Chapter Three
Clara
I’m going to have to call Travis because Eric is not an electrician no matter how much he wanted to fix my snowman. The fact that he tried, though, warms my heart.
He’s back and I think it might be for good.
Or is that wishful thinking?
I think being here is good for him, especially after the trauma of getting fired because of someone he thought was a friend. In less than twenty-four hours, Eric has pulled the proverbial stick out of his butt and relaxed. It’s great seeing his easygoing smile again.
Every time the hurt trickles back in, I attempt to push it out. He’s not perfect. Neither of us are. And, he’s here, being in the moment with me. Eric always has been and always will be my person.
As he drives my car, I can’t help but sneak peeks at him.
He’s belting out the lyrics to “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby, intensely focusing on the snowy drive.
I like watching him when he lets loose. In his dark gray pea coat and styled dark hair, he could totally be transformed to a 1950s Christmas era and fit in.
He certainly looks the part with his roguish grin and enigmatic aura.
Are you crushing on your stepbrother again, Clara? I thought we were over this.
Apparently not. I can’t count how many times I’ve compared guys I’ve dated to Eric. If only they were funnier like him or more thoughtful like him. If only they knew their way around the kitchen like him. If only they knew the inside jokes like he does.
They never measured up.
And when I finally liked a guy, he never liked me back.
Which is why you have got to stop drooling over your stepbrother. It’s a recipe for disaster.
I join in on singing, hoping to shove away those dangerous thoughts. Too many times when I was a teenager I cried myself to sleep about the unfairness of it all. The day he lost his virginity to my friend, Raquel, my heart was broken.
You can’t sleep with your stepbrother.
That is what I drilled into my head over and over again, but it still didn’t erase the pain I’d felt knowing my friend got to have him when I couldn’t.
If he ever knew I had these feelings toward him, he’d no doubt be uncomfortable. I’m not sure we could ever go back to our easy relationship if I ever revealed that. I’ve lost him once and I can’t risk it again which is why I have to stop looking at him like I might have a romantic chance with him.
“This place is new,” Eric says as he pulls into a parking spot in front of the Smoke & Sugar restaurant.
“No, it’s not. You just haven’t been here in a hot minute.
” Rather than saying any more on the subject, I climb out and shudder against the icy wind.
I walk around to his side of the car and point down Main Street.
“All the places that decorate are that direction. Smoke & Sugar is basically the end of the line. We can hit all the ones on the other side of the road and then come back up on this side.”
We make our way across the slippery street. Eric’s palm rests on my lower back as he guides me to the other side. It’s warm where he touches me, reminding me of earlier when his bare hands were on me.
That was nice. Really nice.
And really messed up for me to enjoy it so much.
I’m grateful he made me change, though, because comfort is winning out over cute now that the weather is getting worse. It’s cold and the snow keeps heavily falling.
Main Street this time of year comes alive with wonderful Christmas vibes.
The outside of the shops and businesses are all similar in the way that they have faux-snow painted windows, white blinking lights, and green tree wreathes on their doors.
But, inside each business, they’re allowed to decorate in ways that represent their personalities and whatever they sell or offer.
I’m most excited to visit the bookstore, Smoke & Sugar, and the soap shop Mom loves so much. They’re always the most creative and my favorites by far.
The first business we go to is an insurance place. As soon as a guy behind a desk greets us, I recognize him.
“Kevin?”
Tyler and Kevin are also known as the beer bros at Moonlit Gables townhomes where we live. I’m so used to seeing them wasted or hungover that it’s strange to see Kevin wearing a dress shirt and tie. He cleans up well.
“Hey, neighbor,” Kevin says with a wide grin. “Need insurance?”
I snort out a laugh. “Nah, I’m good. Came to check out your decorations and see if you had any door prizes we could enter to win. Also, I didn’t know you sold insurance.”
“My stepdad, Monty, is Chamber of Commerce prez this year. They have him all over the place for this Christmas Extravaganza. Since he funds me and Ty’s life without too much bitching, I figured I’d do him a solid and hold down the fort.” His gaze darts over to Eric. “Who’s your new man?”
Eric strides over to him and offers a firm handshake. “I’m Eric. Pleased to meet you.”
I’m a little startled he didn’t introduce himself as my stepbrother, letting Kevin assume he’s my man. A flutter of excitement pulses in my lower belly. It’s a forbidden heat I have no business feeling, and yet I savor it anyway.
“Right on, dude,” Kevin says and gestures to a round table with a plate of cookies and some slips of paper. “Monty’s giving away a huge insurance discount. You don’t have to be an existing customer to enter.”
We both complete the form and then help ourselves to a cookie while we admire Monty’s decorations.
He’s gone with a sleek green and silver theme.
Lots and lots of slim, undecorated trees and realistic-looking icicles.
It’s masculine and clean. Not exactly my favorite decorating style, but it’s still lovely.
“Stop by our place. We’ve been doing our annual Twelve Days of Beermas.
Got some cool shit we made.” Kevin holds up his fist for me to bump.
Then, he shakes Eric’s hand again. “Hope to see you around, man. Clara’s fucking awesome.
She deserves someone good who takes her on a date to the insurance company. ”
We laugh and then make our way outside. It feels colder than before. I’m grateful when Eric pulls me to his side. He’s warm and I fit perfectly there.
“Twelve Days of Beermas?” Eric asks with a chuckle. “Sounds interesting.”
“More like obnoxious,” I say with a shake of my head. “They have a huge advent-style wood contraption with doors they reveal their beloved beer from. It’s kind of insane.”
