Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Rose spent the rest of the week preparing for the big holiday market, and she was so busy making wreaths and mistletoe bouquets that she barely thought about that kiss with Nick.
Only every other minute of the day.
It was just so unexpected, to find herself in a passionate clinch with…
Him. They’d always quipped and bantered, and sure, she’d found him attractive, but in the same way she found Hollywood movie stars or her married friends’ husbands good-looking: Objectively easy on the eye, but so far out of the realm of possibility that it was like admiring a statue or painting. Look, but don’t touch.
Except now she had touched Nick: Run her hands over his chest, felt the heat of his body pressed against her. In an instant, he’d gone from an abstract concept to a living, breathing, kissing man. Flesh and blood.
And what fine flesh…
She blushed, pushing the steamy memories aside as she set up her booth out in the town square on Saturday morning.
The annual Sweetbriar Cove holiday market was always a highlight of the season, with vendors gathering from all over Cape Cod to sell their wares.
Gifts, clothing, souvenirs… The entire square was given over to the different market stalls, all decorated with lights and holiday swag, and concession stands sent the smell of roasting nuts, fresh-baked molasses cookies, and stollen loaves drifting over the town.
Rose unpacked another box of holiday wreaths, proudly hanging them on wire displays and hooks across the top of her stall.
She’d been busy crafting them all month, everything from traditional fresh fir branches and pine cones, to more outlandish designs sprayed with gold glitter, and adorned with neon ribbons and gems. She’d figured shoppers would be looking for last minute décor and hostess gifts, as well as her usual bouquets, and she was right.
She was still setting up her displays when Aunt June appeared, bustling through the crowd of early shoppers already beginning to form.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.
” June greeted Rose, catching her breath.
She took in the stall, and her eyebrows shot up.
“My, you’ve got yourself a prime spot this year.
Next to the mulled wine, across from Santa’s Grotto…
Who did you have to slip a little sugar to for the upgrade? ”
Rose laughed out loud in surprise. “No sugar,” she reassured June. “But I might have helped Franny out with some last minute flowers for her cousin’s birthday… Of course, it was a complete coincidence that she was drawing up the vendor chart at the time.”
“Of course.” June agreed, giving her a wink. “Now, I need to reserve some of these glorious wreaths before you sell out. I have eight holiday parties this week, and the thought of picking out different gifts is enough to make me want to cancel them all and stay home.”
Rose smiled. “You, miss a party? Never.”
She began showing June some of the designs. “I have Christmas-themed ones over here, plus Hanukah, winterfest, generally fabulous…”
“I’ll take five of the traditional ones, two silver, and this neon pink affair for Earl,” June smirked. “He’s always so understated, he’ll love the sparkles, I’m sure.”
Rose laughed, trying to picture taciturn old Earl accepting that pink monstrosity with a straight face. “I’d love to see it,” she said, setting them aside. “Do you need delivery?”
“Oh no, I’ll have someone pick them up,” June said, paying. “I’m sure one of these strapping young men will be happy to help me.”
Rose had to smile. She had no doubt at all that the older woman would find some unsuspecting volunteer to cart her shopping around, and maybe even land herself Husband Number 5 in the process.
Or was it Number 6?
Rose turned back to ringing up the wreaths, but as she did, her eyes caught on a crimson sweater in the crowd—and the dark-haired, broad-shouldered man wearing it.
Nick.
She felt a jolt of adrenaline spark in her veins, cheeks heating as the memory of the kiss came rushing back in a flurry of hot, sensual flashes. His hands, tangling in her hair… Her back up against the bench…
“I wanted to say, how sorry I was to hear about you and Scott.”
“Huh?” Rose stared blankly at June, her mind a million miles away—or rather, thirty feet, over by the ceramics stall, where Nick was chatting to their friend, Mackenzie.
“The breakup?” June prompted, but Rose was so scrambled by seeing Nick again that she was half a beat behind.
June followed Rose’s gaze across the market. Her frown smoothed into a knowing smile. “But perhaps congratulations are in order instead. Out with the old, in with the new, and all that jazz.”
Rose gulped. June was a prize gossip, and the last thing she wanted was word about that kiss getting around town. No, she’d learned her lesson now: She was keeping her romantic life under wraps.
If she even had one to gossip about.
“Nothing new to report.” Rose said firmly.
