Chapter 5 #2
The whole place is warmed by the fire crackling up the stairs, and Hudson, Wren and I peel our snow-covered coats off. I untie the laces of my Doc Marten’s, sliding them off, and adjusting my thick wool socks.
“Hey, the gang’s all here!” Spencer shouts as she gets up from the couch and greets us at the top of the stairs.
Her fiery red hair is tied up in a bun, with tendrils poking out here and there.
It contrasts beautifully against the emerald sweater she’s wearing.
“Can I get you both a drink? We have mulled wine. Rum and eggnog. Beer. Whatever you want. I also have non-alcoholic options.”
She disappears into the kitchen next to the living room and I follow.
I normally steer clear of alcohol, it’s highly inflammatory, and can sometimes cause a wicked arthritis flare. But I’ll deal with the aftermath if I have to. With all the stress surrounding the fate of the café, and my recent foray into the dating scene, I want something to help me unwind.
“A mulled wine would be great, thanks,” I answer.
Grady is busy cooking what looks like a feast for a whole army, so Spencer ladles out a mug of the warm, spiced wine.
She leans in and gives me a peck on the cheek as she hands me the mug.
“Merry Christmas, Pops.”
The emotion in her voice tells me this holiday is special to her now, and I understand why. It’s only her third Christmas since she decided to give up her travel blogger lifestyle and settle in Heartwood, that she’s spent with loved ones around her.
“Merry Christmas, Spence.”
I take the mulled wine and head back to the living room, taking a seat on the floor in front of the crackling fire.
My friends are already engaged in lively discussion. Ally is sitting with Hazel on the floor next to Ruby, fisting clumps of fur with her tiny hands and giggling maniacally. She’s almost three now.
I glance over at Mason, who is admiring his daughter with more love in his eyes than I’ve ever seen in them. His girls have brought that jaded grump back to life, and it makes my heart warm to see it.
The only person missing from the group is Jett.
I’m about to ask where he is, when he emerges at the top of the stairs. His shaggy dark hair is slightly mussed, and there’s a faint shadow along his square jaw. He’s more dishevelled than normal, and the bright, mischievous sparkle in his storm-dark eyes is gone.
I wonder about the scandal Wren mentioned, and if it’s weighing on him more than she let on.
His eyes lock with mine from across the room, and in a blink, that sparkle is back like he’s turned on a light switch. The weight of his gaze on me makes my skin heat.
I’m suddenly self-conscious about what I chose to wear tonight; comfy leggings and the tacky vintage sweater. I pull my knees up and fidget with the cuffs of my chunky wool socks.
A moment later, he looks away from me, and his mouth turns up into a cheeky grin.
“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, ya filthy animals.”
After dinner, we all retreat to the living room and resume our places around the fire. The mood has shifted, and now everyone is full, satiated, and sleepy.
My gaze keeps drifting over to where Jett is on the couch across from me. His eyelids look heavy, and the soft cream-coloured cable-knit sweater he has on makes me want to go curl up next to him.
I’ve had too much mulled wine, and I’m drunk on the atmosphere. I’m being hypnotized by the dulcet tones of holiday music coming from the radio.
My thoughts are interrupted by Ally sitting upright from her place on the couch and making an announcement.
“I think it’s time to open presents,” she says, and everyone rallies, sitting up a little straighter. “Who wants to start, and reveal their secret Santa?”
“I can.” Hudson reaches for his gift under the tree. “I had Grady.”
He pulls out a box wrapped in shiny red paper, handing it to Grady. As Grady opens the box, he pulls out some crystal highball glasses, whisky rocks, and a smoking kit with different flavours.
“So you can make a proper old fashion at home, not just at the bar,” Hudson explains.
“Thanks, Hud.” Grady smiles, appreciating the thought behind the gift. “I guess I’ll go next. I got Wren.”
She opens a brand-new leather-bound sketchbook and charcoal pencils.
“This is amazing, Grady.” She beams. “I needed a new one. I’ve filled all mine up.”
“Okay, okay. I want to go next,” I say, grabbing the snowflake covered bag and handing it to Ally. “This is for you.”
She opens the silver envelope first and finds a piece of paper in the card explaining her gift. She squeals with delight as she reads it and rips the paper out of the bag, pulling out a tartan scrunchie.
