Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
It was Christmas Eve, and Rose couldn’t have felt less festive if she’d tried.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.” Jules insisted. “You need fun. And cookies. Baking at Summer’s will be like killing two birds with one delicious, cookie-shaped stone!”
Rose shook her head. “Do you even hear the metaphors you’re mixing right now? And I can’t just take the afternoon off. I have customers.”
“Really?” Jules put her hand to her forehead, like she was scanning the horizon. “I don’t see any. They must all know to steer clear of that scowl.”
“I’m not scowling.”
“No, you’re wallowing, which is even worse.”
“What do you expect?” Rose exploded with frustration and hurt. “I’ve been dumped twice in the space of a week! It turns out, Nick was only ever looking for a good time, so here I am, alone for the holidays. Again!”
She slumped against the counter with a mournful sigh.
“Have you tried talking to him?” Jules asked. “It’s just so weird, the two of you were having so much fun.”
“Right. Fun.” Rose repeated bitterly. “I guess he has a radar that sounds the alarm the minute a woman starts thinking about anything more. Because it was uncanny, how fast he ran once the future was on my mind.”
Jules looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I thought he would be different with you.”
“That makes two of us.”
Rose felt an ache in her chest. How was it possible to miss Nick more after spending one night with him than her ex, after dating Scott for months? It was a cruel twist, either way.
And she was the fool who’d thought things with Nick could be something real.
“Well, I’m not letting you mope around here,” Jules declared. “It’s cookie time. Get your coat.”
Rose didn’t have the heart to protest any more, and to tell the truth, she didn’t want to face another evening alone at home. So, she got her things and drove with Jules to the bakery on Blackberry Lane, where Summer was hosting a last-minute cookie-baking extravaganza.
“Welcome!” the cake queen herself ushered them in.
After hours, the storefront was silent, but the kitchen in the back was a buzz of warmth and activity.
Mackenzie and Cassie were cutting festive shapes from a counter of rolled-out dough, and their friend, Evie, had a streak of flour in her hair and a look of concentration on her face as she carefully iced a batch of snowflakes.
“There!” Evie exclaimed triumphantly. “Eat your heart out Prue and Paul, look at that sugar-work.”
Rose tried to muster a smile. “They look great.”
“I hope so,” Summer added, joining them. “I still have two-dozen boxes to fill!”
“Ah, so you’re really just using us for free labor, under the guise of a party,” Jules said with a smirk.
“I’m an excellent multitasker.” Summer gave them a wink—and served up some mugs of eggnog. “Rose, you go mix up the molasses dough. Jules, take a cookie-cutter. Evie, keep up the good frosting!”
Rose was happy to follow orders and mixing up the spiced dough gave her something to do—something other than go over the past week with Nick in her mind, wondering where it all went wrong.
One minute, he’d been sending flirty texts, and the next, he’d given her that bland smile of his, and strolled away like their time together hadn’t meant anything at all.
And maybe it didn’t, to him. Maybe she’d been the only one getting caught up in the romance and adventure, dreaming about a future…
“Mmmm, yum.” Evie tasted the dough. “Why is it that cookies always taste so much better, raw from the bowl?”
“Speak for yourself,” Rose replied, lightly tapping Evie’s hand with her spoon. “I like mine all hot and gooey, fresh from the oven.”
“Speaking of hot and gooey…” Evie gave a smirk. “How’s Nick?”
“Ahem!” Jules interrupted, shaking her head frantically. “Ix-nay on the ick-Nay.”
“What does that mean?” Evie frowned. “My pig Latin is rusty.”
“She means, Nick is no longer in the picture,” Rose explained, swallowing back a pang—and a large gulp of eggnog. “It was just a fling.”
“Really?” Evie looked disappointed. “I could have sworn from the way he was looking at you—oww,” she yelped, as Jules jammed her elbow into her ribs. Evie took the hint, and quickly smiled. “Never mind, I’m sure it’s for the best. Onward and upward!”
“Thanks.” Rose took another, bigger gulp.
She was going to need more brandy in her eggnog if she was going to make it through all this good cheer with a smile on her face.
