Two
Tabitha
M y lunch break isn’t nearly long enough for bearding a dreamy, windblown ski instructor in his den, but I need to take the extra time to convince Liam to do me this favor. Christmas is in six days, and I will cross the finish line on this plan to meet ShreddingPages or…flail around a lot.
I almost said die trying but that’s extreme.
I feel extreme. Liam does this to me. The image of him on his knees, peering up through those soulful hazel eyes, will not budge, no matter how much I sternly remind myself that he’s not for me. Could you imagine?
I can. And have many times.
Yes, laughing is appropriate and highly suggested here. It’s fine. I know I’m not the kind of woman men like Liam gravitate to. I’m trying to change that. Must change it. That’s literally why I’m begging Liam MacLellan for this favor instead of the no one else who qualifies for the job.
“Please don’t say no,” I wheedle in dulcet tones. I hope.
“Tab, this is no small favor.”
Liam rakes his fingers through dark hair that’s always a little too long to stay civilized, heightening his Gilbert Blythe vibe. He even teases me the way Gilbert teases Anne (of Green Gables fame, in case you haven’t memorized a trillion books like those of us who live inside of them instead of in the real world). But I’m a spare little sister to him, and besides, the hottest guy in Kilt Valley does not need another wide-eyed groupie vying for his attention.
That’s why I’m focusing on someone more my own speed. Like ShreddingPages.
“Oh, yeah, no. I know,” I say with a cool, off-handed tone so he doesn’t clue in that my eyes are stinging a little. “I’m a hot mess. It would take a Christmas miracle to transform me into something suitable for public consumption in six days. What was I thinking? I wouldn’t want to coach me either.”
I laugh but Liam doesn’t. He makes a growly noise and something bright fills his gaze.
“That is not what I meant and you know it. I’m honored you thought of me first, though we’re going to have to circle back around to why you think you need the help.” He stares at me for a beat until I look away before his intensity burns my eyeballs. “The issue is that this is a terrible idea. How do you even know this guy from your book club is local? He might live in Timbuktu.”
“No, I asked him once and he said he’s not far from Breckenridge. Surely it wouldn’t be too much to ask him to drive less than thirty minutes to meet me.” Right? Is that presumptuous?
“There are at least a hundred other reasons this is not going to work out like you’re expecting it to.” Liam is trying to discourage me. Gently. But still.
I have a connection with ShreddingPages. I know I’m not imagining it. But if Liam opposes the idea this much, there must be a reason.
“It’s because I’m not vibrant and splashy enough, isn’t it.” It’s not a question because I already know I’m not the kind of woman a man would willingly drive harrowing, snowy roads to get to. I groan. Of course he’s right.
But then Liam does the strangest thing. He grabs my hand, his fingers wrapping around mine as if he’s done it a million times. In my dreams, yes. In real life, no, not even once.
Energy ripples across my skin, sapping my ability to do anything but sit there and experience it.
I might have lied a little when I said I’m used to him. I have known him my whole life, since the day I claimed the same swing as Lyra in kindergarten and she gave it to me with graciousness I still aspire to today. We’ve been in and out of each other’s houses since then, so I have been in the same room with Liam dozens upon dozens of times.
Despite this very long inoculation period, I still stumble over my tongue around him, or worse, my own two feet, and trust me, I am nowhere near as blasé about it as he is. I would have died of mortification if I’d been the one on the ground out in the lobby earlier, but he blew it off as if he’d intended to land in a pile.
“Any guy would be thrilled to find you waiting for him under the mistletoe, Tab,” he says with vehemence, as if trying to infuse it with truth by sheer force of will.
And this, more than anything, solidifies why this is such a good plan. If I practice on Liam, I can talk to any other guy on the planet. It’s like learning to climb mountains by starting with Everest. Instant expertise due solely to the sheer difficulty and magnificence of the task.
Plus, he’s always so nice to me, even though he doesn’t mean it like that . He’d never be interested in someone like me. I’m nothing like the flashy women I’ve seen him with over the years.
“See, that’s why I need you,” I insist. “You can build up my confidence so that I have an actual shot with ShreddingPages when I meet him in person.”
Oh, dear, what if he’s shy? The possibility has not occurred to me thus far, that I might cram for this exam, only to find out a guy who joined my book club is actually even more socially awkward than I am.
“I’m not making a dent in your determination to do this thing, am I?” Liam smiles and I forget everything except how good it feels to bask in his sunshine.
The other thing I might have considered? If he agrees, I get to spend time with him. No one has to know I’m practically giddy about that part alone.
I shake my head and go for broke. “If you won’t do it, then I’ll find someone else.”
There is no one else. Desperate times, desperate measures.
Meeting ShreddingPages is happening with or without Liam, but it will go so much better if I have a clue how to, you know, talk to this guy in person. That’s the only reason I asked my best friend’s brother, of all people, for this ill-advised favor. Liam is the ill-advised part, in case you didn’t figure out that he’s a stone-cold player who probably doesn’t even remember the name of the last girl he dated.
But that’s what makes him perfect.
He knows what he likes in a woman. He has a lot of practice weeding out the wheat from the chaff. If I can get him to coach me, I have a shot at actually coming across as a confident woman that a man might want to spend time with.
He sighs. “I’ll do it but only because it feels like you need to be saved from yourself.”
My feet practically break out in an impromptu dance that will end with me in that heap on the floor, so I refrain. Mostly. “Thank you, Liam, I owe you big time. No expiration date.”
He eyes me with something that I might label curiosity in a man who isn’t practically a relation. “What kind of favor do I get in return?”
“No limit.” My cheeks heat. “I mean, obviously there are limits. But I know you’ll be a gentleman about it. Come by the store tonight after closing and I’ll show you my plan.”
