Chapter Seven
HOLLY
“Y ou’re telling me this town is Christmas 24/7?” Rachel asks excitedly.
I called to give her an update on the blog she’s hired me to write, especially since I was getting more of an experience in Candy Cane Creek than I had expected.
I place my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I reach for a cookie. I don’t want to admit how addicted I am to the cookies Rex brought over last night. I also don’t want to admit how much I enjoyed my time with him this morning, which included a stop at Mrs. Claus’ Bakery. I may have bought more cookies than I could reasonably eat in the short time I’m in Candy Cane Creek, but I couldn’t help myself. If anything, the cookies are a good distraction.
If I was eating the cookies and talking to Rachel, then I wasn’t thinking about how much I enjoyed spending time with Rex, and I certainly wasn’t thinking about how I fell on him earlier. Of all the things that could have happened while we were taking a stroll through town, taking a tumble which ended in me landing directly on him was not something that I counted on.
There were too many emotions to deal with there. Too much baggage that needed to be unpacked with the feelings that it brought up. Any time I got physically close to him, I got butterflies in my stomach and my palms got sticky. All things I haven’t felt since Josh. All things I never counted on feeling again.
“Yes. Everything is Christmas, right down to the names of the businesses. Kringle’s Diner and the Candy Cane Cafe. I’m even staying at a dog rescue shelter called ‘Miracle on 30 Woof Street.’”
“Please explain the name of that one,” she says with a laugh.
“The address is thirty Woof Street. You can’t make this stuff up.”
“I love it. This is exactly what I was looking for. Places in B.C. that embody the spirit of Christmas.” Rachel’s voice takes on a dreamy tone as she continues talking.
“If you say so,” I respond flatly, taking another bite of my cookie.
“Tell me more about this dog rescue. How did you end up staying there?”
“It was the weirdest thing. I was walking through town after my car broke down and I ran into the owner. Literally. He spilled the most disgusting sugary coffee I’ve ever smelled all over my new coat.”
Rachel gasped. “Not the Massimo Dutti.”
“The very one.” I take another bite. “Anyway, the one and only inn is full because of all the holiday events, and he offered me his guest house. I only meant to stay the one night, but my car still isn’t ready, and I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Okay, that’s a little romantic. It’s like you’re living in your own romance novel.” Rachel’s dreamy tone only makes my heart rate kick up.
My life most certainly is not a romance novel.
“Please, Rachel. You know how much I don’t like those.”
“That doesn’t make it any less true. Listen, you’ve written for me for a while now, and I like to think we are friends.”
“You know we are.”
“Then believe me when I say I want what’s best for you. Maybe there was a reason you were stuck there longer than you wanted, and it wasn’t just to enjoy some of the holiday spirit you always seem to avoid.”
“Hmph,” I scoff at her, taking another bite of my Santa Claus cookie.
The irony is not lost on me.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I am not leading lady material. Rex is not my leading man. This isn’t a meet cute ending in a happily ever after. This is my life.”
Rachel pauses a moment before she continues. “Is he handsome?”
“Who?” I ask, wiping the delicious crumbs from the side of my mouth.
“The owner of the shelter. Is he handsome? Single?”
“Yes, to both.” I’d be lying if I tried to deny that I found Rex handsome. With his blue eyes, dark hair styled in a messy way only men can pull off. He’s the classic handsome type, if you like a rugged, Christmas sweater wearing lumberjack. “It doesn’t matter because I’m not looking. And he’s not my type, anyway.”
“Well, maybe your ‘type’ isn’t working for you.”
I think about that, and how Josh played nicely into the category of what I considered that to be. Josh is clean cut, moderately handsome, and always dressed in a suit and tie. His casual look was chino pants and a polo. Now that I think of it, I don’t think I ever saw him in jeans. Days at the beach or meeting friends for drinks downtown consisted of him dressed in business casual. I never saw him with a beard or even a five o’clock shadow. I always wondered if he kept a shaving kit on him at all times, since he never allowed for facial hair.
I don’t think Josh was ever relaxed. He was always ‘on call’ for his job as a newspaper editor.
“It doesn’t matter what I think, anyway. I’m going to be out of this town as soon as my car’s fixed. I’ll be back in Vancouver before you can say ‘Ho, Ho, Ho.’”
“Did you just make a Santa Claus reference? Maybe these towns are wearing off on you after all!” Rachel joked.
A knock at the door saves me from answering her.
