Tanya Michaels: Mistletoe Cinderella

He stomped through the apartment. Was this her idea of a prank? Her way of saying she hadn’t found last night as satisfying as he had? In the kitchen, next to his spice rack, now hung a freakishly ugly still life of fruit in a bowl. It looked like it had been painted by a toddler with anger-management issues. Right after he noticed the gilded mirror she’d somehow affixed over top his stove, he realized that the business card from his fridge was missing. Surely she wouldn’t…

With a sinking feeling low in his belly, he wondered if he would still be getting that delivery from the warehouse tomorrow with the new odds and ends they’d picked out or if a certain interior decorator had changed the order?

He hurried to the phone, not sure yet if he intended to call the warehouse first or Chloe, to demand an explanation and offer the chance to grovel for forgiveness. This wasn’t bad taste-her own home might not have been a bastion of high design, but it hadn’t been Roy’s House of Tacky, either-this was deliberate. He remembered how he’d told her he didn’t want anything too effeminate or busy. Her exact words had been trust me .

Like a jackass, he had. Repeatedly.

It wasn’t until he reached for the receiver that the blinking red light on the answering machine finally cut through his murderous preoccupation. He stabbed the button, hoping to hear Chloe’s voice tell him that it was all a belated April Fool’s joke. Instead Nick Zeth’s voice boomed out. Dylan was about to hit the stop button, his potential job in Mistletoe currently the last thing on his mind, but froze when he heard his friend ask “What happened with Chloe?”

Oh, hell.

She’d heard the call. It was the only reason-besides her being psychotic, and possibly color-blind-for her going nuts like this after what had been one of the best nights of his life. For a millisecond, he was tempted to blame Nick for this fiasco, but Dylan wasn’t a moron. How could he fault Nick when he was the only person in this entire mess who’d been entirely honest?

Still, Chloe had a lot of nerve saddling up a high horse under the circumstances. He glared at the blinking lights that now hung from his bedroom ceiling but stopped when he started to develop a headache. When I get my hands on her…

No time like the present. He turned off the lights and left in such a hurry that he nearly forgot to lock the door. Of course, he reminded himself, anyone stealing from his apartment in its current condition would be doing him a favor.

ALTHOUGH SHE’D FELT grimly satisfied when she’d left Dylan’s apartment, impressed with her own speedy efforts, Chloe couldn’t sustain the feeling all the way back to Mistletoe. Had she stood up for herself, or merely thrown a peevish tantrum involving gilt light fixtures and cheap fabrics? Had she only made a bad situation worse?

You fell in love and got your heart broken. Did it get much worse? Her mother may have been right about the emotion. Chloe never should have trusted in it, especially when it had been formed on such a shaky basis. Trying to have a relationship with Dylan after she’d lied to him was like building a house on quicksand, then having the gall to look surprised when it turned out to be an unlivable disaster.

She wished she hadn’t fallen in love. She wished she hadn’t lied. She wished she’d never even gone to that stupid reunion.

By the time she got home, she was sniffling back a torrent of tears. She’d called Natalie earlier, but her friend had a consultation with a bride today and had sworn to come by the house as soon as humanly possible. Chloe kicked off her shoes and went straight for her freezer, wondering if it was possible to literally drown your troubles in ice cream. Death by fudge-mint ripple. There were worse ways to go.

When the frantic pounding came at her front door, she was relieved. She put down the spoon she’d been using to eat straight from the carton. Thank goodness, Nat’s come to save me from myself.

She swung open the door, and all the ice cream she’d downed threatened to come back up. “Oh, crap.”

“Nice to see you, too.” Dylan raised his eyebrows, taking a step forward so that she had no choice but to retreat, letting him inside. “Chloe Malcolm, I presume?”

Stand your ground, Chloe admonished herself. As if she had a choice-her legs were trembling too badly to make a run for it. “It’s not like my identity comes as a surprise to you,” she retorted accusingly. “You knew.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded sharply. “I knew. No thanks to you. A guy could grow old waiting for you to develop a conscience.”

The truth in his words stung. Hadn’t she tried multiple times to gear up her courage and face what she’d thought would be her biggest humiliation ever? That had been before the embarrassment of this morning, realizing that she’d made love to Dylan when he…

“I tried to tell you last night,” she said in a weak stab at self-defense. “You didn’t let me get the words out.”

He had the grace to look chagrined.

“Did you deliberately interrupt?” she demanded. “Just so you could keep stringing me along for your own amusement?”

“Stringing you along? Don’t make me the bad guy here! I’ve been patiently waiting. Ever since the night of the reunion.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “You’ve known since then?”

“You’re not a gifted liar. But what gave it away was running into Candy Beemis downstairs. Once I’d seen both of you, I couldn’t figure out how I ever made the mistake in the first place.”

Because Candy was so much more glamorous? Chloe flinched, turning toward the living room where she could at least sag against the sofa for support. “I’m sorry. I never meant to lie to you. I know that doesn’t change what I’ve done, but it wasn’t intentional. And if you’d given me half a chance, I would have made this apology last night! What the hell was that?”

“Well, if I have to explain it to you…”

Was he trying to make a joke about what had happened, or was he just being sarcastic? Either way, she didn’t appreciate it. She glared in wordless reproach.

His expression grew more earnest. “I’ve been trying so hard not to touch you. No matter how badly I wanted you. And then I finally had you in my arms, passionate and-”

“So you were more interested in getting laid than hearing the truth?” Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered their fiery encounter. Where had her own willpower been? She could’ve said no. In theory.

In reality, she wasn’t sure she had the iron discipline to walk away from the temptation of making love with Dylan Echols. But what had been beautiful at the time, magical even, now seemed like her biggest mistake of all.

“Did you tell your buddies about last night?” she asked hollowly, wondering if she was going to become a laughingstock in town. None of the gossips in high school had ever had ammunition this juicy to use against her.

“Like you didn’t tell Natalie?”

“Because I was seeking advice!” Her voice rose, quavering. “Because I felt horrible-”

“You deserved to feel bad. Do you know how it made me feel when I realized I’d been duped?”

That had been what she couldn’t face, making him feel foolish. “I am sorry, Dylan. If I could go back, I would erase it all, I really would.”

“All of it?” Until his voice suddenly dropped to a murmur, she hadn’t realized they’d been yelling at each other.

She wanted to curl up under her comforter and cry. The worst part was that she liked who she’d become during the past month. She’d taken too much pleasure in Dylan’s company and discovering the C.J. side of herself. Now it was all muddled together, mired in guilt and confusion.