Chapter 7 Taylor
TAYLOR
The sun is just blushing pink over Angel Mountain as I get back to the bookshop and throw my shopping bags down before heading right back out.
Roan and Meg are planning to help out with the shop tonight, but I needed a little break this afternoon and decided to check out the hardware store down the street.
Not only did it have basically everything under the sun for improving a house or shop, but it also had spools of thick, decorative ribbon, and a bin full of Christmas lights that were on discount.
“Overstocked,” the bored kid at the checkout counter said when I asked why it was on sale.
I don’t know why they overstocked, but I’m grateful. I bought enough to light the tree lot up like it’s Times Square, plus a couple of massive outdoor extension cords. I even got a dozen metal hooks because I have an idea.
But I’m going to need help with it.
As I head down the block to the jewelry shop just on the other side of the tree lot, I think about how the owner there probably wishes the lot next door looked nicer too. And I tell myself that they’ll be glad I stopped by.
But I don’t really believe it. In Manhattan, the response to my request would definitely be a resounding no, or a request for a shocking amount of cash and a pair of lawyers to argue over a complicated contract.
I take a deep breath of crystalline mountain air before heading up to the front door.
The shop has a sign that says Bells and Baubles and the Christmas display in the front window is absolutely gorgeous. There’s a bed of fluffy cotton snow holding sleeping forest animals and tiny glittery fairies hanging from almost-invisible threads.
The bell over the door jingles merrily as I enter, and I’m relieved to see that there’s no one in the shop but the lady behind the counter.
“Hello there,” she says with a gentle smile. “How can I help you?”
She’s middle-aged, with long hair and a flowy skirt. For some reason, I feel instantly comfortable with her.
“I’m not here to buy anything today,” I tell her regretfully as I try not to let myself drool over the cases of shimmering gems. “I just had a question. I’m leasing the bookshop on the other side of the tree lot, and I had an idea. I was hoping to speak with the owner?”
“Well, congratulations on your new place,” the lady says warmly. “And I’m the owner. My name is Marion.”
“Nice to meet you, Marion,” I reply. “I’m Taylor.”
“Great name,” she says with a smile.
“Thanks,” I say.
“So, what’s your idea?” she asks.
“The tree lot is nice,” I say. “But I was thinking it would look so much nicer if there were some Christmas lights over it.”
“It sure would,” Marion says with sympathy. “But I wouldn’t say a word to Roan Connelly about it. I guess since you’re his tenant, you know what you’re dealing with there.”
“I kind of already talked to him,” I admit. “He said I could help with some decorations.”
“Get out of town,” she says, looking me up and down and nodding with clear admiration in her eyes. “Well done, you.”
“I got some lights and some hooks,” I say, feeling awkward. “If you wanted, I was thinking the two of us could install the hooks on our second-floor window frames. Then we could string the lights across the whole lot.”
“Isn’t that clever?” she says. “Sure, let’s do it.”
“Really?” I ask her.
“Of course,” she says. “I’m so glad he agreed to let you lend a hand. He’s a good man. He deserves to let his hair down a little, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” I say, feeling relieved that even though she knows he’s a grump, Marion still thinks Roan is a good man.
Of course I think so too. But I worry that I’m biased because I love his daughter, and because he’s so handsome that he makes me blush.
Sometimes I wonder about my judgement in general.
All the time, really.
“You okay?” Marion asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Sorry, got lost in my own head for a minute.”
“Happens to the best of us,” she says. “Come on upstairs, and let’s find the best place to put these hooks.”
An hour later, we’ve installed hooks in both buildings and hung the lights from them. And Marion has admired my little apartment and agreed to stop back for coffee one day.
When I walk her out, I see the snow flurries are drifting down again.
“Shall we do the honors?” I ask her, indicating the extension cord I need to plug into the outlet outside my shop to bring the lights to life.
“No, no,” she says. “Do it when Roan is here. I’d love to hear about the look on his face when it all lights up.”
“I’ll memorize it for you,” I promise her. “And I’ll tell you everything afterward.”
“Okay,” she says, nodding slowly at me with a thoughtful smile.
I would ask her what’s up with that look. But I know what she’s thinking. And I guess she’s right. I do have a bit of a crush on my gorgeous landlord. But I definitely don’t want to talk about it.
She heads off to her shop, and I’m about to go into mine when Roan’s truck pulls up.