“A scrunchie subscription?”
I grin at her as I watch her pull her usual lilac scrunchie from her ponytail and put her hair back up with the new one.
“You’ll get a new scrunchie every month. They’re usually seasonal patterns,” I explain. She launches towards me and wraps me in a tight hug.
When Ally releases me, she reaches for the gift with my name on it. “Here, open yours.”
It’s not addressed from anyone, so I don’t know yet who had me for their Secret Santa. When I remove the sparkly bow and thick gold paper, I find a simple wooden frame, with a photo that looks like it’s been cut out of a newspaper.
The grainy picture looks familiar. I recognize the building as the front of Thistle + Thorne, with its white wooden siding, two bay windows flanking the front door, and scalloped trim adorning the overhang.
But the person standing in front of it is what makes my breath catch in my throat.
Because there’s Aunt Dahlia, standing proudly, wearing a long, flowing paisley print dress and leather clogs. My heart clenches when I think about her, her legacy in Heartwood, how badly I want to keep it alive.
The frame also contains the associated article, a short snippet about the café, and about how my aunt bought the building despite rumours that the building was haunted.
There’s a quote from her about a ghost sighting she had the day she got the keys.
It makes me love her and Thistle + Thorne even more.
Tears collect on my lashes as I read it, the words becoming blurry.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper.
“That’s so nice, Poppy,” Spencer adds. “Who did this?”
Jett clears his throat. “I did.”
“Jett?” Wren nearly shouts, the word coming out with a laugh and a hiccup.
Someone cut her off from the mulled wine.
“What?” He asks the room, but his eyes are fixed on me. “I can’t get my friend a nice gift?”
My stomach does a strange flip-flop.
The room goes quiet, and I tuck my short dark bob behind one ear as everyone stares at me. “Thank you.”
“Okay, who’s next?” Ally asks, but no one volunteers to offer their gift right away.
I lean over and grab the first one I see from under the tree. It’s addressed to Jett. I kneel and stretch to hand it to him, and his fingers brush mine as he takes the box.
He quickly rips off the paper, but his excitement vanishes when he looks at what his gift is.
“Real fucking funny,” he deadpans, no trace of a joke in his voice.
“Guys, who did that?” Spencer asks. “It’s not nice.”
It takes a second for everyone to see what Jett’s holding, but he sets it on the floor next to where he’s sitting. It’s a bulk box of five hundred condoms.
Ally lets out a nervous giggle, Wren glances between everyone. No one fesses up to who bought it. I’m betting it was Mason. Comedic timing isn’t exactly his thing.
“Sorry, man.” Mason chuckles, confirming my theory. “Too soon?”
Jett flashes him a squinty sneer as if to say you think?
“On the upside, if you have trouble going through all those, you could give some to Poppy. She’ll probably need them for all the hot guys she’s matching with on Crush,” Wren blurts.
What. The. Hell.
“Pops, I didn’t know you were on the apps!” Spencer exclaims, and now everyone is looking at me, including Jett with those deep brown eyes.
Once again, our eyes lock and he cocks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting upward into a lopsided grin.
Good god. I bury my face in my hands. I’m sure Wren was desperate to lighten the mood, but did it have to be at my expense? When I look back at everyone, their eyes are still on me, waiting on some kind of update on my love life.
“I need more alcohol.” It’s the only explanation I can offer, as I get up from my seat on the floor and retreat into the kitchen. The muffled conversation returns to an unrelated topic, thankfully, and Ally continues handing out gifts.
I gulp down some mulled wine before I refill my mug again.
Soft footsteps pad into the kitchen behind me, and I turn to see Jett, leaning on the counter.
He holds out his mug with one hand and brushes his hair back from his forehead with the other. “Can I get a refill of that too?”
Jett is attractive, there’s no denying it. Of course he is. There’s a reason women are always falling all over him. Other than tonight, I don’t think he’s paid any attention to me, though I admit I’ve always thought he was striking. Almost… pretty, in a dangerous way.
Now though, with the short beard he has coming in on his square jaw, the unkempt hair, the way he isn’t meeting my gaze in this moment, there’s a certain ruggedness, a humility that I’ve never seen before.
Maybe it’s the mulled wine talking, or maybe turkey is a lesser-known aphrodisiac.
But Jett Landry is hot.