Chapter 2
2
HOLLY
T he winter breeze whips my hair into my face, so I shove it more firmly under my hat. Maybe I should have waited for James to arrive before coming outside. But since he’s doing me a huge favor, I don’t want to hold him up for even a second.
What kind of guy volunteers to spend several hours with a total stranger? Although Maggie did say that he’s really sweet. And knowing her, she laughingly bullied him into it.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I see I’ve missed a call from James. Shoot . Before I can listen to the voicemail, a big black pickup pulls up in front of me, and James gives me a friendly wave from behind the wheel before jumping out.
The man is seriously handsome. Maggie showed me a family photo, but it didn’t do him any justice whatsoever. It’s not just the rich brown eyes, short, tidy beard, and classic rugged profile. It’s his…presence. There’s something electrifying about him.
As he strides toward me, I’m reminded of one other important point: he’s at least six foot three, broad shouldered, and…well, takes up a lot of space, put it that way. I’m pretty fine-boned already, but James makes me feel positively tiny.
“Ready to go?” His smile is pure sunshine. Not the stereotypical grumpy mountain man loner type at all.
“Yes, thank you.” He’s already placing my suitcase and duffle bag carefully into the back seat. “Oh, you can just throw those into the truck bed?—”
“No way. If we hit snow, your stuff will get soaked. There’s plenty of room back here.” He offers his hand to help me up the big step and makes sure I’m buckled in safely.
“What was your voicemail about?” I ask as soon as he gets in. “I didn’t have a chance to listen.”
He points to two large cups in the holders between us. “Cream and sugar are in the bag so you can doctor it up any way you like. But did you want hazelnut or chocolate peppermint coffee?”
That’s so thoughtful. “Oh – I’m fine with either.”
He fixes me with a serious look. “Holly. This is holiday coffee from the semi-legendary Happy Home Bakery. I really like both. Please, pick your favorite.”
“Thanks.” I choose the hazelnut and add some cream before he pulls out into the road.
“Perfect. I like the peppermint one better.”
He laughs at my open-mouthed gasp. “Maggie said you’re an honest guy. Now I know you’re nothing but a liar.”
His rich brown eyes flick to me for just a second before he merges onto the highway. “Not a liar. I gently coax shy people into admitting the truth, how’s that?”
“Fair enough.” After a few sips, I rummage in my massive shoulder bag for a plastic container. “I made these in case we were driving in the morning. Breakfast cookies.”
“I will have breakfast any time of day,” he chuckles, reaching out as I place one in his hand. “Wow, these are thick.”
“Yeah. Oatmeal cookie batter but in muffin trays, so they rise straight up.”
“Cookie muffins? Cookuffins?” He takes a bite, then makes an appreciative mmm sound. After he swallows, I’m delighted to see that he’s legit beaming. “These are spectacular! Thank you.”
“Maggie said you really love eating. Are you one of those fancy foodie types?”
James shrugs one of his thick shoulders in my direction. “I’ve always loved food. Doesn’t have to be fancy. The entire ritual of eating, bringing people together to share sustenance.” His eyes flick to me with a grin. “Of course, stolen food always tastes the best. When I’m making my rounds, I occasionally liberate a few fries or a cookie from friends. A bit of unexpected flavor at a random time of the day is a nice surprise for the palate, don’t you think?”
“You must work out a lot if you’re eating all the time.”
“I burn it off walking around three hours a day.”
“Holy. Do you really need to patrol the streets constantly?”
His rich chuckle makes the most of his deep register. “It’s part of the small-town vibe. People like to think I’m everywhere. It adds to the atmosphere, knowing the local cop is nearby for any problem that might come up. Plus, it keeps me close to any fries that need liberating.”
“How many problems are there in a day?”
“Almost none,” he grins proudly. “But I’m there if there is.” He takes another bite, nodding. “Oh yeah. Nutmeg and clove. Perfect with oatmeal. And pear juice instead of sugar to sweeten them. Good call.”
“That’s…really precise.”
It feels like James is about to say something else, but just then he has to slow down suddenly as a logging truck lags on a hill. After a few minutes, he asks, “So… You’re house-sitting for the holidays?”
“Yes. A friend of one of my art teachers is on some weird sabbatical and they have no idea when they’ll be back.”
“Do they have pets?”
