Chapter 14
Fourteen
Holly
The “Home for the Holidays” Pet Adoption Drive is exactly the kind of event that usually warms my cockles in the deepest way.
The community center parking lot has been transformed into a wonderland of hope—colorful banners flutter in the December breeze, and portable heaters circle the pavement like sentries, guarding our charges against the cold.
There are older dogs and puppies tumbling over each other in fenced-in play areas, kittens batting at dangling toys in the cat encounter pavilion, and even a pair of rabbits who seem deeply unimpressed by all the fuss.
Hopeful pet parents wander the lot, their faces lit with that special glow that comes with knowing they’re about to add a new member to their family. Just in time for Christmas.
It should be perfect. And it would be, if my stomach wasn’t currently doing its best impression of a rock.
A stressed-out rock, considering hurling itself into the frozen river across the street and sinking to the bottom…
“Stop chewing your thumbnail,” Candy says, appearing at my elbow with two cups of cider. “You’re going to draw blood.”
I drop my hand guiltily, accepting the hot drink. “How long was I gnawing?”
“At least five minutes. The entire time I was in line for drinks.” She gives me that look, the one that says she can see right through me.
“He’s going to show up, Holly. And when he does, everything will be fine.
I’m sure he’s just been busy the last couple of days.
That’s all. He’s a billionaire, girl. You don’t get that filthy rich without being a workaholic. ”
I want to believe her. So badly.
But Luke’s texts since Wednesday have been different. Shorter. More formal. The kind of messages you’d send to a business associate, not someone you danced with until midnight and super-steamy-kissed on their front porch.
Thursday morning, on my way to another vet photo shoot in Bellows Falls, I texted him good morning with a coffee emoji and a heart. Then, a few hours later, I sent over several shots from my session.
He responded six hours later with—Looks like it went well.
That’s it! No commentary on the cuteness of the cats or the puppy with one blue eye and one brown eye. No sharing about his day.
No heart emoji in return…
Then, this morning, I shot over a meme about gingerbread houses and asked if he wanted to grab lunch before the event. He replied—Attending to some urgent email. Will meet you at the community center at two.
“He did mention urgent emails in his text this morning,” I say.
He did, but my spidey sense is still shouting that something’s not right.
“Exactly.” Candy puts an arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze. “You’re spiraling for no reason. Everything’s going to be fine. You guys had an incredible first date and days of cutey patootie texts. That doesn’t just evaporate overnight.”
I nod, willing myself to believe her. Friday night was magical, and so were our texts. He flat-out said he liked me, for goodness’ sake, which I know is a huge deal for someone like Luke.
He’s probably just still recovering from being sick and scrambling to catch up on missed work, that’s all.
I know that drill. I was sick during prime pet portrait season two years ago. I felt like I’d been run over by a truck until sometime in February. Getting behind is no joke when you’re a solo entrepreneur.
Or, I would imagine, when you’re the head big boss in charge of a giant international company.
“Right,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “This is silly. I’m going to stop worrying and enjoy the day.”
Candy grins. “As you should. Now come on, let me help you finish setting up your station before I have to head to work. These fur babies are going to need glamour shots to celebrate sealing the deal with their new families.”
We head over to the small tent where I’ve set up a backdrop and lighting for adoption photos to give new families a keepsake of their special day.
It’s one of my favorite volunteer gigs, honestly.
There’s something about capturing that first moment when a family finds their new best friend that never gets old.
I’m adjusting the backdrop—a cheerful winter scene with snowflakes and pine trees—when Candy coos from behind me, “Well, hello there, Mr. Ratcliffe. Don’t you clean up nice?”
My heart does a gymnastics floor routine as I turn, fighting to keep my anxiety from showing on my face.
Luke stands at the edge of the tent, looking yummier than ever in dark jeans and a cream Fair Isle sweater.
His hair is slightly windswept, his jaw shadowed with just enough stubble to remind my cheeks how nice it felt to kiss him, and for a moment, the hormonal storm raging inside me is so intense I don’t notice the stiffness in his posture.
But then our eyes meet, and the rock in my stomach turns into a hunk of lead.
His expression is totally blank.
