Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Jarrod
Holy fucking shit.
Like crap on a cracker.
Stay calm, for fuck’s sake.
He might not even recognize you
Even though you sure as shit recognize him.
I smiled at the lovely woman before me with her long auburn hair and her lovely brown eyes. Her husband stood just behind her.
Like me, he was a big guy—tall, muscular, and fit. His dark skin matched my own, only where my smile was now forced, his appeared genuine. He touched his wife’s shoulder.
Well, I assumed wife. They wore matching wedding bands, after all. She’d introduced herself as Loriana, the librarian, and the gentleman as Mitch.
“What are you thinking?” He gave her a dazzling smile.
“I’m thinking soap for everyone at the library, including Miss Edna.”
“Yes, we can’t forget Miss Edna,” said with clear affection.
“Do you think the male-identifying volunteers would like them?” She picked one up and sniffed it. Her eyes glazed with bliss. “Oh, and I would need to take one to make certain.” She held the lavender soap in her hand.
Crap. Is she going to take that home and only come back if she likes it?
All my scents were amazing. My goat’s milk soaps were popular year-round, but I made the most money working Christmas markets up and down Cedar Valley as well as a few in the suburbs of Vancouver.
Tables were expensive, though, so I had to watch how many I secured.
My first love stepped closer.
The woman turned to him. “Hey, Anderson, great to see you.”
“Lovely to see you too, Loriana.” He pivoted his attention to the much-taller gentleman. “Mitch.”
The height difference between the men was pronounced. But then, Anderson had always been on the short side. Hell, Loriana was a couple of inches taller than him.
“Okay, man’s opinion.” She held a bar of vanilla soap to his nose.
He inhaled deeply and shut his eyes in obvious ecstasy. “Oh yeah, I’d buy all of them.” He opened his dark-brown eyes, and that powerful gaze settled on me.
Okay, he totally remembers.
“That’s the vanilla scent.” I gestured to my table. “I have twelve different scents…” I just couldn’t pull out the sales pitch I normally used.
Loriana nodded, gazing intently at Anderson. “Would you want to receive one of these?”
“As a gift? I’d be thrilled.” He leaned closer. “And not just because I’m a gay man who loves his skin routines.”
Mitch chuckled. “As a straight man, I say the gift is pretty awesome as well. I like that the scent is subtle. Likely won’t trigger a migraine for anyone with scent allergies.”
Lorianna grinned. “You’re brilliant.”
“Uh, I try.”
Without an iota of doubt, I was certain the man was blushing. With his dark skin, though, the flush wasn’t visible.
“Okay.” Loriana furrowed her brow. “That’s Marnie, Johanna…” She started counting on her fingers. “Oh, might as well make it twenty.”
“Because any leftovers will definitely be put to good use.” Mitch kissed her cheek. “I’d be happy to find one under my tree.”
Her lovely eyes lit. “Oh. I love it when you’re direct.” She turned her attention back to me. “Two of each and three of the lavender.”
“I have twelve scents—” She said twenty…right?
She waved me off. “I am certain I can find more people to share with. A couple of the patrons are lonely this time of year.”
“Well, if you buy a dozen, you get one free.” Since I rarely sold a dozen at a time, I didn’t have to worry about that often. The offer was on the sign, but most people either didn’t see it or didn’t feel inclined to take me up on that.
“Okay. I’ll take these two. One lavender and one…” She eyed Anderson. “Lemon?”
“He’d prefer vanilla.” I cleared my throat.
Three people turned to me with varying quizzical looks.
Loriana’s gaze shot back and forth between Anderson and me. “Well, that’s interesting. And if I didn’t have tons of shopping left to do, I might consider demanding to know stuff that you might not want to share.”
Mitch chuckled. “Watch out. She considers herself the matchmaking queen of Mission City.”
My eyes widened, but Anderson’s glittered. “Yes, all those successes.”
Loriana pouted. “I try.”
Mitch kissed her cheek. “We know you do.” He turned his attention to me. “Twenty-four with a bonus lavender for my wife and vanilla for our friend.” He pivoted to Anderson. “If you don’t mind Loriana’s…interference.”
