Chapter 1 #2
I’m the first to claim I was born in the wrong era.
“Wardrobe malfunctions can bring the best of us down. I’m always at the ready.
” My favorite hobby is restoring and wearing vintage clothing.
My little quirk makes me seem seventy-five rather than twenty-five, but I make no apology.
I move closer to inspect his coat. “The tear is close to the pocket seam. Easy fix.” Only …
I can’t see well. The surrounding lights provide enough illumination that I can clearly note how the man’s dark hair has a flirty curl to it beneath his black beanie.
But there’s not enough light to thread a needle and stitch a straight line.
While this is the kind of mending I can probably do with my eyes closed, I’ve already revealed enough of my general incompetence, I shouldn’t risk this.
“We need to go where there’s more light. ”
I tug my phone from my other pocket and check the time. “It’s nearly seven. We have to hurry.” I hustle as fast as my boots let me.
“Where to, exactly?” His long legs effortlessly keep pace with me.
I sigh, wishing this night to be over. “To the North Pole.” I lead him to the back door of the enclosed pavilion.
“Santa’s on a smoke break.” Ned Gilieski is our resident St. Nick.
While most Santas subsist on cookies and milk, ours survives on Marlboros.
“It’s in his yearly contract.” Santa Ned is not to be confused with the legendary Silver Creek Secret Santa, our resident philanthropist who helps local families.
Only a select few know his identity, me included.
Intent on my current mission, I open the back door to the pavilion, which is kept unlocked during this event.
I breeze into the winter wonderland. Well, the pretend winter wonderland.
Also, let it be known I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t trap myself in an enclosed space with a man I’ve known for less than twenty minutes.
The pavilion is surrounded by windows which give a clear view to passersby with hot chocolate, kids with sticky faces and fingers from the free candy canes provided by the Lions Club, and, somewhere in the vicinity, a smoking Santa.
After nodding toward the fluorescent lights as an explanation, I click open my kit, opting for the needle best for wool.
“Give me your coat.” I sound bossy and hate it.
I get like this when flustered. “I’m sorry.
I should probably ask your name before demanding you to remove your clothes.
” Um. No. Try again. “I mean, I shouldn’t tell you to take anything off …
” I groan, and he rubs a hand over his mouth, but not before I catch a glimpse of his smile.
“I had a rough day. Clearly, the English language is against me.” I stick out my hand, the one not currently holding a needle. “I’m Greta.”
His gloved fingers engulf mine. “Leo.”
I can’t control the wrinkling of my nose. “Sorry. That one’s taken. Pick another.”
“Name, you mean?” He huffs a laugh. “You want me to pick another name?”
“My Leo quota is full.” It’s like how mothers reject baby names because they know someone who’s already ruined it. My brain won’t allow the distinction between the Leo of this evening with the other I’ve known since forever.
Both dark brows rise, disappearing beneath his beanie. “Ah, an ex-boyfriend?”
I snort. “Not even close. He’s one of the Mavericks.”
“The basketball team?”
“Ha! No, the card players of Silver Creek. He’s pushing eighty-five, and let’s just say, if ear hair is a mark of intelligence, Leonard Faulk would rule the world.
” Someone as attractive as the man before me can’t share the same name as the one who smells like Menthol and introduces himself to strangers by handing them a copy of his obituary, which he’s constantly amending.
Leonard refuses to die until he has the legendary account of his life perfected.
His words. Though I confess, Leonard is probably my fifth favorite person in existence.
His hands halt on the last button as he glances up at me. “My name’s not short for Leonard.”
“Leopold?”
“No.” He shrugs out of his coat but hesitates. “You really don’t have to fix this. I have other coats.”
“It’s the least I can do.” I gently tug the coat from his grasp. “This should only take a minute or two.” It’s Saturday night. He probably has somewhere to be. I angle toward the light and work swiftly as if Leo the Luring—that’s how he’s known in my head now—is holding a stopwatch.
“Are you from around here?” He casually asks as he inspects the row of gingerbread houses on display from the local elementary school.
“I grew up here.” That’s all the information I offer. I deliberately don’t reveal my last name in case Leo the Luring is actually Leo the Lurker. I don’t feel I’m interesting enough to attract a stalker, but one can never be too careful. “You?”
“In a way.” I hear his voice behind me. He’s no doubt checking out the selfie station.
Those too old to sit on Santa’s lap can pose behind a massive plastic orb, giving the appearance that they’re inside a snow globe.
“I’ve lived in Silver Creek off and on until recently.
” His voice fades, and I glance over my shoulder to find him emerging from the storage closet.
