Chapter 5
FIVE
Pete was just coming out of a small but festive holiday shop when Hailey stopped by the lot an exact hour and ten minutes later—carefully timed to not appear too eager, even if she had spent a solid fifteen of those minutes primping in the bathroom of her café, swiping on and off lipstick over a muttered debate that could be overheard by every soul in the place, should any have been there. Perhaps luckily, the café door hadn’t reopened since Pete had left, and Hailey knew it was worth turning the sign for a few minutes. If a sudden line of eager customers formed, she’d be able to dash across the street. The mere thought of it made her giggle aloud.
“What’s so funny?” Pete asked, turning to flash her a wide grin as she approached.
“Nothing,” Hailey said, shaking her head. There was nothing funny about this situation, even remotely. The man whose marriage proposal she’d turned down eight years ago was back in her life just as it was crumbling around her. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She thought if she ever saw Pete again—and that was a scenario she’d put to rest about a year after they’d ended things—she would be settled and happy and oh so very sure of the decision she’d made.
Instead, she was left wondering how things might have been.
“Your wreath is a little crooked.” She pointed just below the light of the brick building, which must have been used as the now-empty school’s shed once upon a time. The gray sky showed no signs of brightening, at least not for today, and Hailey looked around hopefully at the customers who were milling about, shopping for a tree.
If even half of them tried her hot chocolate and decided to stop by the Beanery for a brownie or muffin to take home, then all this… temptation would be worth it.
She glanced in Pete’s direction, hating the flutter that ripped through her stomach as their eyes locked. Stiffening, she jutted her chin. “See? The bow’s off to the left a bit.”
Pete just frowned and backed up until he was standing right by her side, so close that the sleeve of his coat brushed hers. She clutched her bag of ingredients closer, wishing he would move away almost as much as she wished he would inch closer. He felt so familiar, standing there, so warm and comfortable. So right.
Wrong! They were wrong for each other. They wanted different things out of life. And she’d be best to remember that.
“Well, what do you know? It is crooked.” Pete stepped forward and reached up high, but his fingers barely grazed the wreath and sent it more askew. Cursing under his breath, he swept his gaze over the lot where another man was putting a star on an especially tall and symmetrical tree. “Mike’s on the ladder. My cousin,” he explained.
Pete’s family had been like her own for many years, but the name was new to her. “Did I ever meet him?”
“Nope.” Pete tried to jump up but only ended up knocking the wreath off the hook. He bent to pick up the ring of pine and dusted off the snow. “He was living out west for a while. Just came to help with the farm after—”
Hailey fell silent, hating the frown that pinched between Pete’s brows. His mouth was clamped firmly, and he stared at the wreath for a moment.
“Here. I’ll give you a boost,” he suddenly said.
Hailey blinked. “Ex—excuse me?”
Pete laughed softly. “You were quick to point out the wreath was crooked. Now you can help me fix it.”
Hailey’s stomach turned with unease. She liked a solid five feet of space between her body and his, thank you very much.
At least, she needed a solid five feet of space. What she wanted…well, that was impossible, she reminded herself .
“Can’t we just wait for your cousin to be finished with the ladder?” she asked hopefully.
Pete shook his head. “He’s decorating that tree. He’ll be up there all morning, or until a customer comes along and needs a sermon on the different types of evergreens.” He grinned a little wider. “Come on. I won’t drop you. Trust me.”
Trust him. She had. For three years she had trusted him enough to believe that their future was locked in place. That they’d move to Chicago. He’d go to med school. She’d run the café. And then he had to go and change plans. Change everything.
He held out a hand, just like he had all those years ago, only this time, there wasn’t a ring box in it, and he wasn’t dropping down to one knee.
It was just an open palm. An invitation. And his eyes were locked on hers, waiting.
“What if you slip in the snow and drop me?” she said.
“I work on a farm, in Wisconsin. I assure you, I can handle a little bit of snow.” He gave her a wry look, one that said he wasn’t buying her excuse.
“I’m wearing this big coat.” She patted the down parka she was wearing today. It was practical, but it was certainly bulky.
“I won’t judge,” he replied. Then, with a gleam in that gaze, he said, “I know what’s underneath.”
Hailey’s eyes sprung open, but instead of turning on her heel like she should do, because this entire arrangement was ridiculous and more than she had signed on for, she felt her cheeks flame with heat.
She clenched her teeth, wishing that for once the wind would pick up and cool her down. But luck wasn’t on her side much these days, was it?
“Fine,” she grumbled. “But only because I can tell you won’t take no for an answer.”
“I rarely do,” he said, but his grin dropped when he saw the look she was giving him.
They both knew that he’d taken her rejection of his proposal without argument. That he’d walked away. And never looked back.
Grateful for an excuse to look at anything but him, she walked over to the trailer that was edged in twinkling lights and set her bag of ingredients to the ground. Slowly, she moved back toward him, her boots crunching on the frozen snow. She let out a little “whoop” as he bent and hoisted her at the knees, feeling the strength in his arms as he brought her high enough to easily reach the hook.
