Chapter 10
Alex
You have such a pretty face.
You should be on a Christmas card.
~ Elf
“Hand me that angel,” Lexi says.
She’s up on a stepladder and her kids are at the foot of the tree, hanging plastic and clay ornaments in uneven clusters while Lexi decorates the higher branches with thoughtful precision.
The tree fills the corner of a room with large windows and a high ceiling edged in crown molding.
The nostalgic scents of pine, cloves and cinnamon fill the air.
The cheery lilt of Christmas music floats through the farmhouse.
Lexi’s home practically glows with warmth.
It’s the love she and Trevor have poured into every restored floor, painted wall and resurfaced cabinet.
But more than that, it’s the love they have for one another and their children.
The whole scene is a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of my undecorated house across town.
Trevor’s out front hanging the lights on the eaves. He boasted that when he’s finished, neighbors will be able to spot his lights from the country road down the end of their long driveway. It’s quite a claim considering their “next door” neighbor is a rancher at least a quarter mile away.
I reach up with the angel ornament.
“So, how is it working with Jesse?” Lexi asks.
“Good,” I say, a defensiveness taking me by surprise.
Heat pricks the back of my neck. My reaction says as much about me as it does about Lexi.
“He’s a little over the top,” she says without any malice to her tone. It’s the same way she’d say Trevor’s too easygoing on the kids.
Still, I bristle slightly. It’s one thing to point out a flaw in someone who has been well loved and included in the community their whole lives. It’s another to say something about a man who’s lived on the cusp of every social circle.
“Are you talking about how he pulled me over in your van?” I ask.
“Well, that, for sure. He’s just …”
“Sweet? Thoughtful? Patient? Devoted?” I purposely cut her off before she says something we both regret.
A gentleman. That’s what he is. Awkward on the rare occasion, but that’s mostly because he’s sensitive.
And last time I checked, a little social anxiety isn’t a crime.
It’s probably preemptive on his part. After years of living on the fringes, he doesn’t know how to include himself without risking more rejection.
But that’s not who he is. I’ve seen the real Jesse—the one who extends grace to Cooter, settles disputes with diplomacy, exudes a quiet confidence and has a great sense of humor.
Lexi’s mouth almost drops open. “Oh.” She stares at me. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“See what coming?”
“You and Jesse.”
I focus on the ornament in my hand, lifting it to Lexi and avoiding her penetrating gaze. Then I bend toward the box of ornaments, fishing around for another one. Poppy and Oliver play happily at our feet, completely oblivious to the adult conversation going on above them.
Or at least I think they’re oblivious, until Poppy singsongs, “Jesse. Messy. Bessie. Guessie.”
I chuckle and add, “Fee fi fo Fessie.”
Poppy’s eyes go wide. “You know the Fee fi fo song?”
“I do, Poppy Bo Boppy.”
She giggles and smiles widely at me like we now share a secret language.
Lexi smiles. “You’re definitely the favorite aunt.”
“Bo boppy,” Oliver says, banging two plastic ornaments together and repeating it over and over. “Bo boppy. Bo boppy. Booooo boppy!”
“We’re not me and Jesse,” I say to Lexi, circling back to her assumption. “I mean—nothing has happened between us. We’re coworkers.”
“Didn’t he take you on a tour of town? On his day off? And didn’t you go to the carol sing together?”
“Not you too,” I practically groan. “The capacity to monitor others really is unmatched around here. Maybe you all should put your sleuthing skills to work and solve these petty thefts.”
Lexi laughs. “Sorry. We do tend to keep track of one another.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” I quirk a brow. “Well, to answer you, yes. He took me around town—it was an orientation to Bordeaux of sorts.”
I don’t tell Lexi how Jesse brought a thermos of hot cocoa and we sat on a picnic bench out by the reservoir, sipping from our mugs and chatting about everything and nothing for over an hour.
Or how he drove me by the elementary school and we got on the swings and jumped off like we were kids.
And I for sure don’t mention the way I hugged him on my porch after he walked me home from the carol sing.
Normally, I would tell her. But I’m not even sure what Jesse and I are doing.
And the way so many people around here seem to have an abundance of skewed opinions about him makes me a little overprotective of our privacy.
“That sounds sweet,” Lexi says. “Also seems like he’s pursuing you off the clock.”
“It was really sweet.” I ignore the second half of her assessment. Is he pursuing me? Or is he just being friendly?