His smile turned a little bashful. “Yeah, that would be okay.”
I took the cloth bag Mitch handed me and put the twenty-five bars of soap in it. I handed the vanilla to Loriana.
She grinned. Then pivoted and handed it to Anderson. “I want credit for this later.”
“Credit for what?” A tall, handsome older gentleman with piercing blue eyes approached. He nudged Anderson. “What’d I miss? Nice to see you, Loriana. Mitch.”
“Oh, Damien. Nice to see you too. How’s your husband, Shaw?”
No missing the emphasis on husband. Just in case I needed to know, Anderson was single. How the hell no one had snapped him up in the last seventeen years was beyond me—but here he was, evidently on his own.
“Do you take credit cards?” Mitch handed me one.
“Yeah, thanks.” I calculated the transaction, entered the amount into the card reader, and let Mitch tap. Once I had the confirmation, I handed him the receipt. “My farm address is on there. I’m just over in Chilliwack. If anything’s not to your liking, I offer a full refund.”
Mitch gripped the bag. “I seriously doubt that’ll be an issue.”
Loriana presented the bar of soap to Anderson. “Later.”
He grinned and accepted the gift.
Within a moment, the couple were gone.
Leaving me face-to-face with the love of my life and the guy who was apparently…his friend?
I cleared my throat. “Nice to see you again.” Because clearly my knowing his favorite scent was vanilla—and him not arguing—meant I remembered him.
He offered a soft smile. “And you.” He turned to his friend. “Damien, this is Jarrod. We went to college together. I was studying theater, and he was studying IT.” He turned back to me, the question clear in his eyes.
How did you go from studying IT in Vancouver to selling goat’s milk soap at a Christmas Market in Mission City and running a goat farm in Chilliwack?
Since I knew nothing about what had happened to him in the intervening years for him, I didn’t ask. Instead, I smiled. “My family convinced me to return to the farm. I do some computer stuff on the side, but my focus is the goat farm.” I gestured. “And making goat-milk products.”
Damien stepped forward to grasp the lemon-zing scented soap.
“Good for a wake-me-up in the morning.” I offered my salesperson smile.
He grinned back. “My daughter Paget could use this. She’s hard to wake.” He pivoted to Anderson. “You know, this would really be good for Adele.”
“Adele?” Because I was too damn curious for my own good.
Anderson met my gaze. “My daughter.”
He had a… My brain stuttered. Then shifted back into gear. Of course, he had a daughter. The world hadn’t stayed suspended for seventeen years.
Well, for one of us, anyway.
“She’s actually my niece. But I adopted her a few months after her mother, my sister, died. I consider her my own in every way that matters.”
“I see.” Because I did. That was exactly something Anderson might do. “Uh, how old is she? You said her name was Adele?”
He nodded. “She’s seventeen.” His gaze held mine.
“How old was she when her mother died?” An incredibly personal question, but an image was forming in my mind. A notion too painful to contemplate.
“Three months. I lost my sister almost two decades ago.” He swallowed. “That kind of pain never leaves, you know?” He turned to his friend. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean—”
Damien placed his hand on Anderson’s chest. “I miss my wife every day. That loss will, as you say, never leave. But I found a way to move on. A great husband, his friends—” He tapped Anderson’s nose. A rather intimate gesture for two men who were just friends.
But then, who was I to judge? I had no close friends.
Anderson pivoted back to me. “Three lemon zings and two more vanilla. Where in Chilliwack?” He asked the question casually as he pulled out his wallet.
If I hadn’t needed the money, I would’ve given them to him for free.
“Is it okay if I give them as gifts?” Anderson met Damien’s gaze. “Oh, better make it four of each. I almost forgot Shaw’s housekeeper.”
Damien laughed. “Oh, she’ll be tickled you remembered her. Yes, it’s fine you’re giving these as gifts. I’m certain I can find something else. Too bad you’ve already got one for yourself—I could have bought it for you.”
“He loves homemade maple fudge.” I wrote out a receipt for Anderson. Then I collected the soaps and put them in the bag he held. The one Damien had given him earlier.
