Chapter 9 #2
“If someone asks directly, we tell the truth.”
“And if they don’t?”
“We don’t volunteer extra information.” Mark said it carefully, like he had already thought about this and found it all partly defensible.
“That is a very fine distinction.”
“I know.”
“It is almost invisible.”
“Yes.”
She walked toward the front display, needing to move, and adjusted a tiny wooden church that had shifted a quarter inch from where it belonged. “Christmas is only a few weeks away.”
“New Year’s ends the season, right?”
“At least emotionally.”
“And by then people will have new things to talk about.”
She blinked a few times. “That’s optimistic.”
He chuckled. “You’re supposed to be the optimistic one.”
“I am, but I also know Mrs. Barlow.”
Mark joined her near the window, standing close enough that she could see his reflection beside hers in the glass.
Outside, the square glowed peaceful and golden.
Inside, Winter Wishes smelled like cedar, cinnamon, and candle wax.
It was, Natalie thought, the exact sort of place where a woman might make a foolish decision and convince herself it had holiday charm.
She looked at their reflections and sighed. “If we did this, there would have to be rules.”
“If?”
“Do not sound pleased.”
“I don’t think I did.”
She made a face. “You sounded like a man who enjoys structure.”
“I do enjoy structure.”
“That may be the least surprising thing you’ve said.”
He leaned one shoulder against the window frame, giving her space and attention at the same time. “What rules?”
Natalie ticked them off on her fingers. “No lying if someone asks directly. No encouraging wild stories. No romantic gifts. No hand-holding unless absolutely necessary, and I cannot imagine why it would be necessary.”
“Agreed.”
“No kissing.”
“Definitely agreed.”
She side-eyed him. “You agreed very quickly.”
“You were the one to suggest it.”
“Because it’s a sensible rule.”
“It’s the most sensible rule so far.”
“Good.” She ignored the strange little flicker of annoyance that had no business appearing. “No using this to make anyone jealous.”
His expression changed before he could hide it.
Natalie regretted the rule immediately. One of the customers had made a comment about how glad she was that Mark was finally over his ex.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine.” Mark pushed away from the window frame and looked at the display instead of her. “Jenna isn’t part of this.”
She bit her lower lip. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation, and Natalie believed him. His expression made her wonder if this Jenna had hurt him, but for some reason, it mattered that he wasn’t still trying to impress her.
“All right,” she said gently. “Then no using this to avoid actual life forever.”
That brought his gaze back to hers. “Fair.”
“And if either of us gets uncomfortable, we stop,” she added. “Immediately. No questions. No guilt.”
Mark nodded. “Of course.”
They fell silent.
Natalie should have felt foolish. Instead, she felt relieved. Mark understood, and the idea of having an answer for Aunt Eleanor’s questions, even a temporary one, made breathing a little easier.
“Through Christmas,” Mark said.
“And until New Year’s.”
“No complications.”
“No feelings,” Natalie said.
Mark’s mouth curved faintly. “That should be easy.”
She smirked back. “It should be.” Natalie held out her hand before she could reconsider. “Temporary partners?”
Mark looked at her hand for a moment, then took it. His palm was warm, his grip firm and careful, but the handshake did not quite feel businesslike.
“Temporary partners,” he said.
She gave his hand one brisk shake and let go before she could think too hard about how nice it had felt. “Good. Excellent. We have a plan.”
“We have something,” Mark said.
Natalie made a face. “That’s not reassuring.”
“I’m not sure it should be.” He shrugged, looking a little sheepish.
The bell above the door gave a faint jingle as a gust of wind moved outside, and Natalie glanced instinctively toward the locked entrance.
No one stood there. No customer waited with a question.
No Mrs. Barlow peered through the glass collecting evidence.
Only the square, the lights, and the reflection of Natalie standing beside Mark. She was smiling.
She cleared her throat and moved behind the counter. “Well, since we are now temporarily declining to correct a community misunderstanding, I suppose I should ask whether you actually like peppermint bark.”
“I do.”
“Chocolate-covered pretzels?”
“Also yes. I’m easy.”
“No,” she said, reaching for a notepad. “You are practical, guarded, and very opinionated about structural integrity. Easy is not the word I would choose.”
He smiled as she wrote down both treats anyway. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“What should I know in case Mrs. Hernandez corners me again?”
“Peppermint bark if it’s homemade. Chocolate-covered pretzels if they’re salty enough. Never fruitcake. Cinnamon rolls from Honey Creek Bakery are acceptable in almost any emotional crisis.”
Mark nodded and then shook his head. “Honestly, all of that… doesn’t surprise me much. Actually, that explains a lot.”
“It explains nothing.”
“It explains why you crossed the square yesterday looking like a woman on a mission.”
“I was on a mission.”
“For frosting.”
“For peace.”
He laughed then, low and genuine, and Natalie looked down at the notepad before he caught how much she liked the sound.
No complications. No feelings.
A perfectly reasonable agreement. A temporary solution. A harmless arrangement between two sensible adults who both understood exactly what they were doing.
Natalie glanced at Mark while he examined the western-themed ornament tree with renewed suspicion, and her confidence wobbled just enough to make her grip the pen tighter.
Maybe not entirely harmless but only until New Year’s.