Merry Misunderstandings

Enemies

Grayson POV

The whole drive back to Cedar Hollow, Vivienne was uncharacteristically quiet. His eyes had flickered towards her a few times, but not even a remark about her side of the B&B being in shambles because of Marcus Hayes had coaxed one of her snarky remarks out of her.

Grayson preferred her angry side to her sad one.

“So, was Walton’s seminar everything you thought it would be?” He asked, trying to make conversation.

Vivienne hummed absentmindedly. Grayson sighed inwardly. He shouldn’t care this much about her. She was his rival, not to mention Hayden’s ex—who he wanted to get back together with. Sleeping with her had been a mistake—one he didn’t want to admit to Hayden just yet. But the sad look on her face made him want to turn the car around and break every bone in that prick Ryan’s face.

He thought back to what made Vivienne happy in high school. Even though he pretended she was nothing special, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her—as if an invisible magnet was pulling him closer to her.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind and, without a word, he decided to make a little detour before they headed back to their B&B—back to being rivals.

“Hey, did you—did you miss an exit or something?” Vivienne suddenly said, causing Grayson to hide his smirk.

“Oh darn, I must have missed it,” He said sarcastically. Vivienne sighed from the passenger seat, grumbling something under her breath.

“Hartford? Wait a minute, are we—” Vivienne asked, her head snapping to him.

“Why don’t you take a look for yourself,” Grayson gestured towards the house he’d stopped at. Vivienne gasped, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Oh my God! The Mark Twain House & Museum! How did you—why are we—” She stumbled over her words while Grayson leaned back in his seat.

“How did you even know I’d like this?” she asked, her voice softer now. She glanced at him, and he was unsure if she was annoyed or… something else.

Grayson shrugged. ‘You’re predictable, Foxy. Old books, old houses—it’s your thing. Thought you might like to nerd out while I can see if I can find a decent cup of coffee around her.” He shrugged, but he could feel a blush creeping up his neck.

“It’s not nerding out—it’s appreciating history.” Vivienne said, already getting out of the car.

Grayson smiled as he watched her stare up at the house in awe. He’d remembered the year Vivienne had done a presentation on Mark Twain. She’d been obsessed and clearly, it hadn’t faded away.

“Oh my goodness, will you look at the stained glass? It’s stunning. The whole house is stunning. It kind of reminds me of the B&B.” He could hear her whispering all the way from the car.

Grayson looked around until he saw a little café down the road. He needed a decent cup of coffee before he could face anything related to literature.

“Did you know the wallpaper was designed by Louis Comfort Tiffany” She gushed.

“Nope,” he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. “But I did know Twain’s real name was Samuel Clemens.”

He still remembered the way her eyes lit up in English class, presenting on Mark Twain like he was a personal friend. Grayson had teased her mercilessly, but it had stuck with him—enough that he could still hear her voice explaining why Samuel Clemens had chosen the pen name Twain.

Vivienne froze, spinning around to face him. “How—” she started, narrowing her eyes suspiciously before her gaze dropped to the coffee cup. “And how did you sneak that in here?”

Grayson shrugged. “I’ve got charm,” he said, flashing an exaggerated grin.

Her laugh was small but genuine. “You’re like a raccoon. I can’t take you anywhere nice without you sneaking in food or drinks.,” she said, shaking her head. But she didn’t stop smiling as they walked through Twain’s billiard room.

“This is where he wrote his stories,” Vivienne said in hushed awe, running her fingers over the desk. Grayson tried to see what she saw in the dusty old furniture. He failed. But the light in her eyes made it worth the detour.

All the way through the house, Vivienne had talked and shared details about Mark Twain’s life and Grayson—had actually enjoyed it. Or maybe it had been her energy.

“We better get going if we want to make it back before nightfall.” Grayson said after a few hours. Vivienne nodded, the smile on her face was contagious.

The drive back to Cedar Hollow took longer because of the detour, but Grayson didn’t mind. Vivienne was still smiling as they crossed back into town. It was small, but it made her look... lighter somehow. She even sang along to the radio, causing Grayson to chuckle.

When the B&B came into view, she turned to him.

“Thank you,” she said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Grayson glanced at her. “For what?”

“For the detour. I needed that,” she said, her eyes meeting his.

He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he didn’t. Instead, he pulled into the gravel driveway of the B&B.

Vivienne grabbed her bag and hesitated before getting out. “I’ll see you inside,” she said, her tone almost hesitant.

Grayson watched her as she walked toward the front porch, the light from the B&B catching in her hair. His phone buzzed in the cupholder. His stomach sank when he saw the caller ID: Grandfather.

“Grayson,” the old man’s voice barked as soon as he answered. “Any progress on driving those damn Woods out of Cedar Hollow?”

Grayson gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?” his grandfather repeated, his tone cold and sharp enough to cut glass. “You’ve had weeks. I didn’t bail you out of that mess back in college so you could sit on your ass and waste my money.”

Grayson’s jaw clenched, the memories flashing in his mind. The accident. The cops. The cold, detached way his grandfather had pulled strings to keep him out of jail—and the equally cold ultimatum that followed.

“You want to keep the lifestyle you’ve gotten so comfortable with?” his grandfather had said back then, his voice dripping with disdain. “Then you’re going to clean up your act, and when I call, you’ll do as you’re told. You owe me.”

Grayson had spent years proving he could play by the rules, keeping his head down, and doing exactly what his grandfather demanded. Now, that debt felt heavier than ever.

“Do you hear me, boy?” his grandfather snapped, pulling Grayson back to the present.

“Yes, sir,” Grayson replied, his voice tight. He hated the way he fell into line so easily, but what choice did he have?

His grandfather sighed. “Good. I want results, and I want them soon. Don’t make me regret cleaning up your mess.”

The line went dead.

Grayson stared at the phone, his mind racing.

Through the windshield, he caught a glimpse of Vivienne stepping inside the B&B, her smile still lingering after their detour. For a brief moment, he let himself remember the sound of her laughter at the museum, the way she’d lit up talking about Twain. It stirred something in him—something he didn’t want to name.

But that didn’t matter.

Grayson shoved the phone into his pocket and leaned back in the driver’s seat. His grandfather was right. He owed him too much to get distracted now.

Vivienne Woods wasn’t just a distraction; she was the enemy. And enemies didn’t make each other smile.