Chapter 5
five
. . .
Bristol
Things were going so well.
One minute I’m bantering with Rhett and the next, I’m walking a group of retirees toward the library’s large-print section when I hear the sound of glass shattering and heavy things tumbling to the ground.
Everyone jumps and looks at me.
I plaster my best “I’ve got it all under control” smile on my face and excuse myself to investigate.
The entire Winter Tales merely cosmetic. I’ll patch it today and come back tomorrow to sand and repaint it.”
“You don’t have to do all that. I’m sure I can cover up the patches with some wall art or something.”
“This library deserves more than a rush job done halfway,” he says, like all this work is no big deal when it’ll actually take hours.
It’s a very big deal. At least to me.
This library is such a large part of my heart.
It’s where I found my footing after college.
Where I learned how to belong in Mistletoe Bay.
Where I get to build something quiet and meaningful every single day.
So when he says things like that, it feels like it’s not just the library he’s talking about.
It feels like he’s talking about me, too.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, winking before rushing out the automatic doors.
I stare at his retreating backside for a half a second too long. With a shake of my head, I turn my attention back to the rest of the library.
Juniper Hart, the Candlelight Walk coordinator, is waiting patiently for me to return to the check-out desk.
“Rough morning?” she asks as I scan her library card.
“You could say that.”
“At least it’s fixable. And you’ll have some very attractive eye-candy to admire while it’s being repaired,” she says, glancing toward the disaster zone.
“That’s what I keep telling myself,” I reply. “About the display I mean. That it can all be fixed,” I quickly clarify.
The last thing I need is for Juniper to think I noticed Rhett’s attractiveness.
She hums a knowing little sound that makes my spine stiffen. “Oh, honey,” she says, lowering her voice. “You don’t have to pretend that getting to watch Rhett Jennings work isn’t a delightful treat.”
I slide her book receipt across the counter a little too briskly. “He’s just here to fix the display.”
“Mmhmm.” She peers over her glasses, eyes flicking toward the doorway Rhett disappeared through. “Red Barn Hardware and Repair doesn’t usually do emergency call-outs for twinkle-light tragedies.”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it again.
Juniper grins. “Rhett Jennings doesn’t go out of his way for just anyone. Trust me. This town has been trying to marry that man off for years.”
“Well, the town can relax. He’s being professional.”
“Of course he is,” she agrees easily. “Professional. Helpful. Extremely handsome.”
I sigh. “Juniper.”
“What?” She lifts her shoulders innocently. “I coordinate a historical tour. Observation is literally my job.”
She gathers her books and slips them into her tote. “Just saying—if the library needed saving, it could’ve done a lot worse.”
As she turns to leave, she pauses and adds sweetly, “And if you hear wedding bells, I planned my fair share of other events, too.”
“Goodbye, Juniper.”
She wishes me luck with the holiday rush before heading out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the growing realization that I texted a man I matched with this morning and he showed up like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The doors slide open again minutes later.
Rhett’s back, carrying a larger tool bag in one hand and a shop vac in the other, with a small clipboard tucked under his arm.
He sets everything down and gets right back to work, but not before apologizing for the fact that he’s going to have to make more noise than appropriate for a library during operating hours.
“Just need to vacuum up the glitter and tiny shards of glass.”
A man who knows how to use a vacuum? Yes, please.
“I think I can make an exception for the noise, given the circumstances,” I tell him, playfully.
He grins back at me. “So no shushing me this time?”
“Not this time.” I smile back.
Rhett turns on the vacuum and works on what’s left of the mess. He stacks the broken table into a neat pile out of the way for now and then he’s measuring, tapping, and muttering things under his breath that sound reassuring even though I don’t understand a word of it.
When he’s finally done for the day, he picks up his clipboard and walks over to the desk.
“I’ll invoice the library,” he says. “Materials, labor, emergency call-out. Town Council can deal with it.”
Relief loosens something tight in my chest. “Thank you. Seriously.”
He hesitates, then adds, “There is, however, one additional fee.”
My stomach flips. “Oh?”
He smiles—slow and a little crooked. “Dinner. With me. I fix the library. You let me take you out.”
I fold my arms, trying and failing to look stern. “That seems highly unprofessional.”
He chuckles. “Totally. But optional.”
Optional.
I glance around at the half-repaired wall, the rescued books, at the man who showed up without hesitation when I panicked.
“Fine,” I say softly. “But only because you saved Christmas.”
His grin widens. “I wouldn’t go that far; I’m not Santa. But, I’ll take it.”
And just like that, this day—this ridiculous, chaotic, unexpected day—turns into something I don’t want to end.
“I’ll be back first thing in the morning to finish the wall. I can come before the library opens if you want to meet me here. You don’t have to. I can wait until 9. Just thinking it might be easier with the dust from sanding and everything if there weren’t any patrons here.”
“I can come in a bit earlier.”
“How’s 7? That should give me plenty of time.”
“It’s a date,” I reply without thinking.
Rhett raises a brow and chuckles. “Nice try. Our first date will be dinner. Not meeting at the library before it opens for some repairs.”
My cheeks flush. “Oh. Right. Of course. I meant…”
He reaches across the counter and squeezes my hand, gently. “I’m just teasing you. I’ll pick up something from Dockside on the way in. Do you have any special requests or should I just ask Emmy and Evie for the Bristol special?”
I shake my head. “Dear God, please don’t. There is no Bristol special and that’s really not necessary.”
“It might not be but I need my caffeine fix and I’m a sucker for their holiday treats. So, what can I bring you?”
“Fine. If you insist. I do love their peppermint hot chocolate and those buttery glazed croissants.”
“Perfect.” He shrugs on his jacket. “I’ll send the invoice to the library tonight.”
“And the…other fee?” I ask, my voice betraying me just a little.
A slow smile curves his mouth. “I’ll message you.”
My stomach flips with anticipation and excitement as he heads for the exit, tossing a casual wave over his shoulder.
When the automatic doors slide shut behind him, I lean against the desk and let out a breath. Dinner. With Rhett Jennings.
What am I doing?
I don’t date. I shelve books. I recommend cozy mysteries. I avoid emotional risks and men who make my heart do stupid things.
I already know this is how stories start—the ones where the sensible heroine makes one impulsive choice and everything changes.
And yet, I’m ready to jump head-first into what I’m hoping is my own happily ever after.