If I lay out what I expect from these sessions, Liam will see how easy this will be for him. I will make it easy by being the best pupil ever.
“There’s a plan?” he says with mock weary resignation.
But then he shoots me a smile that tells me he’s okay with it. I’m sure it’s no shock that I’ve obsessed over a thorough syllabus for this course work so there’s no chance of failure.
I glance at my phone and yelp at the time. “I have to go. See you later. You won’t regret this.”
“Pretty sure I will,” he calls after me as I set off at a brisk trot toward my car parked in the south resort lot.
The drive from the resort back into town is beautiful this time of year. Everything in Kilt Valley is decked out for the holidays, with long strands of bushy garland strung between iron lamp posts, tied beneath the frosted globes with thick red ribbon bows. An enormous, decorated tree sits in the center of the town square, and the star on top faces Thistledown Books, my one true love. For now. Hopefully, that will change soon.
My aunt Justine waves from the door of Tartan Treats, where several of my cousins are likely in the back making the bakery’s famous cupcakes. A Douglas owns nearly all of the businesses on the square, which is nice. And intrusive sometimes. I slide into a free spot behind the bookstore, a minor miracle this time of year, hurrying to the front through one of the pass-throughs between buildings.
My phone buzzes as I scurry through the door of Thistledown Books, automatically straightening the Merry Christmas banner in the front window.
The text message is spam, but when I check my notifications, I see a missed one from Lyra.
Lyra : Why did I just see you leave the employee break room with Liam?
Tabitha : I sense you’re looking for an answer other than because I was inside the employee break room with Liam and I left it?
Lyra : Soooo many questions. Let’s start with why you didn’t say hi to me if you came all the way up the mountain?
Tabitha : I was in a rush
Mostly to get out of the atmosphere that smelled like Liam, a combination of man and pine and something citrusy. How in the world will I function in close quarters while he coaches me? That’s the only flaw in this plan.
Lyra : Uh, no. That was not the reason. Spill
I sigh. Lyra knows me better than anyone on this earth, which is feeling more like a curse than a blessing at this moment. But in all honesty, I should have run this by her first and didn’t. I already know what she’s going to say.
Which does not excuse me from telling my best friend what’s going on.
Tabitha : I’m going to ask ShreddingPages to meet me under the mistletoe on Christmas day. I asked Liam to help me prepare
Lyra : …
Lyra : …
Lyra : Is this about your dad pressuring you to take over the Kilt Valley Heritage Trust after the holidays?
It isn’t not about that. But it isn’t only about that.
Tabitha : It’s about
The door chimes as a customer strolls in. I stash my phone in favor of helping the woman who has the tourist look about her. That can go either way—a lot of Kilt Valley guests love the charm and ambiance of our Scottish village in the Rockies. Oftentimes, that alone makes them open their wallets the moment they step into the town square.
My father, aunts, and uncles get giddy over their bank accounts this time of year, but I just want to talk about books. Which I do long enough to almost forget I never answered Lyra.
Finally, I shut the door after the last customer leaves for the day and lock it. Liam should be here soon, which I have not forgotten for a single second.
I not only owe Lyra an answer, I owe it to myself to be honest.
Tabitha : Okay, yes. It’s about the Heritage thing. Which is causing me to make questionable decisions
Tabitha : I just don’t want to run anything but the bookstore and my own life
Lyra : That’s what you need to be telling your dad
Tabitha : Thanks Captain Obvious
Lyra : Haha, I wish you could just tell him you don’t want to take over as chair
Tabitha : Well I can’t. I suck at conflict and I need to learn some confidence
Lyra : I’m starting to get the picture
Tabitha : If you’re picturing me finding the courage to meet a guy I’m crushing on, can you also picture me figuring out how to say the big N-O to Graham Douglas?
Lyra : Still not sure how this situation is improved with the addition of Liam. That’s never helped anything
Just as I’m about to respond, the brother in question knocks on the glass pane at the front. My pulse does this thing that feels like an elephant stomping on my throat. I’m not only nervous about how much I want this plan to work, I suddenly worry that I’m not going to slay this assignment.
The time for that realization should have been earlier today—before I talked Liam into this.
When I open the door to admit Liam and a few swirling snowflakes, he’s framed in the doorway for a second. Behind him, mistletoe hangs from the lamppost in the square. With his cold-reddened cheeks and twinkling, hazel eyes peeking out from beneath his knit cap, he’s hotter than all the actors named Chris put together.
And my heart squeezes. If only…
“I brought food.” Liam lifts the bags in his hands.
Not just food, but Tartan Tavern, which is the bar at the resort. It’s my favorite guilty pleasure because it’s one of the few places to eat in town that my family doesn’t own.
Does he know how much I love the hamburgers there? He couldn’t possibly. It’s coincidence. Because he works at the resort and probably gets an employee discount. Or everything handed to him on a silver platter because his last name is the same as on the sign out in front of the resort.
Liam follows me to one of the cozy reading nooks in the back where we can sit at a table and passersby can’t see us (not for any privacy reasons but so they don’t think the store is still open)(okay, I like the idea of being tucked away in the corner with Liam. It’s not a crime).
“Blame Lyra if the Slope Burger isn’t made right,” Liam says and hands me one of the bags. “She gave me a super hard time about helping you, which of course made me want to do it even more.”
He laughs, but the hamburger in this bag weighs a million pounds all at once and I’m having trouble swallowing. “You asked Lyra what I like?”
“Sure.” Liam shrugs like this is no big deal, when in fact, it is a very big deal. “I wasn’t going to just get something and force you to eat it. What if you’re a vegetarian or something?”
“But you’re doing me a favor.” More swallowing. “You’re not supposed to be charming and thoughtful.”
That’s when he winks. “For you, I can do all three at once.”