still thinks I’m too good for hard work? “Nope.” I hop down, glad I wore jeans today. “How long will this take?”

  Finn releases a raspy chuckle. “About however long it takes, usually.” He hesitates, studying me once more. “You can stay in the truck. It’s okay.”

  “No thanks.”

  I walk off towards the two men by the tractor and he falls into step beside me with a smile playing in the corners of his mouth.

  “You’ve just—got to—argh!” The older man on the left with gray hair peeking out from beneath his beanie kicks at the muddy wheel of the tractor that’s stuck in the pond with broken ice surrounding it. “Blasted thing.”

  “All right now, Uncle Lyle. Don’t get all tore up,” Finn says with amusement lacing his tone. “We’ll get it o
ut.”

  “Oh, is he part of your family, too?” I stick out my hand, eager to meet more of Finn’s relatives. “Hi, I’m Freya.”

  “Not really my uncle,” Finn says as he circles around the tractor. “Just likes everyone to call him that.”

  “Ain’t you a pretty little thing.” Lyle takes my hand before I drop it and gives it a hearty shake. “Jared, ain’t she pretty? That’s my son.”

  “Come on.” Finn’s deep voice sounds from right behind me, his hand brushing over my hip through my wool coat. “Stop getting distracted. Let’s get your tractor back to rights.”

  Without any life experience in pulling tractors from frozen ponds, I stand guard, watching as Finn and Jared point at different parts of the tractor while rigging the rope he brought to the back end.

  “Freya.” Finn’s head pokes over one of the wheels. “Can you go to my truck and get the jug of rock salt? We need it for the traction.”

  “Right! On it.” I hurry back to the truck and search the bed for it. The jug is heavy, but I manage with a little grunt, carrying it back. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Finn takes the rock salt and sprinkles it liberally on the snow by the wheels. “Ok, Jared, get on up and Lyle, you pull with my truck.”

  The three of them move quickly, driving the truck over and attaching the tractor with the rope and hook to the hitch.

  As I’m watching Finn work with Lyle and his son, a funny sensation builds in my chest, encircling my heart. The man who I thought was stubborn and willing to play dirty isn’t really who I thought he was at all.

  He’s so much more.

  Finn is kind. Helpful. The sort of person who would give the shirt off his back to someone in need.

  His grandparents did a great job raising him, especially in the wake of the tragedy that rocked their family. He’s a good man.