Curves with Benefits (Small Town Holidays #7)

Chapter 1

Sela

Just let me find my path in life. And for once, let me have a good birthday before I turn thirty. Please.

My eyes were shut tight, and I clasped the quarter in my fist, pressing it to my chest as I sent my wish, or maybe it was a prayer, out into the world.

The cool November breeze sharpened, a reminder that autumn was in full swing and my choice to skip a jacket was yet another questionable decision.

I opened my eyes and shook off the thought, staring at the newly erected fountain in the park, built especially for the weeklong Thanksgiving celebration.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself. I balanced the quarter on my thumbnail, flicked it, and watched as it arched high before landing with an almost anticlimactic splash in the water. The wish was sent, but instead of feeling hopeful, I felt nothing.

I knew part of it was the holiday blues.

My birthday falling on Thanksgiving always made it a little melancholy.

I had to share my day with the entire world, which usually meant I was forgotten in the mix of turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce.

This year, I would turn thirty, which gave the week even more significance.

Okay, and maybe it had a little something to do with being dumped recently for no good reason.

Not because I was a prude in bed, not because I was too clingy or too aloof.

No, it was all because I was a hometown girl and content with it.

Maybe it was shortsighted to build all my hopes and dreams in Holiday Grove, the very definition of a small town with few opportunities for those who didn’t know what they wanted to be when they grew up.

But I liked it here. I was comfortable here.

I knew I couldn’t be a waitress forever, I knew that.

Right now, though, I liked working at Ol’ St. Nick’s Pub.

The tips were good most of the year, and I was good at it.

The only other thing I’d ever really been good at was being hot.

Another thing, like waitressing, that wouldn’t last forever.

No more sadness. I couldn’t be sad forever, and I wasn’t the type of girl to sit around wallowing.

I wasn’t a wallower, but it felt like I’d been doing nothing but wallowing for the past couple of weeks.

Not in the sad, listening-to-emo-music-on-repeat way, not even blasting girl rock and singing along at the top of my lungs.

No, it was far less dramatic than that, which was how I ended up at the fountain early on a chilly Sunday morning. I’d just felt off.

Not my usual bubbly self. My smiles didn’t come as easily, and I faked them more than ever. It was an insidious bleakness, the kind that wrapped its bony arms around me and held tight, leaving me cold, hard, and off-kilter.

I didn’t do off-kilter.

Not ever, and I didn’t like it.

“What a gorgeous fountain.” The voice was deep and smooth, and more importantly, unfamiliar.

It wasn’t shocking to hear an unfamiliar voice.

After all, Holiday Grove was one of Colorado’s tourist destinations, after the big cities, of course.

Our nonstop holiday celebrations had put us on the map, and tourists came through to enjoy the Silver Bells mountains, the holiday-themed businesses, outdoor activities, and thanks to Lee Lancaster, a luxury spa and resort.

I looked up from the quarter that sank to the bottom of the fountain and into the most alluring gray eyes I’d ever seen.

He was beautiful. No, "beautiful" was too smooth a word for what I saw: his sharp jaw, the faint scruff highlighting his high cheekbones. They drew my gaze to his thick, pink lips, the kind that promised long, dream-worthy kisses. His wavy black hair was a little long and brushed against the long gray wool jacket he wore. I couldn’t see his body beneath the jacket except for broad shoulders, and his height, which I estimated to be well over six feet based on my own five-and-a-half-foot frame.

Shake it off, woman. I did just that, shaking off the effect this handsome man had on me, and probably every woman with a beating heart, and found my smile. “It really is stunning, isn’t it? It’s a new addition for the Week of Giving Thanks.” There, that sounded normal, right?

He smiled in return, and I really wished he hadn’t. The dark and brooding thing was hot, but the smile? Panty-melting.

Breathe, I reminded myself just before I let out a long, slow breath.

“Did you make a wish?” His tone wasn’t mocking, so I didn’t take offence.

“I did. Do you need a coin to make your own wish?”

The gorgeous man pulled his lips into his mouth as if biting back a smile. “No, I have my own coin. Thanks.” His gaze flicked down to the water and then back up at me. “What did you wish for?”

I should’ve wished for you. No, that was wrong. I wasn’t wishing for men or relationships anymore. “If I tell you, it won’t come true. Isn’t that how wishes work?”