We make our way through several more businesses and shops, marveling over their creative ways to make themselves stand out.
As the day progresses, more and more people show up on Main Street, and it gets crowded.
Soon, to stay together, I have to cling to Eric’s arm while he makes his way through throngs of people.
I continue to cling to him, even when we go inside a fairly empty gift shop that smells like apple cider.
“I need to get Mom something,” I tell him, pointing to cute dishes arranged on a festively decorated table. “You think she’d like a new cake stand? This one is adorable.”
An elderly woman hobbles over to us, her cane clutched in her arthritic-gnarled hand. “Looking for something in particular?”
“I like the cake stand. Beautiful, scalloped edges.”
“A local hand makes this whole line,” the woman reveals. She taps a crooked, bony finger at my hand. “When he makes an honest woman out of you, you can register for anything in the store.”
It takes a minute for me to realize she means a wedding registry.
“Oh,” I start, meaning to correct her, but get cut off as she continues.
“I had the cutest gay couple register most recently. Quite an age gap, those two, but they were most definitely in love. The youngster, Mr. Valentine, registered for this very item.”
“I had no idea they’d already registered.”
“Oh? You know them?”
“They live in my complex,” I say with a laugh. “If no one else has gotten it for them, I’d like to purchase it. Can we pick it up after we’ve made our rounds?”
I end up purchasing an extra for Mom and then we’re on our way again.
“Is everyone your neighbor?” Eric teases.
“Small town.”
“Are those food trucks?”
About the time he asks the question, we get a whiff of something savory and delicious. Eric grabs my hand, tugging me quickly toward the row of them. My heart pounds at the realization we’re now holding hands. His innocent touches have turned not-so-innocent in my brain.
Why can’t I turn off these strange feelings whenever I’m around him?
One of the food trucks boasts of having the best chili in town, so we get in line for that one.
After we get our Frito chili pies and drinks, we find a small picnic table with an umbrella.
Since it’s snowing practically sideways, it doesn’t help shelter us.
I’m grateful when Eric sits to my right, blocking the wind and snow.
I snuggle up close to him, getting lost in the fantasy that he’s my date.
“Okay, this is good,” I say after a mouthful. “I’m so glad we came here today. Casey’s really missing out.”
But, in a way, it’s good she couldn’t go. Not that I didn’t want to see my best friend, but she’d no doubt have wanted to bring the baby, and it’s too cold out here for that. It’s better I’m getting to spend time with my stepbrother.
We polish off our food in no time, eager to get back inside one of the businesses for warmth. It just so happens to be the Chamber of Commerce office. A portly man with rosy cheeks and a boisterous laugh greets everyone who steps inside.
“Monty Brunson,” he says in greeting, jutting out his meaty hand. “Thanks for stopping by.”
The man is jovial and friendly. It’s no shock that his kids are the beer bros. I suppose everyone in their family is popular with people. We meander through the Chamber offices until we come to a room that’s decorated like a gingerbread village. Smells like it too.
“We’re looking for volunteers,” a pretty blond woman with a bright smile says. “Either of you like to bake?”
Eric straightens up and his eyes brighten. “Perhaps.”
“I’m Stephanie Blakely.” She gestures to a stack of forms and pile of pens.
“We’re doing a gingerbread contest this year.
There’ll be lots of categories like creativity, taste, difficulty.
Many ways to win prizes. The grand prize is an advertising package with our company.
It’s transferable to cash if you aren’t in need for advertising. ”
I snatch up a form and step aside so she can greet another person. Grinning, I look up at Eric. “We should so do this.”
“Gingerbread? It’s not easy.”
“Since when do we ever do anything that’s easy?” I toss back with an arched eyebrow. “We made stained glass cookies for Mom’s church when we were like twelve and fourteen. I think we’ve got this.”
He takes the paper from me, scanning through the rules to enter. After he’s read through it, his green eyes cut over to me, pinning me with an intensity I’ve not only been missing, but aching for.
“We have until tomorrow morning to turn in our submission. Think we can figure something out by then?”
“We always figure something out.” I snatch the form and begin filling it out for us. “Looks like we’re headed to the store after this.”
Once we submit our application, we continue on down Main Street, heading back toward Smoke & Sugar where we parked. Right as we pass the door, a man nearly knocks us over as he hurries out the door.
“Oh, fuck, sorry,” the man groans. “I didn’t see you there.” Travis, the electrician who never liked me the way I liked him, stares at me in shock. “Clara. Long time no see.”
He lives across the neighborhood pond, so I literally see him anytime me and Casey go on a walk, but I let it slide.
“I was just about to call you,” I say, forcing myself to sound bright and cheery.
His eyes widen and then he darts his gaze to Eric who remains still and quiet beside me. “I, uh, am with Savvy now. Me, her, and Cole are a throuple. Got a baby on the way.”
My cheeks burn hot with embarrassment.
“Not to fuck you,” Eric growls. “She needs an electrician to fix her snowman.”
Travis nearly chokes with humiliation. “Oh, yeah, damn. That was rude as hell. Sure. I’ll pop by in a couple of days to take a look. Good seeing you again.”
As he hurries away to get in his truck, I turn toward Eric, needing his comfort for some crazy reason. Always in tune with me, he tugs me to him, hugging me tight.
“Ready to go home, sass?”
I squeeze him, inhaling his wonderfully unique scent. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s get out of here.”
This is the first time, I realize, that I’ve seen Travis and not wanted to cry.
Because you’ve transferred your infatuation from him to Eric.
Not exactly making progress here, girl.