Lexi’s staring at me like she can read my thoughts, so I add, “He’s made me feel welcome—at work and on my days off.”
“So, you wouldn’t turn him down if he wanted something more?”
Oliver grabs my pant leg and tugs, using me for leverage so he can stand up. He walks to another spot at the base of the tree, plops down and starts playing with the train set we’re going to set up on top of the tree skirt.
I throw Lexi a crumb. I don’t want to lie to her.
I also don’t want to tell her everything while it’s still so new and uncertain.
“As strange as this may seem to you, no. I wouldn’t turn him down.
I like him. He’s sweet and thoughtful. And he’s handsome.
He’s not like anyone I ever dated—totally not my usual type. But yeah. I like him.”
“The Little Mermaid likes Prince Eric,” Poppy informs me.
“Yes. But she also uses a fork to brush her hair,” I say. “So she’s not our role model.”
“Also, she doesn’t listen to her daddy.” Poppy’s face is so serious.
“Exactly,” I agree.
“Daddy. Dada. Daaaadaaaa,” Oliver adds.
Lexi and I burst into laughter.
“Future stand-up comedian,” I tell her, pointing to Oliver.
Lexi’s smile overflows with misguided excitement. “I like the idea of you and Jesse.”
“There’s a lot more to him than most of you have given credit,” I practically scold her. “But there’s no the two of us. We’re just friends and coworkers.”
“That was me and Trevor—until it wasn’t.” She smiles as if Jesse and me ending up together is a foregone conclusion.
“Lights are up!” Trevor announces, coming through the front door.
“Lemme see!” Poppy says.
Oliver stands and runs to Trevor. Lexi walks over more slowly, but with a singleness of focus. Trevor’s her person. And she’s his.
I’ve never been one to envy people. But my chest actually aches for what they have. I rub at the spot as Trevor lifts Oliver and sets him on his shoulders and Lexi grabs Poppy’s hand.
Not only was I never jealous of this kind of scene, I wouldn’t have believed that a man could come along out of the blue and capture my attention the way Jesse has.
He’s unexpected. I just hope what I’m feeling isn’t one-sided.
In a small town, history never disappears.
I don’t want to step my foot in it by misreading Jesse.
We have to work together nearly daily. And, as much as I’m guarding my thoughts and intentions where he’s concerned, this town has eyes and ears. People will end up knowing I like him.
It’s not like I can do anything about how I feel.
I moved here to start fresh—alone. I never dreamed I’d end up meeting someone who started to dominate my thoughts—a man who brings a private smile to my face just at the thought of him.
He’s got me counting down the time until we’re back on shift together.
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough—my eagerness for another day on patrol with him catches me off guard.
I follow the family outside to check out Trevor’s decorating job. The house looks like something straight out of a Lifetime Original Movie. The white bulbs give a dreamy look to the house and the sprays of pine on the banisters and wreaths on the door add a tasteful holiday touch.
We head back inside for warm cider in the kitchen.
Thankfully, the subject of me and Jesse is dropped for the rest of the afternoon.
At least, it’s dropped as a topic of conversation.
My thoughts continue to circle around our interactions like I’m solving a crime—looking for clues, examining evidence.
Does Jesse have feelings for me? Or is he just being kind and welcoming?
“I brought my thermos,” Jesse says the next day on our patrol. He tips his head toward the back seat. “I think you liked my cocoa.”
I glance backward and my stomach does a happy little flip. He brought me cocoa. He was thinking of me.
“What’s not to like?” I answer, hoping my voice doesn’t sound too flirtatious for work.
I’m not just talking about his cocoa. What’s not to like about this man sitting in the driver’s seat—his posture relaxed, but official, his eyes roving over the town he loves and serves?
“Why do you love Bordeaux so much?” I ask him.
He shoots me a questioning glance. “Don’t you love it?”
“I am coming to love it, more than I expected to, to be honest. I’m a city girl at heart. I thrive on the constant background noise, always having something to do and somewhere to go, the myriad of food choices, the shows and exhibits, the overall energy.”
“But …”
I smile at the way he hears a but in my statement even before I say it.
“But, I think I needed a space like Bordeaux—a place to be known and included. A town where I can’t run from scrutiny because people notice me and actually care. A house where I can occasionally feel the silence all the way through to my bones.”
“Hmmm.” Jesse is thoughtful for a moment. I don’t rush him. Finally, he glances at me, a soft smile on his lips. “Well, I love Bordeaux for all those same reasons.”