His broad shoulders rose and fell casually. “I’m not sure. Can’t remember the rules of wish-making.”

Damn it. I was done with men. My mind was made up, and I wouldn’t be distracted. No matter how handsome and charming. No matter how sexy. No, damn it, he’s not sexy. Just an average-looking Joe. “That’s the standard rule, as I remember it.”

He nodded and rubbed his leather-gloved hands over his jaw. “Maybe if you share it, it’ll be like having one of those accountability buddies to encourage you to make your wish come true.”

He was too charming by half, that much was for sure.

Still, I wanted to share my wish with this stranger.

I didn’t know him and probably wouldn’t see him beyond this week, so he was perfectly safe to confide in.

“I wished that I could find my path in life, which sounds ridiculous now that I’m saying it out loud.

I’m almost thirty years old. Of course, I should have a path already.

” My face burned hot with embarrassment.

His gray eyes studied me for a long time.

My heart pounded hard and fast, but I held his gaze and refused to look away.

“Some people pick their path early and stick with it because they don’t want to feel as if they’ve wasted their time chasing a dream they didn’t want.

They end up unhappy and make everyone around them unhappy.

” He watched me a little longer before his gaze locked onto my mouth. “Be kinder to yourself.”

Damn it, no. I was done with men. “Thank you for that.”

The smile he gifted me this time was sweet, and I felt something I refused to name settle in my belly. “You’re welcome.” Those grey eyes were mesmerizing, stormy with just a hint of shine that gave them a silver quality.

“I’m Sela,” I finally said when I found my voice. “I don’t know you. Are you visiting family for the holiday?”

His black brows rose. “You know everyone in town?”

“Just about,” I answered with a shrug. “I don’t know you.”

He said nothing for a long time, just kept staring at me as if trying to yank my deepest, darkest secrets from my body. He licked his lips—good god—and then walked around the fountain so we were face to face. “I’m Brock.” He held out a large hand with short, clipped nails and waited patiently.

Brock. It was such a masculine name. Rich and masculine. Out of my league. Damn it, there is no league! “It’s nice to meet you, Brock.” I put my hand in his and watched as his hand consumed mine, focusing on that to avoid the blazing hot electricity that arced between us.

“Nice to meet you, Sela. That’s such a unique name.” He held my hand in his for longer than was appropriate, but I couldn’t bring myself to remove it. “You wouldn’t happen to be a realtor, would you?”

I laughed. “I’m not. Sorry, just a waitress.”

“Nobody is just anything.” His words charmed the panties right off me. I would have handed them over right then and there if it wasn’t so cold outside.

“Krista Jensen,” I said and finally pulled my hand from his to grab my phone. “She can help you find a place to rent or to buy.”

Amusement sparkled in his eyes. “So you really do know everyone. You know Lee?”

“Lancaster? Yeah, his resort just opened on the edge of town.” It was an odd question. “I don’t know him well enough to get you an introduction or anything like that.”

He laughed. “No need. We’re old friends.”

Of course. That explained the expensive-looking clothes and that air of sophistication that surrounded him. “Of course. Good luck with your search.”

“Can I buy you a coffee or tea?”

Good god, yes! I shook my head. Coffee was the precursor to dinner, which was the appetizer for sex and love and an eventual breakup. “No, but we can walk together to the coffee shop, and I’ll get my second dose of caffeine for the day.”

His dark brows dipped in confusion. “Why can’t I buy you a coffee?”

I could have given him a flirty answer, but I wanted to be honest and real.

I was tired of trying to fit myself into what I thought the man du jour wanted me to be.

Now, I would just be me. If someone didn’t like it, that was their problem.

“Because,” I sighed and motioned to his whole body, “you’re gorgeous, kind, and really sweet, plus you seem rich and successful.

I think—no, I know—you have heartbreak written all over you. ”

He froze, stunned by my words. “I’d say thank you, but that feels decidedly uncomplimentary.”

I laughed at his honest assessment. “It is a compliment. You’d be very easy to fall for, and I’m not doing that anymore.

” I patted his arm and put on my best smile, which faltered when I gripped the lump of stone posing as a bicep.

“But I would like to have a coffee with you that I purchase myself. As friends.”

He flashed a relieved smile and stood closer. “I like that. Lead the way.”

This was good. Really good. The universe tempted me, but I resisted. I could do this.