“Homemade maple fudge.” Damien licked his lips. “I doubt it’d survive until Christmas because that sounds decadent.”
“You can buy some for yourself and some for Anderson.” My friend Shea made the stuff, and the concoction was truly divine.
I had to resist walking past her table because I could easily spend all my profits on her treats.
Which was good neither for my bottom line, not my waistline.
I didn’t want to worry about these things.
At thirty-nine, though, I was starting to realize time wasn’t on my side.
Right. I entered the amount in the card reader.
Anderson tapped his card. “Where in Chilliwack?”
I swallowed as I handed him the receipt.
He met my gaze.
“Uh, near Chilliwack Mountain Road.”
“I’m going to head over to the fudge stand. If I buy enough to satisfy myself, then I can get some for you as well.” Damien rubbed his flat stomach. “I’m liking this homemade-gift thing.”
“Yeah.” Anderson continued to hold my gaze.
“Oh, there’s a guy who sells the most amazing pumpkin pies. And another guy who sells sparkling apple cider.” I considered. “You said you have daughters?”
“Three between the two of us.” Damien grinned. “Making me grayer by the minute.” His eyes showed real warmth and affection.
“Well, my friend Henry makes glass fairy figurines. They’re…unique. Maybe not for older teenagers, though.”
“We’re looking for unique gifts. Not everything has to be practical.
” His grin turned pensive. “Our girls have just about anything they could need—they’re really lucky.
We all are. That’s one of the reasons we’re going with handmade this year.
Well, handmade by someone. We wanted to focus on the act of giving rather than the amount being spent.
Your soaps are perfect.” He turned to Anderson.
“I’ll meet up with you in a bit. I’m going to try to keep the other gifts a secret, and you’re the worst secret keeper ever. ”
No, he’s not. He kept my secret all those years ago. Has likely kept them all this time—if he’s even thought about me.
Anderson grinned unrepentantly. “Is it my fault everyone comes to me?”
Damien’s laugh lines showed when he guffawed.
“Oh, it’s good to see some things never change.
You’ll survive Adele going to university.
I’ll hate it if Paget or Sedona—or both—choose to move away.
But I’ll survive.” He turned back to me.
“Fairies, eh? I like the sound of that. You two get caught up.” He left.
And I wanted to speak to Anderson—if I could even find the words—but a line had formed, and I really needed the money.
As if understanding, he stood to the side.
Customer after customer came.
Still, he stayed close.
I thought I was about to get a breather when a woman with striking white-blonde hair and the most exquisite eyes I’d ever seen stepped forward. I’d have called them amber. They were definitely unique.
“Okay.” She grinned. “My friend Loriana told me about you, and I just have to grab a few bars. I promised something unique for my friends Tarah and Allie and they’re just going to die over these. So, uh, five? One lavender and you can pick the other scents.”
I couldn’t figure out how she went from naming two friends and came out with five, but I certainly wasn’t going to complain.
As I rang her up, she noticed Anderson. “Sheesh. You’re quiet. I find that a change.” She winked.
He grinned back.
She snapped her fingers. “Clay’s going to sell out of his pumpkin spice again this year if you don’t race over there. Felicia loves it.”
“How do you know what spices Shaw’s housekeeper uses?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Because she was talking to Remy at the grocery store and lamenting the lack of spice selection. Remy bought some of the pumpkin spice here last year.” Her brow furrowed.
“Or at least I think that’s the order. Anyway, you know how this town is.
Someone told me that they told Felicia, and that person suggested to me that it would make a good gift.
I’m not close enough to Shaw or Damien to make the suggestion—”
I blinked. Chilliwack was about three times larger than Mission City, but I couldn’t fathom everyone here knew everyone else.
“Rielle, you’re a sweetheart.” Anderson squeezed her arm. “Yes, I’ll run over to see Clay. Do you know if Ashton’s with him?”
Rielle rolled her eyes. “Where you find one…”
“Right.” He pivoted his gaze to me. “I’ll be back. I promise.”
We’ll see. You said that once before…