Chapter 3
PAIGE
“Okay, I’ve changed my mind,” I said between bites of warm pecan pie, the sugary scent mixing with the faint aroma of hot chocolate drifting from the counter. “I’m going to shut down my online shop and open a diner like this one.”
“In Bakersfield?” he asked, his fork pausing midair.
I nodded. “We have one restaurant, and it’s a meat and three.”
“That means it serves meat and three vegetables,” he said, looking unreasonably pleased with himself. “I was stationed in Kentucky for a couple of years and got my fill of the southern way of life.”
“We’re known for our sweet tea and grits.” I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t like either. But this pie—” I scooped up another bite with melting vanilla ice cream clinging to it— “this pie is giving me life right now.”
Jonas tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Giving me life?”
“It’s a saying,” I explained. “Your mayor would probably know it.”
I meant it teasingly, and I hoped he took it that way. Judging by the faint smile tugging at his mouth, he did. I pegged him mid-thirties—ten, twelve years older than me—but even with that gap, I felt a spark with him I couldn’t explain.
“So you plan to stay in…what was the name of your town again?”
“Bakersfield. South Carolina.” I shifted in my seat, aware of the Christmas tune floating down from the speaker above—“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”—soft and almost wistful.
“And yeah, I guess. I never thought much about it, actually. I’ve done a few festivals this fall, leading up to Christmas, and I’ve liked traveling around. ”
Bakersfield was home. Always had been, always would be. At least, that’s what I’d believed. But sitting across from Jonas, with holiday lights glowing in the frosted diner window behind him, I suddenly wasn’t so sure.
My parents were there, of course. And my best friend.
Well, she was about to move to Rhode Island with some guy she’d met online, which only underscored how little Bakersfield had left to offer.
Especially when it came to single men. The dating pool had dried up faster than eggnog at a church Christmas social.
“No,” I blurted. “I don’t plan to stay there. I mean, I always thought I would, but with a population of only three thousand eight hundred forty-seven—”
“And you know three thousand eight hundred forty-six of them,” he cut in.
I grinned. “I’m pretty sure I know the three thousand eight hundred forty-seventh person too.”
I took another bite of pie, chewing slowly as I debated how much to open up to him. I could keep it safe—eat, smile, leave—but that was the old me. The one who played it comfortable, never stepping beyond the Christmas lights strung around her small-town porch. I wanted more now.
“There’s nobody to date,” I said finally. “I’m hopelessly single. It’s not like Wildwood Valley, where you can just hop on the interstate and be in a bigger town in five minutes.”
“More like twenty,” he corrected with a smirk.
“Okay, even twenty. For me, it’s an hour, and even then, there aren’t jobs there unless you want to work retail. But I love small-town life. And Bakersfield is quaint, but it’s nothing like this place.”
“No mountains,” he said. “I live for my morning hikes up Wildwood Ridge.” He leaned back, Christmas lights reflecting in the sheen of his dark eyes.
“But about that singles scene. You won’t find a better one here.
Not when it comes to single women to hang out with.
When festivals aren’t going on, it’s just us men and the women who moved here to be with us. ”
Be with us.
My heart dipped. A woman had moved here for him?
As though reading my thoughts, he leaned in. “Be with them. I’m single, like you.”
Relief poured through me so fast, I set my fork down before I dropped it. “Oh. Good. I mean—not good that you’re single if you don’t want to be, but good that—” I clamped my lips shut. “You know what I mean.”
He gave me a slow, knowing smile. “I know what you mean.”
The way he was looking at me made my cheeks go hot. Brown eyes, steady and unflinching, like he could see right through my candy-cane-printed sweater. Thrilling and terrifying, all at once.
“So what’s your story?” he asked, his voice a low rumble beneath the Christmas music. “How does someone as beautiful as you end up hopelessly single in a town where you know everyone?”
Beautiful. The word fluttered through me, warm and unsteady.
“You really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
I picked at my crust, the buttery scent lingering in the air. “It’s not that exciting. Small town, small dating pool. Most guys I went to school with either left and never came back, or they stayed and married their high school girlfriends right after graduation.”
“And you didn’t go to college?”