She re-fastened the wreath quickly, making sure it was straight and the bow was fluffed. “Okay, you can put me down now.”
Only she wasn’t so sure she wanted him to—not just yet. The realization that it might be the last time they ever touched, and the knowledge of how long it had been since they had, made her heart feel heavy. But all that sadness was replaced with something much more lethal as he released the tension in his arms and guided her carefully back to the ground, skimming the length of her thighs in the process.
Desire pulsed through her, sending waves of heat through her body until she forgot they were still standing outside in the snow.
“Better?” she asked when she finally found her voice.
His eyes were so clear in the cold winter light, and he blinked as if just getting his bearings. He gave a casual glance at the roofline of the store. “We make a pretty good team.”
She pulled in a breath, bit back a retort, and went back to the trailer, reaching for the bags of supplies. They had made a good team. Once.
Pete was right behind her. He picked up the heaviest of her bags, the one containing the slow cooker she planned to use to keep her hot chocolate warm, and jutted his chin to the shop. “We have power in there,” he explained. “And my little home for the season is a bit of a mess.”
Hailey looked back at the trailer in surprise. “You’re living here?”
“It’s warm enough. And convenient.” Pete shrugged, but he struggled to meet her eyes.
Ah. She got it. It was personal. His personal space. And he wasn’t willing to invite her in.
Pushing aside the swell of hurt, she followed him back to the little shop, which, due to the open door, was not very warm but did have power. It was decorated from wall to wall and floor to ceiling with handmade ornaments, candles, cards, and knit stockings.
“Did your mom make these?” Hailey admired a painted glass ornament.
Pete stared at the bulb for a moment and gave a sharp nod. “She’s always liked crafts.”
“I know,” Hailey said quietly. There was a beat of silence when she wasn’t sure if she should ask about the woman she’d always liked so much or if that would be crossing a line.
Pete decided for her when he took the bags and set them on a wooden table.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of adding a little sign.” He pointed to a chalkboard with his handwriting.
Her breath caught at the sight of it, remembering the notes he used to write her, simple ones, sometimes stuck to the door of her room or slid underneath. Silly little notes that most people would just throw away.
But she’d kept them. They were buried in a box along with all the photos of their time together—on the highest shelf of her bedroom closet, where she wouldn’t be able to reach them.
“Sweet Hailey’s Hot Chocolate,” she read aloud, wondering if she should point out that the name of her establishment was the Corner Beanery, until she saw him tap the tag line underneath. She smiled a little easier. “Exclusively from Corner Beanery. Thanks,” she said brightly.
He shrugged. “I figure a little advertisement never hurts.”
Hailey didn’t dare tell him just how much it helped. Instead, she pointed to the drawing of the snowman drinking from a steaming mug. “I see you’re channeling your inner Picasso.” She couldn’t deny the laughter that rumbled in her stomach as she met his eyes.
“Now don’t go judging my artwork.”
“Actually, I was going to say that you did a fine job.” And he had. She’d always noticed how clean his little doodles were when they’d sat beside each other in a boring lecture. “It’s just…hard to picture you with a set of markers in your hands, and dancing snowmen in your mind.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I admit, the idea was not exactly original, or even entirely mine. I may have been inspired by that corporate coffee chain across the street from you. But it was that or elves.”
Hailey thought she might prefer the elves until Pete reached behind the counter and revealed his effort on another poster board. Strange, oversized ears and club-like hands weren’t exactly the image she had when it came to her hot chocolate. She laughed. “You made the right choice, then. And thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he said, and their eyes met for just long enough for her to see the hint of warmth in them, the crinkle at the corners that reminded her of the years that had passed.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I should probably get to work here so I can get back to the café. My assistant will be on hand tomorrow, and then I’ll have more time to… ”
To what? Stare into those dark eyes, or linger on the lips and remember what it used to feel like to kiss them?
“You know, next time, it might make more sense for me to make everything in my kitchen,” she said. “All you’d need to do is keep it warm that way.”
“Whatever works for you,” Pete said easily.
Hailey stared at him, trying to gauge his motive, knowing that if she just came right out and asked why he had suggested this arrangement, he’d probably tell her the truth.
Because she could trust him.
Until she couldn’t.
With a set jaw, she began to work on the recipe, all too happy when a customer appeared on the lot and started manhandling the trees.
“I should get out there before he shakes off the needles,” Pete said, looking worriedly at the customer.
“Go on out,” Hailey told him. “This is a secret recipe anyway.”
“Family only, I remember,” he said with a wink.
Hailey watched him walk over to the customer, politely guiding him toward another row of trees.
Family only, she thought. And close as they’d once been, Pete was not her family.
Family , Pete thought, watching from the window of the trailer as Mike chatted with another woman. It was impossible to tell from this distance if he was trying to sell a tree…or himself.