Hmm, I wouldn’t have pegged him as the nosy kind.
After the final stitch, I knot the thread and break it off. “Here you go, Leo,” I say, including his name, which makes his lips curve in an attractive smile. “You are presentable for society once again.”
He retrieves the coat and examines my work with a nod of approval. “Can barely tell it was ever torn. Thank you.” He smoothly puts the coat back on, even as I move toward the exit. “Next time I get pummeled by Christmas lights, I’m coming to you.”
I laugh. “I hope we can meet again on less violent terms.” I was joining in on his joke, but then realize how forward I sound. Before I can sputter out something that would probably make me sound more awkward, movement outside snags my focus. “Oh no.”
“What?” He follows me out the exit, and I quietly shut the door.
“Look. There’s Josie. She found her dead elf.” I’m not in the mood for confrontation. A half hour ago? Yes. Why didn’t Josie stumble upon me when I was full of righteous fury?
Josie’s stomping her feet like she’s three. “Greta!”
A sigh pushes through my lips. “Might as well hash it out with her.”
He places a hand on my elbow. “Let me.”
“Uh, I’m not sure?—”
But he’s already striding toward a fuming Josie.
I slyly get closer, ducking behind one of the pine trees for some covert eavesdropping.
“Are you Josie from Tan-tasy Island?” His masculine voice silences Josie’s banshee yell—something about me and my imminent demise.
“Yes.” Her tone is suspiciously hesitant.
“I’m sorry about your display,” Leo says. “I noticed a light was broken and intended to repair it for you.”
What? I peek between the branches, and sure enough, he holds out a bulb. I remember he wandered into the storage closet in the pavilion, but had no idea he swiped a replacement light. How did he know where to find those? Also is the elf really broken? Did I do that in my accidental stabbing?
Josie seems just as baffled. “So, this”—she points at her elf—“has nothing to do with Greta?” Then, before he can answer, she says, “Oh, do you work for the city?”
“You can say that.”
I nearly slap a hand to my forehead. He works for the city. He no doubt approached me to begin with to question my actions. I feel super dumb. By this time, Josie realizes the caliber of man standing before her, and her lips shift from scowling to impressively pouty.
“I appreciate you coming to my rescue.” Her mouth slowly spreads into a coy smile while her gaze holds intense eye contact. It’s impressive, really. As much as I hate to admit it, I should be taking notes. Despite her teeth nearly glowing from her skin being so orange, she has a strong flirt game.
I watch like some weird creeper as Leo fixes a bulb on the elf’s foot. The exact spot I hit him with earlier.
“There.” He dusts his hands together. “Can I offer you a suggestion?”
She dips her chin and peers up at him. “You can offer me anything.”
I snort, then realize it was loud enough to nearly shake the pine boughs and duck.
Both heads whip in my direction, but somewhere in the distance, a man shouts a slew of obscene words, drawing their focus off me. It sounded suspiciously like Santa Ned, but I can’t be certain.
Leo claims Josie’s attention. “I see that your elf’s on a surfboard.”
“Uh huh. It gives a beachy feel that matches my tanning salon.”
“Right. So what if you place this guy”—he hoists up the elf—“over by the fountain? There’s an open spot right behind it. When the water shoots up, it will give the illusion that he’s riding a wave to those who pass the fountain. I think it will be a crowd favorite.”
I’m now so low to the ground I can smell the wet earth, but I can see Josie teetering. Like there’s a war between her grudgy soul and her sound logic. She loves to be the center of attention, and the elf’s placement there certainly makes sense.
He leans in and seals the deal. “It’ll match your beach vibe.”
Oh he’s good. He just threw back her words and made her sound brilliant.
Josie beams at him. Really her teeth are super white. It’s kinda freaky. “That’s a good idea. I don’t know why I haven’t thought of it before.”
Gee, I wonder …
“Can I move it for you?” Leo is already holding the elf like some festively-shaped football under his arm.
“That would be amazing!” Josie practically glues herself to his free arm.
Leo glances over his shoulder, knowing exactly where I’m hiding, and gives a subtle nod.
Like we’re in on some covert operation. But I immediately understand his signal and move toward the turtledoves.
It’s not as large as Josie’s, so hauling it back to the park bench is simple.
Once secured into the ground, I plug it in and flick the “On” switch.
I pat one of the lighted birds. Everything’s set for Gran’s visit tomorrow. I glance at my watch and then the direction Leo went, only to find him approaching. Gran needs her nightly meds in a little over an hour, but maybe I don’t have to return home so quickly.