Chapter 5
5
T his was not going the way I’d planned it out in my head while baking and packing the care basket. Not at all. He was supposed to smile warmly and offer his hand, come stand next to me, looking down into my eyes. I cleared my throat and tried again. “My name is—”
“I can’t have anyone in here,” he said, gruff and without a hint of welcome in his tone. “With everything going on, it’s not safe.”
He pushed off the doorjamb where his shoulder had rested and strode toward me. Instead of the ridiculous romantic interaction I’d built in my head, this felt rather imposing. Instinctively, I took a step backward, then squeaked when the dog brushed up against my leg, growling low in his throat.
What was going on? Why didn’t the dog like me? All animals liked me. And why wasn’t Mr. Gorgeous acting the way I’d planned? This was a disaster, and now I just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide forever.
My gaze widened when I realized the huge stranger was still striding toward me, a look of consternation on his face. I didn’t know this man from Adam, did I? He could be a serial killer for all I knew! What had I been thinking? Backpedaling quickly, I tried to extricate myself from the situation while tumbling over my own feet and wobbling in place, doing my best not to walk on the dog while the basket swayed dangerously in my hands.
I needed to get out of there. “Well, I can see you’re busy.” I knew my words came out fast and that it sounded like I was babbling, but I no longer cared. “I didn’t mean to intrude or anything.” I took another step backward and did my best to ignore the dog and balance the heavy basket of goodies in my arms. “If you want, I’ll just leave these here for you to enjoy and—”
“I’m not looking for vendors,” he said, slowly shaking his head. At least he’d slowed his approach, though he was now only a few feet away. “I do all my own creations.” I caught a whiff of sugar and something spicy that instantly had my head spinning. He was now so close, I could see the color of his eyes—or, at least, I would have been able to, had the lights been on. But something told me they were a deep chocolate brown.
I didn’t understand the pull he had on me. It was like I couldn’t look away. Maybe it was the way people felt when they were staring into the eyes of an alert cobra. But was he dangerous? I needed to wrangle myself under control already, because I was clearly making a mess of this entire encounter, thanks to my flustered and nervous state.
“Did ya hear me, then?” He was talking again, and I started because I realized I hadn’t heard him and was, in fact, lost in my thoughts instead. That was a very dangerous place to be.
“I said I can’t have you in here,” he repeated. “It’s not safe.”
Two things occurred to me then—well, okay, three things. One, the faint accent I’d sworn I’d heard earlier told me the man was Scottish. Two, that explained the Scotty dog, though it seemed so cliché I almost giggled.
And three, he obviously thought I was there to push product on him so he’d sell my things in his candy shop. Didn’t he recognize me as the woman he nodded to earlier in the alleyway and on the street?
“I don’t think you understand,” I practically whispered, barely able to muster more. “My name is Ivy—”
The dog barked sharply, and I was so startled I threw up my hands and then watched, open-mouthed, as disaster instantly unfolded before my eyes. The laden sailed out of my hands and landed with a horrifying splat on the floor. A handful of sugar cookies shot out of the basket and heaven only knew what damage befell the rest of the contents. Without missing a beat, the dog turned tail and sprinted over to the mess. My heart-shaped sugar cookies now littered the man’s nice, clean floor.
Although, at the speed the dog was devouring them, the floor wouldn’t be messy for long.
“At least the dog likes the cookies,” I joked weakly, giving a one-shoulder shrug.
The man didn’t even crack a smile. He just continued to stare at me, arms crossed over his chest. “Look, miss, you’re trespassing, and I’ve asked you to leave. Seems to me I’d be in the right to call the police at this point.”
The who ? He was kidding, right? I giggled nervously. Wouldn’t he be surprised to find out we only had one official cop in Jingle Junction—our police chief, Chief Greer. The problem was that I knew Greer wouldn’t answer his call. Instead, it would be Eve, my stepsister, who came running. She fancied herself an amateur sleuth and loved to answer the calls the chief couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. She’d been manning the police station for years. If the stranger called Eve, I’d just bribe her with my award-winning German chocolate cake for a month. So, basically, his threat was almost laughable.
My family was eminently bribable with food.
But he didn’t know that. Or, it seemed, that they were my family at all.
“I don’t think I’m trespassing,” I said, trying to sound confident. This was all such a silly misunderstanding. I just needed to tell him who I was, and everything would smooth over, I was sure of it. Why then was I unable to actually get the words out?
He chuckled darkly. “Oh, you don’t? Well, I think otherwise.”
I mean technically I suppose I was trespassing, but since my family owned most of the real estate in Jingle Junction, I wouldn’t say I was exactly trespassing. More like poking my nose in where it wasn’t wanted.
Oh, dear.
“Maybe you shouldn’t leave your front door open then if you don’t want visitors,” I suggested.
It wasn’t my best line.
I’d come in ready to offer friendship and now was giving him attitude—totally not like me at all. At this point, though, I seemed to have lost all control of myself as I thought about Dad and this candy store and not knowing what was going on, while struggling with that weird connection I still felt to this stranger. It was like it was all piled up like a tottering tower of pastries that simply couldn’t stick together any longer.
“Trust me, in a small town like this, you’re just inviting drop-ins,” I prattled on. “We’re a friendly bunch here in Jingle Junction.”
The handsome Scot snorted. “So I noticed. Plenty of gawkers here today. I felt like an animal in the zoo.”
“We’re just curious is all. This used to be a pizza place, so I was surprised—I mean, I’m sure many were surprised—when the sign went up saying this was a sweet shop. I was wondering, are you—”
He didn’t want to chat, it turned out. I yelped again when large, strong hands reached out and grabbed my shoulders with surprising gentleness, then spun me around toward the door. “Go on now, before you get hurt, sue me, and I lose the store before I even open it.” And with that, he gave me a slight nudge toward the door, clearly done with my attempt at welcoming him to the street. “I got a mess to clean up here, thanks to you.”
My cheeks on fire, and my best laid plans shattered like the cookies the dog was finishing off, I hitched my breath before nodding. “Okay. Fine. I’m leaving.”
Humiliated, I all but sprinted out the door. What had I been thinking? The man was obviously lacking in manners. He’d practically thrown me out of his store! And for what reason? I was only trying to say hello and make him feel like he was part of the neighborhood.
I stopped in my tracks halfway across the street and groaned. “I wish I’d have thought to grab the basket.” I glanced back before resigning myself to the loss and finished my retreat across the street.
I went inside my bakery to get my purse, some leftover pastries, and a loaf of Italian bread, then locked the store’s front door behind me and sighed. Thinking back over tonight’s disaster made me wince. What I really wanted to do was go home and soak in my large tub and think about all the ways I could get back at the handsome candy maker. Maybe my mom would make me a doll that looked like the big Scotsman, and I could poke long pins in it. Giggling at that silly thought, feeling my stress release somewhat, I got behind the wheel of my car and headed for my dad and stepmom’s place.