Either way, it was obvious that it wasn’t going well. The woman took a few steps away, and Mike followed.
He was persistent, Pete had to hand him that. And right now, that’s what they needed if they were going to clear the lot before Christmas.
Pete turned back to the paperwork on the table, but he’d barely had a chance to sit down before Mike pushed through the door, letting in a blast of cold air.
“Sale?” Pete asked, even though Mike’s expression told him otherwise.
“She said she’s going with a plastic tree.” Mike tossed him a look of disgust. “I asked how she planned to store that in the city. They don’t have much storage in most of these places, do they?”
“Probably depends on the situation,” Pete assumed. He had never gotten to the apartment-hunting stage with Hailey, even though they’d talked about it for months. She wanted something with an extra bedroom, he wanted a place with a balcony. “What about the friends you’re staying with? Do they need a tree?”
He was relieved that he didn’t have to share the trailer with Mike, and not just because his cousin snored. He could only hold himself together for so long. Only pretend for so many hours. By the end of the day, he needed to let himself drop his shoulders for a bit. Think about his situation.
And, admittedly, about Hailey.
Mike looked amused. “My college buddies? Two guys in their late twenties? You think they want a tree with lights and tinsel and all that?”
“What’s wrong with a tree?” Pete countered, but he was trying not to laugh. “What about the hot chocolate? Did you manage to sell her a cup?”
“I did,” Mike said proudly. “It was my fourth cup this morning.”
Now if only they could sell a tree for each cup of hot chocolate.
Pete thought about this while Mike started another pot of coffee, keeping one eye out the window in case another customer came along. He told himself it would get busier on the weekends and evenings, and the closer they got to Christmas, too.
He told himself a lot of things to make himself feel better.
Like how this arrangement with Hailey was only for the business.
“That hot chocolate sure does smell good,” Mike commented as he added fresh grounds to the filter. “How’d you manage to convince the café owner to sell with us?”
Pete had briefly filled his cousin in on the arrangement that morning, after talking to Hailey, but he hadn’t elaborated. Mike, unlike the rest of his family, had never met Hailey, but he knew who she was, of course.
And what she’d meant to him.
“I’m friends with the shop owner,” Pete replied, shifting his eyes back to the stack of bills on the table. He didn’t know which was worse: facing the realities of the business’s finances or talking to Mike about his love life.
“Friends?” Mike looked confused. “I thought I was the only one with friends in this city. That’s why you’re sleeping in this trailer instead of camping out on a couch like me.”
Pete would take the quiet trailer over a lumpy couch any day. He didn’t mind the solitude.
Or at least, that’s what he told himself.
“I thought the only person you know in Chicago was—”
Pete pulled in a breath, waiting for it.
Mike’s eyes widened with glee. “Your ex- girlfriend ? Your ex-girlfriend runs the café? And she was here ? But that means you guys are talking again and I thought—”
“We’re not talking again,” Pete cut in. Although, technically, they were talking. A lot, actually. But not about the real stuff. Not about each other. They were keeping it light. And safe.
Because they both knew that all too soon, Pete would be back on that farm.
If there was still a farm to return to after this season.
“She’s going to be over here every day, though,” Mike observed, pouring a cup of fresh brew.
“Or her assistant,” Pete said defensively, even though he hoped that wouldn’t happen.
He knew that it shouldn’t matter. That a deal was a deal. They could lure people in with the hot chocolate, give them a full browsing experience, and entice them to buy a fresh tree after they got caught up in the moment .
Technically, it shouldn’t matter if Hailey or someone else dropped off the hot chocolate every morning.
Except it did matter. And that was the problem.
“I’m looking forward to meeting this woman at long last,” Mike said, not even bothering to suppress a grin. He probably would have rubbed his hands together if he hadn’t been holding the coffee mug.
“Don’t give her a hard time,” Pete warned. “And don’t…say anything.”
“About what?” Mike blinked, the face of innocence, even though the mischief shone in his eyes.
Pete knew that Mike couldn’t tell Hailey about the farm. Mike, like Pete’s mother, and his other family members, didn’t know the state of the business, and Pete intended to keep it that way. His father had done the best he could, and Pete was the one who had inherited the land—and the mess. And telling Mike would just risk the news traveling to his mother, and Pete couldn’t risk that.
He couldn’t risk a lot of things right now.
His heart included.
“Don’t go telling her about my dating life for starters,” Pete said, giving his cousin a pointed look.
“What dating life?” Mike snorted. “All you do is work!”
Someone had to, but Pete wasn’t about to explain why.
“Any chance you two might…” Mile waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“No,” Pete said firmly, even though it hurt to say it.
“But you two must be getting along…”
“It’s a business arrangement,” Pete said again. “That’s all it is.”
Or could be.
Mike poured the contents of his mug into his thermos and walked to the door.
“Sure it is,” he said, and his laughter could be heard long after the door swung shut behind him.