“I guess I should have seen it coming. ‘Notorious playboy is allergic to commitment’,” she said wryly.
“It’s not exactly front-page news for the Cape Cod Caller, is it now? ”
Cassie looked up at that, from where she was liberally icing some gingerbread men. “But you’re back with Scott, aren’t you?”
Rose blinked, surprised. “What? No.”
“But, I thought…” Cassie frowned. “You guys were making out in the square, just the other day.”
Rose snorted. “You mean, Scott decided to stick his tongue down my throat.” She shuddered at the memory.
“So you aren’t still in love with him?” Cassie bit her lip.
“Not even a little,” Rose replied.
“Oh.”
Rose paused. There was something in Cassie’s expression that said there was more to her questions than just friendly curiosity. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Well… I shouldn’t really say…” Cassie looked torn. “It’s just… Nick was there. The other night. When you were making out with Scott. I mean, that’s what it looked like to us.”
Rose’s stomach dropped. “He saw us together?” she asked, her mind racing. “And he thought…?”
“That you two were getting back together.” Cassie nodded.
And suddenly, it all made sense.
“That’s why he called it off,” she said, with a heavy heart. “He jumped to conclusions, and just assumed the worst about me.”
“It did look pretty romantic from where we were standing,” Cassie offered. “I mean, the lights, the snow, the other guy sucking your face… But you can talk to him now,” she added, looking hopeful. “There was a totally innocent explanation. And then everything will be alright between you again!”
But Rose shook her head. “He could have asked me about it, he could have said something. Instead, he just bailed without a word.”
“I’m sure he was just hurt.”
“Well, so am I.” Rose couldn’t believe it. All this heartache, because Nick thought she would run around behind his back. What kind of woman did he think she was?
“Rose—”
“No, it’s fine.” She cut off Cassie. “Really. It just shows that we weren’t meant to be.”
Cassie didn’t look convinced, but luckily, Evie and Jules rejoined them, talking loudly about holiday movie rankings, and how they could convince Franny to let them screen Die Hard in the town square.
“I don’t know if it’s exactly family-friendly.” Evie was saying. “Yippie-kai-yay and all?”
“We can dub it!” Jules exclaimed. “Mother-fluffers. Easy.”
Rose was glad of the change in subject. She joined in the debate, and scooped batches of cookies, and spent the rest of the afternoon gossiping with her friends about everything except Nick.
But when the baking session was over, and Jules dropped her back in town, she couldn’t ignore the hurt she felt, knotted up tightly in her chest.
“You’ll be OK?” Jules asked, leaning over from the driver’s side. “You can always come hang with me and Reeve at the vineyard. His sister and her kids are all in town, I could use the backup.”
Rose smiled. “I’ll be fine. Thanks,” she added. “And I go to Poppy’s every year for her big holiday dinner, so you don’t need to worry about me being on my own.”
“I won’t.” Jules gave her a grin. “Merry Christmas.”
“You too.”
Rose slammed the car door behind her; but paused before unlocking the door to her apartment.
She was out of milk, and she was definitely going to need ice cream if she was spending Christmas Eve alone.
And chocolate. She crossed the dark square to the market, dashing in just before it closed, and quickly grabbed a few essentials from the aisles before arriving, breathless, at the register.
“Big night?” Aunt June was also there, with a basket full of cheese and wine. “I wouldn’t have taken Mr. Sterling for a Chunky Monkey kind of man.”
“Change of plans,” Rose said, feeling the sting of regret.
“Pity. I would have thought you two would be out, trying to solve the last clue of the race.”
Rose looked up. “What do you mean? The scavenger hunt is over.”
“Didn’t you hear?” June lit up with the glow of gossip.
“Turns out, the Swedes cheated! They paid off the print shop to slip them the clues ahead of time. They’ve been disqualified and stripped of their title.
Which means the grand prize is still up for grabs—and as I recall, you and Nick were still in the running. ”
Rose felt a flicker of excitement—but quickly dampened it down. She was competing in a team, and her other half wanted nothing more to do with her.
“I guess someone else will figure it out,” she said, taking her bag of groceries. “Good luck to them.”
