Pawliday Love

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

ISADORA

T he jingle bells above the front door ring, filling my ears with their festive melody. I toss an inconspicuous look over my shoulder just in time to catch the cold air whip past, swirling dry flakes of snow across the dark wood floors of my grandmother’s cozy coffee shop. The sparkling frosty flakes speckle the floors for a moment before melting into tiny puddles. A pair of leather work boots cross into view and my eyes travel up the pair of jeans quickly, trying to steal a glance at who the visitor is without appearing like I’m staring. When my gaze reaches his face, I whip my head around, rolling my eyes hard. Atlas Buchanan, son of the Mayor—and the rich little pretty boy who made it his life mission to torment me through high school—is standing in the middle of my grandmother’s coffee shop. Well, technically it’s my shop. She signed everything over to me in her will, but the rest of my family doesn’t know that. Shock continues to wash over my nerves. It’s been years since Atlas Buchanan dared show his face here, allowing me to almost forget he existed at all. I hope his absence is because he’s terrified I’ll spit in his coffee order or something absolutely diabolical. It’s not a bad idea. A smirk dashes across my face. While my grandmother greets him warmly, like she would any other guest, I contemplate more reasons Atlas Buccanon should stay the fuck away from me and my Nonna’s coffee shop. She has no idea the things he and his friends put me through, but I’ll never forget.

He’s speaking, and the moment the words leave his mouth, my ears are transfixed, hanging onto the rumble of his deep, tempting voice as it booms over the Christmas music. Fuck. I bite my bottom lip to keep cool. Unfortunately, my body hasn’t gotten the ‘we are ignoring hi’ memo (and it’s nearly impossible not to let my mind wander.) I wonder what it’s like to be with a man like him. Atlas Buchanan might be a pretentious, rich asshole but he’s a damn good-looking one.

“Hey, Nonna Moretti,” he says, greeting her.

“Atlas,” she replies, pulling him in for a hug. “Look at you all grown up into a fine young man.” She emphasizes the word fine , drawing it out into a longer syllable.

I can practically feel her stare on me as they continue their conversation.

“What brings you out in this weather?” Her tone is inquisitive and kind, as if she truly cares why the mayor’s son would be in her coffee shop.

“I have a favor to ask you. I know it’s incredibly short notice, but I was hoping you could help me out with a hot cocoa station this weekend for a last-minute adoption event.” He’s confident, not at all awkward, as he asks Nonna for her help.

I watch in the window reflection as she grabs his hands, examining them. “A nice young man like you. I would be happy to send Isadora to help out. She’s still single, too, you know.” My grandmother says with a wink.

I can’t bite my tongue any longer. I spin around, ready to refuse and argue, but my grandmother is already holding up her hand to stop me from opening my big mouth. Her eyes narrow as she stares down her nose at me.

“Isadora, you must remember Atlas from school. It will be good for you to get out of this stuffy old store for a day and help out the community.” It’s not up for debate, Nonna has made up her mind. Once that stubborn old woman’s mind is set on something, it’s impossible to get her to budge.

“But what about the holiday rush? Who will help you here? With the weather and the holidays, it’s going to be a busy day.” I lay the guilt on thick, hoping Atlas will rescind his favor and leave me to enjoy Christmas Eve at the coffee shop instead of trapped with him for some kind of adoption event.

“Nonsense, Isadora, I’ll be just fine. Your cousin can come in and work for a few hours while you’re gone.”

Atlas chimes in, “I’ll make it worth your time. Don’t worry. How about I pay triple the normal event fee, since it’s short notice and all?”

I bite my lip, turning away from the conversation before I smart off about how nice it must be to just go around buying peoples favors. Typical rich guy attitude, thinking he can solve everything with money.

He thanks Nonna again then hollers at me, “Thanks, Isadora. I‘ll see you soon.”

When I look over my shoulder, he gives me one of those panty-melting half smiles guys like him know how to work and turns to the door, preparing to brave the flurry of snowflakes outside.

“Nonsense, Atlas,” Nonna scolds. “Isadora will make you a nice, warm cup to-go. It’s getting cold out there.” She winks.

I fight back the overwhelming urge to vomit. The last thing I want to do is make him anything.

“You’re too kind.” He replies, staring right past Nonna with those predatory ice-blue eyes so beautiful, it’s unfair. “I would love a cup of cocoa. It’s my favorite, you know.”

“That’s because I use real Belgian chocolate.” She cackles.

I suck in my breath and make him a to-go cup. My hands shake as I fight back the anger threatening to explode. It’s his favorite. Liar. If he loves it so much, why hasn’t he stepped foot in this place for years? I finish preparing the cocoa and place a mini candy cane on top of the lid before sliding it across the counter. Nonna scowls at me and I roll my eyes at her. There’s no way I’m walking it across the store to him. He wants it, he can come and pick it up.

Unfazed by my behavior, Atlas strolls casually over to the counter. He picks up the candy cane, twirling it between his fingers. There’s no mistaking the way his eyes flit over me. His stare sends butterflies to my stomach. I silently curse myself for enjoying it.

“Thanks for the cocoa, Isadora. It’s good to be back. I’ve missed this place. No one makes better hot cocoa than your family.” He winks. “I might have to come in more regularly now that I’m settled in and the rescue is up and running.”

Did he say rescue —and that he’s back from somewhere? I honestly didn’t realize he’d left. I suppose it explains why I was able to almost forget about his entire existence. He smiles at me again and then strolls out the door into the storm. I flip him off when he’s halfway through it, which earns me a tsk from Nonna, but she doesn’t say anything more. She simply twists the lock closed behind him and flips the sign over to “closed”.

What the fuck did I just get myself into and why, for the love of all things Christmas, did it have to involve Atlas?