“Rachel, I have to go.” I start to walk to the door as I rush my friend and boss off the phone. “We’re going to check out a Hot Cocoa Walk.”
“That sounds romantic.”
“No romance. Purely for the blog. I’m going to drink hot cocoa, walk around town to see lights, and interview as many people in town as I can to get more information about the events in town. Then I’m out of here.”
“You’ve said that, but I think there’s more to it.”
I open the door and see Rex and Tag in front of me, both looking very festive. “I’ll talk to you later,” I say before I hit the end call button, not taking my eyes off Rex. He’s dressed in another knitted sweater, this one with rows of reindeer and trees underneath a black leather jacket. At his feet sits Tag, Santa hat still planted firmly on his head.
“Are you ready to go?” Rex asks.
“Yes, I’ll just grab my—uh, your—jacket.”
“It’s alright. You should keep it. It looks better on you, anyway.” His cheeks turn pink, and he looks down as if shocked at what he said.
I feel myself blush, too, as I reach behind the door and grab his plaid jacket. I don’t want to admit how much I like the way it feels. How warm it is. How much it smells like him, which is a mix of coffee and dog. Two scents I never thought I would find appealing, but with him, it’s comforting.
I step into my boots, grab my purse off the hook, and walk outside. There’s a somewhat awkward silence as the three of us pile into his truck. Was Rex flirting with me? Or trying to? It had been so long since a man had tried, I don’t know if I’m imagining it.
He couldn’t be. He just lost his wife last year and is clearly not ready to move on if he still has a cupboard full of her tea.
Am I ready to move on and flirt? It’s been five years since the ‘ Christmas-that-shall-not-be-mentioned .’ While I haven’t tried to get out and date since then, I also haven’t met anyone that caught my attention.
Not like Rex Wellington has with his Christmas sweaters and quirky dog.
Tag sits in the back, nose pressed against the window as we make our way into town. Christmas music plays softly through the speakers; Rex hums along to Elvis’ ‘Blue Christmas.’
“Elvis fan?” I ask, trying to break the tension that I’m probably imagining in my mind.
“More like a Christmas music fan,” he says with a smirk that shouldn’t make my heart skip a beat the way it does. “You?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t really listen to music.”
“What? Who doesn’t listen to any music?” He takes his eyes off the road for a moment to look at me in surprise.
“I don’t know. I guess I just never think to turn any on.” I shrug my shoulders, looking out the windshield.
“What do you listen to when you’re driving?”
“Podcasts and audiobooks mainly.”
“Romance books?” Rex asks, sneaking another look at me with a smile.
“Gosh, no. Thrillers or murder mysteries, usually. I love True Crime podcasts.”
“I don’t get the appeal of those.”
“I don’t know. There’s something interesting about finding out the psychology behind it.”
“Hmm,” he replies, staring ahead, deep in thought. “So, no music in the car. What about when you’re writing your blog?”
“No, I don’t have anything playing. I find it too distracting.”
“While doing things around the house?”
“No.”
“Going for walks?”
“Nope.”
“In the shower?”
“Definitely not,” I laugh.
Rex parks his truck on the main street, which I have since learned is called Candy Cane Lane. Because, of course it is.
He turns toward me in his seat. “You’re the most fascinating person I’ve met since moving here.”
“Thank you?” I’m not sure if it’s a compliment or meant to be judging by how he’s looking at me, as if I were a puzzle to be solved.
“You don’t like Christmas but write about it for blogs. You have an unnatural dislike for pancakes.”
“That one isn’t fair. You’re eating a stack of cake with sugar drizzled on top and call it breakfast,” I interrupt.
“It’s a breakfast staple and it’s delicious,” he responds before continuing. “And now I find out you don’t listen to music. Ever.”
“Not ever . I go places where there’s music in the background. I know about music; I just don’t listen to it on my own.”
“See. Interesting.” Rex opens his door and climbs out. “Stay there.”
Tag lets out a sound behind me that, if he were human, I’d say it is a scoff. But instead, the German Shepherd places his head beside my seat as if keeping an eye on me.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I say, looking at him. He replies by raising a furry eyebrow. “What? I learned my lesson. He likes opening doors, helping me into jackets, and things. I get it.”
I look through the window at Rex as he rounds the front of the truck. I do get it. He’s like a man from the past when they want to take care of their women. Protect them. Not leave them in front of a hundred of their family and friends to explain they had wasted their time being pulled away from family traditions for a defunct wedding.
