Chapter 5
Aiden
It should be awkward, taking a strange woman on the most mundane errands known to mankind.
The car ride to the local hardware store, however, is anything but awkward.
For someone who is bad at small talk, Sylvie tells me all about her friends with the air of a practiced storyteller.
It’s much, much better than small talk.
“Okay, so Ivy is like, one of the most successful people I know, and she built it all on her own, right?” She pauses to take a breath, shooting me a glance as I try to keep my eyes on the road.
The New Hopewell volunteer crews are out in force today, getting all the trappings of fall and Halloween in place before our biggest tourist weeks really get underway.
“Right,” I agree. “You said she has a candy store?” I shake my head in both appreciation and surprise at the gritty survival of such a wholesome and niche market’s success. All hail the entrepreneur.
“Right, so she makes candy, like, she makes it all herself. Well, she has employees now. And she has like, the slickest online storefront, and her whole schtick is sort of witchy, magical candies. Who knew? I mean, she did, obviously, but she sells like crazy. And she’s just a wonderful friend, but she’s been so weird about me moving here. ”
She pauses, and I chance a glance over at her, her brows furrowed as she ponders her friend’s so-called weirdness. “She said something so weird about finding bones.”
“What?” The question bursts out of me, and I huff a laugh at the sheer bizarreness of that comment.
“I think she misunderstood me. I was talking about the bookstore having good bones.”
“It does. It definitely does. You know, it sounds like your friend would fit in here. Her candy store, too.”
“She’ll never leave the coast,” she shakes her head as I pull into a free spot near a cart return.
The hardware store isn’t exactly in New Hopewell, but it’s close enough that it’s made life easier for all of us.
“Her sisters both have their shops nearby, and their family has lived in that town for generations.”
“How did you meet her?” I ask, invested in Sylvie’s strange friend in spite of myself.
“College. She was studying plants. Botany, whatever. She was one of my suitemates. Weird that she went into chocolates, right? She says that science is a big part of understanding candy, and if she’d studied chemistry, that would make more sense to me, but whatever.”
“And her sisters have their own shops?”
“Weird, right? You’d think they’d all work together. Maybe that’s reductive of me, though. Hm. They’re all really different. One’s a music teacher, so she took over their town’s music store at some point, and the other one is a mechanic.”
“That is all very different,” I agree with a chuckle, getting out of the car and stretching my legs.
She follows my lead, and a bit of guilt washes over me as I realize I didn’t have time to help her out of her side.
Not that this is a date.
It’s not—I’m just helping her get settled. Normal New Hopewell volunteer committee things.
And this way I don’t have to touch a pumpkin.
Sylvie comes up beside me, pulling her blonde hair up into a messy pile on top of her head, taking in the hardware store.
“Y’all don’t mess around when it comes to Halloween, huh?” Her head tilts, and I follow her gaze.
Huge cardboard boxes overflow with pumpkins in every shape and size imaginable, including some I never would have imagined. One pile is a weird blend of orange, with huge green warty growths all over them.
Dried cornstalks are tied by the dozen in another enclosure, and planters exploding with maroon and orange flowers are shoved into every possible space.
“Yeah, our fall festival is a huge draw for tourists. Good for business. You could plan your opening for around then.”
“The way thinking about being ready to open has me ready to break out in hives…” She scratches her neck and I snort, then grow alarmed.
“Are you really going to break out in hives?” I am so not prepared to take her or anyone to the hospital. Hanging out at the hospital is way beyond the purview of my volunteer responsibilities.
I step closer to her, putting my hands on her upper arms and tilting in, inspecting her neck for the tell-tale bumps. Her skin is creamy and smooth, slightly freckled along her collarbones, and when I inhale, I catch the mouthwatering scent of marshmallows.
Marshmallows and something woody, like a campfire, and something floral I can’t quite put my finger on.
I inhale deeply, closing my eyes for a fraction of a second, losing myself in the way her arms feel in my hands, the way she smells—and then I open my eyes, realizing I’m being a total fucking weirdo.
Her eyes are wide, staring up at me in what must be alarm, her mouth just slightly opened, like she’s surprised.
It would take nothing at all to close the distance between us and kiss her.
“I don’t see any hives,” I tell her in a husky voice.
“That’s because I was joking. Are you okay?”
Immediately, I drop my hands, forcing a little laugh. “Sorry. I was worried.”
“Uh, that’s okay. Apparently everyone is worried about me today.” She shrugs her shoulders, pursing her lips.
I have got to stop looking at her lips.
Brushing my hands against my thighs, as if that would get rid of the feel of her skin against my palms, I set off towards the entrance.
I only look back once to make sure she’s following.
The grin on my lips surprises me—it’s a response to the one I see on hers.