“Mmhmm,” June smirked, clearly not convinced. “Between us, I never liked that Scott. You’re far too good for a pretentious dolt like him. Go get yourself something fun for the holidays,” she added, as Nick made his way over.
“Holiday fun?” he echoed, catching the last few words. “Where to begin in a town like this? I swear, you have every day scheduled down to the last minute.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” June said with a sly grin. “There’s always time for some extra-curricular activities.” And with another wink, she sailed away, leaving Rose trying to collect herself.
“Hi,” she managed, sounding about as casual as she could, considering the last time she’d seen him, he’d had his tongue in her mouth.
Kissing her with sure, possessive passion…
“Good morning,” Nick smiled casually back at her, hair still damp and ruffled, his hands curled around a paper cup of coffee. “How’s trade?”
“Great!” she blurted. “At least, I think it will be, once things get going. The weather’s nice. I mean, it would be great to have some more snow,” she continued babbling. “Just not during the market. We want customers lingering, not retreating inside to keep dry!”
Rose forced herself to be quiet. What was wrong with her? But if Nick had noticed her blabbermouth, he wasn’t showing it; or displaying any hint of awkwardness himself. “Looks like a good turnout,” he said, taking in the crowds. “Are you all set for the rush?”
“Well, actually…” Rose paused, assessing her stock. “June just bought up a bunch of my wreaths. Would you be able to keep an eye the stall while I go run and fetch some more?” she asked. “I usually have help, but my assistant called in sick today.”
“I can go get them,” Nick offered. “In fact, I insist.”
“No, really—” Rose tried to interrupt, but Nick just gave her a look.
“Leave you to haul the heavy boxes while I put my feet up here? My mother would fly across the Atlantic just to give me a piece of her mind, and believe me, neither of us want that particular reunion. Keys?”
Rose passed them to him. “The boxes are right by the door,” she said. “And thank you!”
She watched him stroll off into the crowd, and she let out a sigh of relief. Or was it regret? Because either way, Nick was acting perfectly normal, as if nothing had changed between them.
As if the kiss had never happened.
Which was a good thing, she tried to tell herself. After all, he’d said she needed a palate cleanser, or a greasy pancake, or whatever the metaphor was, and that he was happy to offer his services. The kiss had clearly meant nothing to him, and why would it?
Nick Sterling kissed a different woman every week without breaking stride.
So, Rose needed to get past her red cheeks and inconvenient flashbacks if she was going to stay friends with him.
Which she wanted. Despite their teasing, Nick was a decent guy; he always found a way to make her laugh, and she knew she could rely on him to lend a hand any time she needed.
Like today. Soon, he returned with the extra boxes of wreaths, and Rose was swamped by a flurry of customers—but to her surprise, Nick didn’t leave her side.
“Get your wreaths,” he bellowed happily, drawing attention from passersby. “Gorgeous holiday wreaths! Step right up!”
“Is that a… Cockney accent?” she asked, delighted, as Nick’s market caller routine became more Dick Van Dyke by the minute.
“I’ll have you know, I was in a school production of Oliver Twist once,” Nick announced proudly. “Could have gone all the way to the West End, if I wanted.”
“Of course, you could have,” she agreed, laughing.
He grinned back. “I’m getting the distinct impression you’re mocking me.”
“Me? Never!” Rose smirked. “You should go tell Debra about your thespian ambitions. They could use a new leading man in the Sweetbriar Players.”
“Maybe I will…” Nick mused. “I could use a new project. Idle hands, and all that.”
Rose cleared her throat. She had vivid memories of just what Nick could do with those hands.
Sliding around her waist… Cupping her cheek…
“Rosie.”
She turned with a jolt. There was only one person who called her that, and sure enough, Scott was standing there, wearing the blue cashmere sweater she’d got him for his birthday—and with his arm draped around another woman.
Rose’s heart twisted.
The woman was petite and dark-haired, with cat-eye glasses and razor cut bangs. She looked smart. Urbane. Just Scott’s type.
“Hi,” she greeted them, forcing a smile. “How have you been?”
“Great,” Scott replied immediately. “My agent loves the new pages. Says this book will sell for sure.”
“Scott’s an amazing writer,” the dark-haired woman added loyally—just the way Rose would have, only a few days ago.
She’d been well and truly replaced.
Rose swallowed back the lump in her throat. She wished the ground would open and swallow her up, anything to keep her from this sense of pathetic rejection.
And then she felt it: Nick’s arm, sliding around her waist. Drawing her closer.