Not warm, not cold, not happy or sad or nervous or irritated, just…empty.
The thought that he’s been body-snatched by aliens flits through my head as I say in a wobbly voice, “Hey there. Right on time.”
“I said I would be.” His tone is polite, but distant, like we’re strangers making small talk at a bus stop. “Where would you like me to start? I assume I should collect a vest from the volunteer table?”
I blink, my head still spinning.
What do I need him to do? How about be normal? Be Luke? How about giving me the slightest hint what the heck’s going on with him right now?
But I can’t say any of that, not with Candy standing right there and dozens of people milling about, expecting holiday cheer and cute critters, not raised voices and interpersonal drama.
“Um, well, I… I thought,” I fumble, trying to inject some warmth into my voice as I motion to my right.
“I told Janet, the organizer, that I thought you would be a great help with the anxious dogs. You did so well with them at the photo shoot, and some of these guys aren’t happy to be in a noisy environment.
We just need someone to sit with them, walk them, whatever it takes to help them relax and put their best foot forward for the adopting families. ”
“Got it.” He nods. “I’ll check in with Janet and get to work.”
“Great!” My voice is too bright, forced, and I hate it. “Oh, and I heard Elliot, Bran, and Ashton went caroling the other night in Reindeer Corners. Did they have fun? Candy said they swung into the inn for homemade meringue after the—”
“They had a wonderful time, yes,” he cuts in. “Big fans of the hot chocolate.”
Before I can ask what he did Wednesday night, while his siblings were out having fun, or apologize again for needing to cancel, he’s gone, striding smoothly toward the volunteer table.
I stand frozen, smile crumpling.
Candy sidles up beside me, her voice low. “What the hell was that?”
“I have no idea,” I whisper back, my throat tight.
“His brothers and sister were so nice,” Candy says, shaking her head. “Like, really nice.”
“Yeah, you said. I wish I could have met them again,” I mumble.
But I’d already been down the block at the church by that point, doing an engagement night photo shoot for Thad and Margot.
After a pep talk for the ages, I’d captured Thad’s proposal by the tree in the lobby beautifully, but they’d wanted something more private after, and they weren’t in any rush.
By the time we finally finished up, the streets in Reindeer Corners were deserted, and I was dead on my feet. If Candy hadn’t saved me three meringues to sugar rush me over the mountain, I’m pretty sure I would have fallen asleep at the wheel.
I shake my head. “I’m so confused. I mean, I explained why I had to cancel, and he said he understood, but… Maybe he didn’t? Maybe I messed up?” I wince, hating how pathetic I sound.
“No way.” Candy is as fiercely loyal as always.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You took advantage of an opportunity to make some extra money.
Money you need as a single woman to provide for your safety and your future.
” She crosses her arms with a huff. “If Mr. Moneybags, the pouty sociopath, doesn’t get that real people can’t afford to pass up a paycheck, he can fuck right off. Pardon my French.”
Candy very rarely curses, a fact that only emphasizes how bad this is.
How scary…
How could the kind, sexy man who looked at me like I was all he wanted for Christmas suddenly turn into an emotionally vacant pod person in a matter of days? For no apparent reason?
No, there must be a reason.
Luke isn’t a sociopath, I know he’s not.
I need to talk to him. Really talk to him. After the event when we can have a private heart-to-heart.
“Do you want me to stay?” Candy asks. “At least for a few more hours? I can ask Kayla to cover me until five or—”
“No, no,” I say, forcing a smile as I wave a hand through the air. “Go. Get to work. I’m fine. Luke and I will sort it out.”
She searches my face. “Are you sure?”
I nod emphatically. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll text you later.”
“Please, do,” she says, as she backs out of the tent. “I want to know you’re okay. And don’t take any guff, all right? This is the season of joy, not the season of taking guff.”
I laugh and nod again. “Yes. I promise. Bye, drive safe.”
I turn back to organizing my equipment, trying not to spiral any further. This is weird, but there has to be some reasonable explanation. Luke and I will talk later, get to the bottom of what happened, and things will go back to the way they were.
Throughout the afternoon, I watch him from the corner of my eye.