She headed home, feeling worn out. The past few days had been such a roller-coaster, it was hard to believe that only one week ago, Nick had strolled into the back room of her shop with a gingerbread cookie and a charming smile, and offered himself up to her on a platter.
She should have kept to the cookie. Maybe then she wouldn’t have wound up with a sugar crash and a broken heart.
Carolers were out in the square, and the big holiday tree twinkled in the dusk light, but all the festivities felt hollow to Rose now. She should be celebrating with Nick, and she would be, too, if he hadn’t been so quick to judge.
She crossed the street, ignoring the happy couples out strolling in the snow, and balanced her groceries on one hip as she rummaged for her keys.
There was a small, gift-wrapped box sitting on her step.
Rose looked around, but there was nobody nearby. She picked it up and let herself in, waiting until she’d stripped off her coat and boots—and stashed the ice cream safely in the freezer—before turning her attention to the mysterious gift.
It was probably from Evie or Jules, she decided, examining the neat red wrapping paper. No doubt an effort to cheer her up. They really were sweet. Or she was being truly pathetic.
She undid the ribbon and peeled off the paper. There was a plain brown box inside, battered at the edges, and she paused. It looked awfully familiar…
Because it was her box. The one she kept her ornaments in. But how…?
Rose pulled the lid off, her confusion growing—until she saw what was inside, nestled in a careful crown of tissue paper.
It was her grandmother’s crystal star ornament—in perfect condition. The cracks and shattered pieces were somehow magically restored, the damage barely visible if she hadn’t known where to look.
There was a note, too. ‘Every holiday needs some sparkle. Merry Christmas.’
Nick.
Rose swallowed, pressing the note to her chest. Damn him, for doing something so sweet.
She hadn’t even noticed him sneak it out the other morning when he’d left, and how he even found someone who could restore it on zero notice, right before the holidays, she had no idea.
But somehow, he’d found a way to take something she treasured, and bring it back to her, brand new.
But still, he couldn’t just ask her straight out what had happened with Scott.
She sighed, wrestling it over in her mind all evening. She knew he had heartbreak in his past, that his fiancée had cheated on him, but still, that was no excuse to write her off as just the same.
Was it?
Rose felt a surge of annoyance at Nick’s stubborn pride.
He was the one with the playboy reputation, Mr. ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’, with a little black book that probably contained half the women on the Cape. She’d taken a chance on him.
And now he was out there, thinking she was the one with no romantic morals?
This was supposed to be simple. Easy. A fun, sexy fling. Until he’d turned out to be more than she’d bargained for.
Until Nick freaking Sterling had made her feel like maybe they were the perfect match.
Damn him.
So what was she going to do about it?
Rose grabbed her coat and headed for the door.
She’d already wasted enough of her life quietly pining after a man, waiting for him to make the right move.
She wasn’t about to let any more time slip past—not when she knew exactly what she’d be missing out on.
The fun, the adventure, the spark of heat that flared whenever Nick gave her that smoldering grin of his…
She’d started all of this, back with that impulsive kiss, and it was clearly still the week for wild decisions, which is how she found herself in the front seat of her florist van, hurtling down the winding country roads to Nick’s fancy beach house.
She was crazy, she told herself, pulling up outside in the dark. He was probably out, partying the night away somewhere, or getting cozy with a gorgeous woman. He wouldn’t be hanging around on Christmas Eve. He wouldn’t have been wallowing, miserable, the way she had ever since he said goodbye.
She strode up the path and hammered on the door, before she could lose her nerve.
Silence.
The lights were all on inside, shining out across the dark shoreline, so she hammered again. “Nick?” she called. “Are you in there?”
There was the muffled sound of movement. “OK, OK,” Nick’s voice sounded, coming closer. “I’m here. What do you—?”
His voice stopped as he flung open the door and saw her standing there. “Rose?” he asked, frowning.
He looked a mess. Unshaven, tousled hair, and the wafting aroma of fine whiskey. And still, Rose wanted to hurl herself into his arms.
She swallowed instead and looked at him dead-on.
“Come with me, we’re going to finish the game.”