“No, but they have some very particular houseplants that apparently can’t be alone for more than a week. Also, there’s a bird feeder to fill regularly. They’re avid birdwatchers, and don’t want their little friends to be disappointed.”
“Birdwatching is big around here,” James nods. “Huge variety of species. We’ve been getting more and more tourists that come specially for them. Even a few full-blown ornithologists.”
I place another cookie in his outstretched hand. “Cool.” I’m not sure whether his fingers only touch mine because of a bump in the road, or whether it was deliberate. Either way, it makes my stomach tingle. James is the sexiest man I’ve ever been this close to. It’s almost scrambling my brain as I try to chat. “Plus, there’s a garage where I can do my crafts.”
“Nice. What do you make?”
Usually when I mention crafting, the only people who ask follow-up questions are fellow crafters – everyone else, their eyes glaze over. James, however, seems genuinely interested.
“I make candles with seasonal things embedded in them. Cloves and cinnamon sticks for fall. Pinecones and orange slices for winter. Holly for the holidays. Flowers for spring, of course. It’s not a lot of money, but I like selling them at craft fairs. Sometimes I find a local store that will take a few batches.”
“You’ll be very popular here. Lots of crafty people.” He gives me a sideways glance. “Not as in shifty. As in knitters and crocheters and more craft fairs than you can shake a stick at.”
My laugh is growing steadily louder the more I relax. “Noted.”
The rest of our drive is a comfortable intermittent stream of chatter, interspersed with long intervals of just staring out at the breathtaking scenery.
James is part of that gorgeous scenery. He must be in his early to mid-thirties, yet we still seem to have a lot in common besides food. Movies and books and strong opinions on if a band should maintain their original name if there are no original members left.
When we roll up to the Austins’ house, I gasp. “Wow. There was a photo, but it did not do the place justice.”
James helps me out, this time holding my hand while resting his other palm on my hip. It feels…not inappropriate in any way. Just like he wants to have an excuse to touch me. Which is perfectly fine in my books. The man is irresistible. I don’t think he could really be interested, though. It must just be friendly flirtation, since we’ve been stuck together for a while.
I retrieve the key from the nook cut into the back of the patio bench and let myself in while James brings in my bags.
He looks around, then slips off his boots. “The house has been unoccupied for a few days, so I’m going to do a quick survey. Just so that in the middle of the night you don’t think you hear somebody in the basement.”
“Wow, thanks.”
I slip off my boots and coat and follow him around for a quick tour of the house. Nothing is remotely out of place, but he still checks every door and window. Then he returns to the front hall, giving me a gentle smile. “This is a very safe town, Holly. And you have my number if anything happens.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“Did they leave you a key for that Jeep out front?”
“Yes. I’ll stock up on groceries tomorrow.”
“But you don’t have any food for tonight.” He strides over to the kitchen, and I can’t help but stare at his surprisingly graceful frame. He opens the fridge, then shuts it again as his nose wrinkles. “Unless you’re into designer mustard, it’s pretty much empty.”
He reaches out his hand and I take it automatically. Funny: everything feels so comfortable with him, but my heart is galloping a million miles a minute.
“The grocery store is closed by now. Why don’t we go for dinner, my treat? There’s a super casual pizza and pasta place.”
“Wow. Um, yes. Thank you.”
“I’ll let you get settled, then text when I’m on my way, okay? Like, two hours or so?”
“Perfect.” I do need some time to chill – he’s such a huge presence that I honestly feel overwhelmed, in a good way.
At the front door, he holds out his arms for a hug. It feels like a safety check. If I give him a brief, polite hug, then he’ll know our dinner tonight is just friendly. But when I look up, there’s a twinkle in his rich brown eyes. He’s hoping for more.
I want more, too. Need more. I can already feel it surging through my body like a wave of energy.
James already makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Stepping into the circle of his arms, I hold him close. Too close to mean anything other than I really like you . Nobody holds a new friend like this. I bury my face in his wide, firm chest, feeling the wall of muscle. Breathing him in, there’s a subtle pine scent, mixed with something else…maybe coconut-based soap?...that’s as sweet as he is.
I feel rather than hear the subtle sigh as his large palm runs down my spine. “You’re lovely, Holly,” he murmurs across the top of my hair. “Looking forward to tonight so much.”
One more quick squeeze, then he’s gone…and I already feel strangely alone. As if he’s the thing that my life has always been missing.
And now that I’ve had a taste of it, I can’t go back to how it was before.