Second Chance Holiday (Spruce Crossing Christmas Book 2)

6. Christian

Ican’t stop thinking about the kiss in the woods, the sleep which usually overtakes me so easily impossible to find tonight. It’s late, but not so late that Mason will be asleep, and I text him, the lights still off in my bedroom.

Me: You all closed up for the night?

Mason: Why are you awake? It’s almost midnight. Don’t you have to work in the morning?

Me: Can’t sleep.

The phone rings, startling me. When I pick up, I hear the background noise, and I realize he’s leaving the restaurant.

“What’s going on?” my best friend asks. “Need company?”

I chuckle. “We’re not in college anymore,” I reply. “I don’t know if we can handle all-nighters in our thirties.”

“I couldn’t keep up with you in college, either,” Mason teases back. I hear a car door slam and the vehicle start. “What’s going on?”

I consider telling him about my job offer in San Francisco, but I don’t. Mason has just uprooted his entire life to start anew in Spruce Crossing—and a big part of that reason was for me. He might feel betrayed if I tell him how seriously I’m considering this job offer.

“I don’t know,” I say evasively.

“I don’t believe you,” he replies. “You just aren’t telling me what’s wrong. This is about Ava, isn’t it?”

I sit up straighter. “What about her?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Christian. Even your mom knows you’ve been seeing her. She was gossiping about it with Mia’s mom.”

I groan and rub my temple. Is nothing sacred in this town? “We’re friends,” I say quickly—too quickly.

Mason snorts. “Uh, huh.”

I wish I hadn’t texted him now. “Never mind, Mason. On second thought, I am tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Just tell her how you feel about her, man,” Mason responds. “You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take!”

Rolling my eyes, I bid my best friend good night and drop my head back onto the pillow. And suddenly, the day’s events catch up with me, and I’m asleep before my mind can spiral again.

My eyes popopen before my alarm goes off. This is odd for me, because I always have to drag myself out of bed unhappily and into the shower before I down my first cup of coffee. Today, however, I’m out the door ahead of schedule, and I make my way to Frontier Street just as Ava and Rupert are returning from their morning walk.

Her pretty caramel eyes pop to see my Suburban parked at the curb in front of her house.

“What are you doing here, Christian?” she asks curiously, but I catch the gleam of interest in her eyes.

“You left your car downtown,” I remind her.

“I know. I told you I’d walk and get it,” she replies as Rupert lunges for me. My hand absently moves to pet the dog. Rupert licks my fingers happily as my smile fades at Ava’s expression.

“I thought maybe we could grab breakfast first,” I offer.

Ava shakes her head. “I really need to get into the bakery early to deal with the orders,” she says firmly. “I’m sorry.”

My heart sinks at the obvious brush-off, but I don’t push it, backing away with a forced smile on my face.

“No problem,” I lie, retreating to my car. “Don’t forget to give Rupert those drops.”

Her light brown eyes rest on me, and I see the sadness and regret as she nods. “I already tried them. You’re right. They work really well. Thanks for bringing them.”

Stifling a sigh, I unlock my car and slip into the driver’s seat, waving goodbye as Rupert releases a small whimper of despair, but I don’t look back as I pull away from the curb and head toward my practice, feeling disheartened.

Even the cheerful Christmas décor doesn’t lift my spirits by the time I park behind my veterinary office and head inside. A familiar sense of anxiousness overtakes me as I enter the building, the scent of oatmeal, shampoo, and wet fur tickling my nostrils.

The squawk of a bird from the wildlife section captures my attention, and I head toward the secure area left of the reception area to check on the overnight guests. A hawk with a broken wing glowers at me from behind a set of bars, his beady eyes malicious as he releases another noise. He’s the only wildlife visitor I have right now, the fox was released because she healed up perfectly.

Slowly, I open the cage, and he tries to peck my hand, but I’m careful, dodging his attack as I check his injury. He’s healing well, thankfully. He’s been in my care for over a week.

“You’ll be free soon, buddy,” I promise him, feeling his sense of entrapment a little too deeply as I shut him back into the cage. He screams at me again.

The bell out front dings, announcing a visitor, and I retrace my steps toward the lobby, where a young woman with a cat carrier stands.

I begin my day as usual, a flock of feathers and fur bustling through my examination room with typical ailments and complaints, but Ava remains in the back of my mind, the thought of her depressing me. Her behavior is understandable. She hasn’t come to Spruce Crossing looking for romance. And I shouldn’t be looking for it, either.

There’s confirmation of this when my phone rings at noon, just as I’m washing up for lunch. The California number is becoming commonplace now, and I groan aloud, drying my hands before answering it. “Christian Hargrove.”

“Dr. Hargrove.”

“Hi. I thought we had an agreement to speak after the holidays,” I sigh. “Isn’t that what we said?”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, that is how we left it,” the headhunter agrees. “I won’t keep you, but I’m calling to inform you that an additional thirty thousand dollars has been added to your annual offer if you’re willing to sign on to start in January.”

I gasp aloud before I can stop myself. “Thirty thousand?” I choke. “On top of the original offer?”

“Only if you can come to San Francisco by the first week of January. Of course, Beatty Animal Hospital will handle all of your moving costs and assist with housing.”

I have to sit down on the exam table, my body trembling with excitement. “Wow.”

My mind is all over the place as I consider the offer I finally gave myself time to read, and I understand why they’re so desperate to have me. All my experience in handling wildlife has worked to my advantage.

“Is that suitable for you, Dr. Hargrove?”

My mind immediately turns to Ava for some reason.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I told you I needed the month of December to think about it.”

“I’m afraid this offer is only valid short-term, Dr. Hargrove,” the headhunter informs me. “I don’t mean to put pressure on you, but the clinic really requires an answer, or they’ll offer the job to the next candidate. I’ve held off on this as long as I can.”

