Page 20 of Theirs for the Holidays

Something like a smile flickers over Lennox’s face. “That used to be our favorite spot growing up,” he says. “We’d go there after school?—”

“—and get chili dogs and French fries and a milkshake,” Sawyer finishes.

“We shared the milkshake because then it was healthier.”

Lennox snorts. “I ate so much one time that I threw up on the way home behind Mrs. Campbell’s bushes. She never did find out that was me.”

The two of them laugh, sharing that memory, and for just a second it’s almost like how things used to be between them. But the moment doesn’t last, and it’s easy to tell the moment they remember they don’t like each other, smiles dropping away.

They turn away from each other, and I stifle a sigh.

“Let’s go get some lunch,” I say, leading the way down the street.

Porter’s sits at the end of the square, and it’s always busy. With the weather being crisp and cold, and people dipping in and out of the shops on High Street, doing their holiday shopping, Porter’s is the place everyone comes to get warm and get fed.

They do a rousing trade of hot cocoa, tea, and coffee, as well as a steady stream of burgers, sandwiches, and fries.

We join the line at the counter, and the guys look up at the menu.

“Is it the same as you remember?” I ask them.

“Just about. I don’t remember there being salads the last time I was here,” Sawyer says.

I snort. “There definitely were salads, I think you just ignored that part.”

“You sound like you know what you’re going to get,” someone says, and I glance up to see the guy in front of us in line smiling at me. I don’t recognize him, which means he’s either new to town or just passing through on his way to somewhere else.

“I come here a lot,” I reply, flashing him a polite smile. “And I basically get the same thing every time.”

“Maybe you could help me then.” He steps a bit closer, leaning down into my personal space just a little. “You know, tell me what’s good.”

“Oh, it’s all good. Porter’s is famous for having the best of everything.”

“Is that so?” He smiles. “I guess you’d be the expert.”

Before I can reply, Sawyer steps up next to me. He puts an arm around my shoulder, pulling me against the warmth of his side. I’m suddenly surrounded by the smoky scent of him, and I swallow back my surprise.

“You’re a grown man,” he says. “I think you can decide what to eat for yourself.” He jerks his head, a clear order for this guy to get lost.

And the guy does, holding up his hands and turning around, putting more space between us.

“What was that?” I hiss lightly. “He wasn’t doing anything.”

Sawyer gives me a flat look. “Violet, he was hitting on you. And not even subtly.”

“I think you’re reading too much into it. He was just making conversation.”

“You’re not reading enough into it,” he says. “And anyone who thinks they can just hit on you like that is going to have to go through me. I might not have been in the army like Lennox or worked as a bodyguard like Rhett, but I can still throw a punch.”

My eyes go wide at the way he says that. It’s so possessive, so protective, and utterly surprising. Of course, it’s just for the lie we’re trying to sell, but there’s a seriousness in his tone that makes my stomach flutter in response.

Luckily, it’s our turn to order next, and I can take a breath as I smile at the cashier and order my burger and salad.

We get our food, and we’re lucky that a family of four has just vacated their table when we’re ready to sit down. Someone wipes it down for us, and we sit with our food.

My stomach growls from the smells, and I bite into my burger, humming with pleasure.

The guys don’t really talk much as they start to eat, but for once it’s not really awkward. They seem more focused on eating than antagonizing each other, and I’ll take that right now.