Rex opens my door and moves to the side, giving me room to jump down with Tag right behind me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He holds out his elbow and I hook my hand through, letting him guide me down the street.
The town looks magical in the twilight with the sun dipping low beyond the horizon. The tree in the square is lit up and the booths all have lanterns or strings of lights in festive colours. People mill about, smiling, and saying hello to us as we walk, while also giving me curious, but kind, smiles. I guess in a town like this, I am a bit of a mystery. A newcomer who I’m sure they’ve all heard about by now.
This experience has been so vastly different from being in the city. There I can disappear. I don’t want to run into someone? I can switch coffee shops and networking events. Problem solved.
Here? Everyone knows everyone and everything.
I’m not sure if I find that charming or scary.
“Cassie will have a booth set up with the best hot cocoa you’ve ever had. She has lots of different flavours. Something for everyone.”
“And Cassie is?” I ask, trying to sound neutral when my heart races as fast as my mind, searching for any reference Rex might have made to a woman named Cassie.
Not that I care.
Or that I’m interested.
In fact, I don’t even know why I’m asking other than for conversation.
I know I’m lying to myself. Rachel’s questions must have put Rex being single on my mind. That’s all. No attraction what-so-ever.
“She runs the Candy Cane Cafe. Makes the best lattes, and hot cocoa, in town.” He smiles as he talks about her, which makes me curious if it’s just his love of caffeine, or if there is something more to his love of her coffee.
“I see.” I look straight ahead, my hand fixed in his elbow as we enter the town square. Almost as if I were staking a claim on him, although I don’t know why. I have no claim on him. I have nothing. And if that wasn’t the statement of the year, I don’t know what is. “Is that where you got that horrific drink you spilled all over my jacket?”
Rex laughs. “Yes, that’s exactly where I got it. I promise she’ll have something that even you will like.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I stop and turn to him, heat rising in my face.
“Nothing,” Rex laughs as he starts walking again, taking me with him. “It just means that she’ll have something that even Christmas haters will enjoy.”
“I don’t hate Christmas.”
“Whatever you say.”
Again, I’m struck with how to respond to Rex. I want to continue joking—flirting?—but I’m at a loss. I don’t know how to react to him because I don’t know how I feel about his joking or flirting. I don’t joke or flirt. I’m not that person, but Rex makes me want to be that person.
And that scares me.
I try not to think about it as we pass people chatting and strolling between the few scattered booths. Kids run about wildly, laughing as they eat cookies and drink from to-go cups. The image in front of me is so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. Sure, kids run and play in parks in Vancouver, but this feels different. Not as guarded. The kids and the parents seem more carefree. It feels—peaceful.
Rex leads me over to a booth in the centre of the square. Behind the table, filled with baked goods and large carafes, stands a beautiful blonde dressed in a tight-fitting black jacket and matching toque. Her cheeks are pink from the cold wind, perfect black liner rims her big blue eyes, which twinkle as she laughs with a customer in front of her. It’s like she stepped out of a photo shoot, not standing in the middle of small-town British Columbia during a Christmas festival.
I look down at my oversized plaid jacket, jeans that could use a wash, and now-muddy boots. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to tame what I’m sure are some pretty wild curls, realizing that I didn’t put any makeup on this morning. Everything about my appearance is so unlike me. I’m always put together. I’m never covered in dirt and snow or wearing clothes that aren’t mine. I never forget to put on makeup before I leave the house.
Walking up to this typical small-town girl, I wonder if Rex regrets having me on his arm. I’m nothing like her at the moment. Not the polished city woman that takes pride in how put together I am on any given day. I would never dare to even run out to the grocery store looking like this back home, let alone a public event. Looking over at him, I can’t help but feel a pain in my heart when I see the smile that grazes his lips as he looks at the other woman. I may be on his arm, but his eyes are only for her right now.
What am I even doing? I should be talking to the townspeople and learning about the Hot Cocoa Walk. Finding out why people flock to this tiny Christmas-obsessed town. I don’t have time to be laying claim to a man I’m certainly not interested in and am never going to see once this week is over.
Making the decision to end these feelings here and now, I pull my hand from his arm, ignoring Rex’s questioning, and mildly hurt, look on his face. Instead, I straighten my spine as I march over to the booth with the cheery, blonde, hot cocoa-supplying elf with the biggest smile I can muster.
I hold my hand out to her and steady my voice. “Hi, there. You must be Cassie. I’d like to ask you some questions.”