My eyes dart around the familiar room, the posters on the wall reminiscent of my father and grandfather. Nothing in here is mine—even though I own the practice. I didn’t even pick out the tacky pet-themed Christmas decorations on the tree.

But nothing in California would be mine, either. I’d be working for someone else. It would just be more money.

Is that enough?

“Are you still there, Dr. Hargrove?”

“I’m here,” I reply slowly. “I’m processing.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need,” he says unironically.

I roll my eyes, biting on my lower lip. I don’t need to be here anymore. Mom needed me when Dad died, but that was years ago. A new vet could come in now and take over the practice while I put down roots somewhere else and start somewhere new with a big, fat bank account. Maybe I could even make enough money and start up my practice out there?—

The headhunter clears his throat on the other end of the phone, and I grimace.

“Let me call you back in an hour,” I say.

“Dr. Hargrove?—”

“You agreed to give me until after the holidays,” I remind him sharply. “Now you’re putting me on the spot. All I’m asking for is an hour.”

A deep sigh fills my ear as I push myself off the exam table. “One hour, Dr. Hargrove, but if you keep putting off an answer, I’m afraid Beatty’s will start looking elsewhere for a vet.”

“Noted,” I grumble, unappreciative of the naked threat.

I hang up before he can say anything else and grab my coat from behind the door, heading out into the lobby to inform my staff that I’m taking lunch.

But before I go, I study each of their faces, poring over their cell phones. No one is particularly interested in my comings and goings as they banter back and forth with one another, between appointments. They won’t miss me if I go. They can barely tell me from my father, I bet.

An icy wind has picked up since this morning, blowing snow all over the roads, and I pull the collar of my coat up around my ears, wishing I’d brought my scarf with me as I slip my gloves over my fingers.

I take my usual route toward Main Street, a fusion of annoyance and wistfulness twisting through me as I take in the same houses and shops. Most of these places have been here my whole life.

Stalking past Bennet’s Hardware, Mr. Bennet’s eldest son, Ethan, sweeps the snow squall off the sidewalk as I pass. We flash each other quick smiles as I move on. Even though he’s familiar to me, the two of us attending high school together, we’ve never been close.

A bell rings, catching my attention, and an overgrown elf leers at me from a pot filled with money.

“Can you help with a donation to the Spruce Crossing Community Center?” she asks sweetly.

I nod, digging my wallet out of the back pocket of my jeans, and toss a five into the see-through donation bin before wandering on, another blast of cold snaking down my neck. My head raises as I glimpse a stream of dark hair, Ava’s back slipping into Sweet Treats just up ahead.

“Ava!” I call out before I can stop myself. I look around, but no one is paying any attention to me, couples walking arm-in-arm along Main Street, hurrying to get indoors to warm themselves.

I forsake the Maple Leaf Diner today and head toward the bakery behind Ava. As soon as I open the door, the bouquet of cinnamon and peppermint overtakes me, my eyes fixing on the elegant glass display in front of me.

Ava is nowhere in sight, but her helper, Carlie, stands behind the counter. “Hi, Dr. Hargrove!”

“Hi, Carlie.” I nod admiringly at the gingerbread men and freshly baked bread loaves piled prettily on the racks behind the counter. The cases are fully stocked with sprinkled cookies, cinnamon cakes, twisted crullers, and iced cupcakes. The store is immaculate, the softest tones of a cheery Christmas song spilling from the mounted speakers in the corners.

Amanda would be so proud if she walked in here right now.

“You guys have been busy, huh?” I comment, looking around appreciatively.

“Ava’s been trying new recipes. She’s really good!”

“I can see that. Is she around?”

Carlie glances over her shoulder and purses her lips when she looks back at me. “She is, but I don’t think I should disturb her. She’s working on stuff for the competition, and it’s getting down to crunch time.”

I hesitate, remembering what Ava said earlier that morning. “Can you ask if she wants to have a quick break for lunch with me?”

The young woman visibly swallows and nods quickly, disappearing into the back as I turn to look around the front of the shop. I notice Ava has put up the smaller tree in the bakery’s corner, but it still doesn’t have any decorations on it.

Footsteps have me turning around, and I smile expectantly, but my smile fades as I see Carlie is alone, her face shadowed. I already know what the answer is without her saying a word. “I’m sorry, Dr. Hargrove. She says she’s too busy.”

Disappointment seizes me, my chest tightening as I nod curtly, but I keep the smile on my face. “Understood,” I say brightly. “But I don’t think I can walk out of here without buying something. Everything in here looks so good, and my mom loves gingerbread. Can I trouble you for a few of those gingerbread men?”

Carlie exhales, nodding with relief that I’m not pushing the issue. “Of course, Dr. Hargrove. How many?”

“I’ll take all of them,” I decide.

She turns and hurries to get my order as I try to sneak a glance into the kitchen, but I can’t see Ava from where I’m standing. I wonder if she is purposely avoiding me, or if she really is overwhelmed with the competition. In either scenario, she’s spoken. She doesn’t have time for me.

Maybe I’m just clinging to a memory of another time and place when we were younger. This was probably never meant to be.

I guess she’s made her choice, I think sadly, accepting the bag of freshly baked cookies from Carlie and paying for my order. Thanking the young woman, I head back into the blistery cold and pull out my cell phone. This time, I don’t hesitate, but when I call, my voice fails me for half a second.

“Hello?” the voice answers. “Dr. Hargrove?”

“Yes,” I reply. “I thought about the offer.”

“Do you have an answer?”

“Yes. I’m taking the job. I’ll be in San Francisco the first week of January. Just send along the specifics.”