The Billionaire Scrooge Next Door

by Olivia Hayle

He flips the headphones over in his hand, eyes locked on mine. Adam Dunbar had never looked at me like that when I was a kid—like someone worth talking to. Ending his meetings for.

“Please,” he says. “I’ll owe you one, Holly. Come back later and I’ll hang them with you. We can order food too. For old time’s sake.” I look down at the check. “You might regret this.” “Make me,” he says.

Oh my...

His hand rests on the low of my back. It burns, even through my layers. “What about the Christmas light-obsessed mafia of Maple Lane? What are they really hiding?”

“Then where are we going?” Adam inclines his head to the rows and rows of trees for sale. “You said you couldn’t have a Christmas tree this year, because Evan’s fiancée is allergic, right?” “Right,” I say. “I have space in my house.” My mouth falls open. “Oh.”

😭😭😭😭

“Were you always this evil? I remember you as Evan’s nice friend.” He snorts. “Nice. That’s the worst word.” “It is?” “Who wants to be known as nice? Vanilla ice cream is nice. Not being cold is nice. Putting a USB stick in the right way round on the first try is nice.”

“Christ,” he mutters. “Yes, that’s right, it’s Christ’s birthday soon,” I say. “See, you know all about Christmas!”

YASSSS Holly 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

“This isn’t food worthy of trying to sweep my childhood friend’s little sister off her feet,” he says. “We can order in, if you’d like.”

😍 I love him

The feeling of being seen is a balm, and it isn’t until it’s applied that I realize how much I’ve needed it.

“You’re playing with fire,” he says through clenched teeth. I grip him tighter. “Burn me.”

BURN ME HOLY 🥵🥵🥵🥵

Adam laughs. It’s a warm sound, delighted. “Don’t hide from me.” “I have to. You’re probably reconsidering dating me right now. You’re thinking ‘Wow, she’s a weird one’ and you’ll be driving back to Chicago tomorrow.” “Not going to happen,” he says. “I have a Christmas tree to look after now.” “Right. Can’t abandon your responsibilities.” I peek over the menu and meet his dancing eyes.

“I do. Because I have a feeling this might… well. I want to do things right with you. This,” he says, raising a warning finger my way, “might not just be a Christmas hookup.”

“Christmas is a promise, you know? A promise that you’ll have time to meet your friends again, to spend time with your family in a place where your flaws don’t matter. All the decorations and gifts are window-dressing. They help enhance that promise, but they don’t make it. Does that make sense? Gingerbread is tasty, but it’s not Christmas. I love Christmas trees and eggnog and turkey, but that’s not the spirit of Christmas either. It’s tradition and comfort and relaxation.”

Perhaps that should scare me, how quickly she’s gotten beneath my skin. But all I want is to pull her closer still.

But he bends his head and speaks into my ear. “It’s always coffee, my favorite side is the one you’re on, and I don’t sleep in pajamas. With or without a hat.”

My hand curves around her hip and two fingers slip under the hem of her shirt, finding warm skin. They say you can’t make homes out of human beings, but God help me, she’s mine.

“Which means,” I say, “that you’ve finally succeeded. It’s now my favorite holiday.”

♥️♥️♥️