He hops out, but instead of the little girl I’m expecting, a man I don’t know gets out of the passenger side and heads for the tree lot.
“Hey,” Roan says, nodding to me. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”
“I had a little surprise for you,” I tell him. “Where’s Meg?”
“My parents are decorating the tree tonight,” he says. “She really wanted to help.”
That makes me smile and miss my own grandparents a little. We didn’t decorate the tree together, but my parents and I would fly down to Florida every other Christmas and bake all our favorite desserts, swim in the pool, and gossip with their friends in the retirement community.
Once I started working, I was too busy to get away for a week or two at a time like that. But maybe I’ll call Grammy tomorrow and see how she’s doing.
“That sounds really nice,” I tell him.
“My brother is going to watch the lot so I can help you,” he says, indicating the other giant man with dirty blond hair who is already in the lot and talking to a potential customer. “So, what’s this about a surprise?”
“Okay,” I say. “I hope you don’t mind, and I can definitely take them down if you don’t like them...”
I scurry over and plug in the cord before I babble enough to talk myself out of it.
When I look up, the first thing I see is Roan’s handsome face. And right then I know every moment I took not working on my shop today was worth it.
His sharp jaw is slightly softened with wonder as the lights reflect in his bright blue eyes.
“Wow, Taylor,” he breathes.
I go to his side without thinking and turn back to look at my handiwork.
I bought about a million lights, and Marion and I joined them into one giant strand that winds back and forth between the hooks on her second-floor window frames and mine, forming a sort of sparkly ceiling over the tree lot.
You can just see the flurries dancing in front of the lights, and the trees are illuminated from above, making them look even softer and greener than before.
“You like it?” I ask softly.
“I love it,” he says, his voice deeper than usual. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“It was fun,” I tell him truthfully. “I got all the stuff at the hardware store, and then Marion helped me set it up.”
“She did, huh?” he asks, looking over at me.
“What?” I ask. “She’s super nice.”
“She’s lovely,” he tells me. “But I know she’s busy over there at this time of year.”
“Well, there weren’t any customers when I stopped by,” I tell him. “I guess I got lucky.”
“She doesn’t just sell jewelry,” he tells me. “She makes a lot of it. Normally, when the shop is quiet she’s working on projects behind that counter. It’s a big deal that she stopped to help you with this.”
“She said you’re a good man,” I say automatically. “I think she liked the idea of doing something nice for you.”
“A good man,” he echoes, looking surprised.
“What?” I tease him. “You think acting like a grump sometimes means people can’t see the real you?”
“A lot of people think the grump is the real me,” he says, chuckling with a dark look in his eyes.
“Is it?” I ask him.
His blue eyes meet mine.
“I hope not,” he says after a moment.
I hope not too. Honestly, the whole grump act makes me think of a growling dog making himself look fierce, but really only trying to protect himself.
But what is Roan protecting himself from? As far as I can tell, he’s got a fairytale life out here with his Christmas trees, and his perfect daughter, and his parents nearby…
“Hungry?” he asks me.
“Always,” I tell him truthfully.
“Let’s go,” he says, heading down the street without another word.
I jog after him and he slows down so I can catch up.
“Where are we headed?” I ask.
“Pizza shop okay?” he asks me.
“That would be perfect,” I tell him, my mouth already watering at the thought.
“I thought you New Yorkers were snobby about your pizza,” he says warily.
“Urban legend,” I say dismissively.
That makes him chuckle again, and I’m struck once more by the idea that his grumpy ways are just a disguise.
I like him like this, relaxed and smiling. I wonder if this is how he is at home, and I’m struck by a feeling I can’t quite place that makes me just a little sad that I’m not involved in that part of his life.
“Here we are,” he says when we reach the pizza place.
It’s hung with lights and garlands, and it has a sign that says Slice of Heaven. I have to smile at that.
“What?” he asks.
“So many shops here have angel-themed names,” I point out.
“We’ve got town pride,” he retorts. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Except that I guess I’ve got to think up a bookshop name with an angel reference.”
“You’ll come up with something good,” he says, pushing open the door to the pizza shop and gesturing for me to go in. “I have faith in you.”
I step inside and instantly my senses are reeling with delight. It’s deliciously warm in here from the pizza ovens, and the scent practically has my eyes rolling back in my head—a savory embrace of garlic, yeast, and whatever magical spices make pepperoni so decadent when it’s on top of pizza.