“Couldn’t afford it.” The words tasted sharper than the pie. “My parents had to choose between me and my brother. He had a partial scholarship for baseball, so…” I shrugged. “Different paths.”
Jonas’s gaze softened, steady in the glow of the tiny Christmas wreath hanging in the booth window. “That must have been hard.”
“It was what it was. I started my bell business instead, and it worked out. College boys probably wouldn’t have been any better anyway.”
“What about after high school? Surely someone—”
“Nope.” My cheeks burned. “Like I said, slim pickings. Jesse Benson at the hardware store cared more about his truck than anything else. Brody McKellar moved to Atlanta. That was about it.”
Jonas studied me with an intensity that made my pulse skip. “So you’ve never…?”
The question dangled. My face flamed.
“I’ve dated,” I said. “Sort of. There was a guy I met at a craft fair, but it fizzled after a few calls. Before that—honestly? No. Not really. I’ve never had a real relationship.”
Jonas froze. “Define real relationship.”
My throat closed. Was I really about to confess this here, in a diner decorated with blinking Christmas lights and peppermint-striped napkin holders?
“I mean I’ve never…” I waved vaguely, mortified. “You know. Been with anyone.”
His fork slipped, clattering against his plate. He coughed, grabbing his water.
“Are you okay?” I asked, wishing I could vanish into the large poinsettia plant nearby.
He swallowed hard, eyes watering. “Yeah. You just…caught me off guard.”
“I know it’s weird,” I blurted. “Twenty-three and never… God, you probably think I’m some kind of freak.”
“No.” His voice was rough, his gaze dark and intent. “Not weird. Just…surprising.”
“It’s not like I planned it. The opportunity just never came with anyone worth it. And then I started traveling, meeting people, and I thought maybe…but everyone was taken, or passing through.”
“Until now,” Jonas said quietly.
The words sparked through me. “Until now,” I echoed.
We stared at each other, the soft croon of Bing Crosby overhead, the clink of plates in the background, all of it fading into nothing but the crackle between us.
“Paige,” he said, low and rough. “I need you to know something.”
My heart thudded. I nodded.
“When I saw you tonight, standing behind that table with your bells, I knew.” He leaned forward, voice husky. “Knew you were going to matter. Knew I wanted to know you.”
“And now?” I whispered.
His eyes darkened. “Now I want everything. And I’m glad you waited.”
“You are?”
“Hell yes.” He brushed my hand with his, the contact sparking through me. “Because it means you’ll experience it all for the first time with someone who’ll treasure every second.”
The intensity in his tone had my breath catching, my whole body thrumming with want.
“Jonas,” I whispered.
“I know this is fast,” he said, his thumb brushing my knuckles, “but I’ve never felt this before. Not even close.”
“Neither have I,” I admitted.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly. “You’re perfect.”
Tears pricked, unexpected. “I don’t know what I’m doing. With any of this.”
“You don’t have to,” he said. “We’ll figure it out together.”
The door chimed, cold air rushing in along with a group of festival-goers, cheeks red from the night wind, voices merry. Suddenly, the diner was bustling with activity.
Jonas squeezed my hand gently. “Want to get out of here?”
I nodded, desperate for quiet, for him.
We slid out and stepped into the cold night. The air was sharp with pine and smoke from someone’s fireplace. Christmas lights glittered along the street, casting us in red and green.
“So,” I said, breath puffing white. “What now?”
He stepped close, towering, eyes dark. “Now I walk you to your car and try to be a gentleman.”
“And if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?” The words tumbled out, daring and shaky.
His hand cupped my cheek. “Paige, you’re going to be the death of me.”
“Yes or no?”
He chuckled, low and rough. “That’s a ‘let me walk you to your car before I start a town scandal.’”
I grinned. “I’m parked just around the corner.”
“Lead the way,” he said, sliding his hand to the small of my back. “But I’m warning you—I want to see you again. Tomorrow.”
“I’d like that,” I said softly.
As we walked beneath twinkling Christmas lights, his touch warm against me, I couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe stepping out of my comfort zone had been what I needed all along. Maybe some things were worth waiting for.
And maybe, just maybe, I’d found something worth staying for.