“It’s the scent of abundance,” I chuckle, failing to hide my amusement and knowing full well it smells like a cross between the sweetest cupcake in the world and a sweaty bodybuilder straight from the gym. He gives me a skeptical look that I catch out of the corner of my eye before screwing the top back on.
“The abundance of what? Dirty socks soaked in buttercream?”
A genuine smile pulls at my lips at how accurate that descriptor is, my shoulders shaking with laughter as I grab one labeledSunrise. I unscrew the top and hold it out to him.
“Here,” I offer, swallowing my giggles, “try this one.”
His eyes flit between me and the candle, debating whether or not to trust me after I let him sniffAbundance. I shake the jar at him, and reluctantly, he leans in and gives it a hesitant whiff. Instantly, his face lights up, and he takes another deeper sniff, drinking in the scent of oranges, ginger, and cinnamon.
“Oh, that’s much better. I can’t say I’ve ever sniffed the sunrise, but I’ll take that overAbundanceany day.” He rubs his nose as if trying to rid it of the memory.
I laugh again, feeling lighter than I have in months. I take a deep, easy breath just as the booth owner notices us standing by the table.
“Hey, Amelia! Find anything you like?” Thomas asks, rubbing his hands together and beaming at me, his rosy pink cheeks reflecting the low lights of the market.
“Oh, I’m only browsing tonight. Though I think Oliver here could use something to help with his grand opening.”
“Grand opening? You must be the young man who bought Laura’s bakery.” Thomas reaches out across the table to shake Oliver’s hand, smiling from ear to ear. “I’m Thomas, nice to meet you. Ya know, I saw you checking outAbundance. That’s a great one to have as a new business owner.”
Oliver does his best to hide his grimace, and I have to cough into my sleeve to hide my snort.
“Actually . . .” He scans the table and plucks the closest jar ofSunrisehe can find. “I think I’m more of a morning person. I’ll take this one.”
“Another excellent choice!” Thomas booms, gleaming with pride at making a sale. As the town’s resident carpenter, Thomas’s candle making is nothing more than a passion hobby that he pulls out a few times a year. Everyone in town knows that each new scent will either be amazing or the most vile thing one has ever smelled—with no in between. But watching him puff up with a childlike glee every time he sells one makes it worth it every time.
Thomas leaves to wrap up the candle, and I burst out laughing, covering my mouth with a hand.
“Thanks for the help,” Oliver teases, elbowing my shoulder. I’m laughing so hard that I trip over my own feet and throw my head back.
“You didn’t actually have to buy anything,” I say between chuckles.
“Tell that to Thomas,” he whispers between clenched teeth, jerking his head in the direction of the candlemaker, but he can’t hide the grin pulling at his lips.
Once we’ve secured Oliver’s purchase, I pull him away and introduce him to every business owner in town with a booth. He buys something every few stalls, and by the time we’re halfway through, he has a bag on his arm bulging with a crocheted hat, oven mitts covered in moons and stars, a salsa mix, and various other goodies.
“You don’t have to buy something from everyone to make them like you.”
Oliver shrugs, holding out the bag and letting it dangle from his fingertips. “These are all vital purchases, thank you very much.”
I give him an incredulous smirk and pull out the crocheted hat. It’s striped with a rainbow of colors and has a fluffy white puff on top. I hold it up, spinning it with a finger.
“Thiswas a vital purchase?”
“Yes,” he declares, using his free hand to pull it onto his head, flattening those golden-brown curls until they fall into his icy eyes. He turns his chin this way and that, showing off his new look. “I needed a new hat for my winter travels.”
Despite that odd buzzing energy that seems ever-present between us, I’m . . . comfortable. This back and forth with Oliver is easy, and I realize I hadn’t even braced myself for our night together. At this point in the night, I’m usually drained from the effort of having to keep up the conversation, but instead, I’m pleasantly relaxed. At ease even. It’s been so long since I’ve effortlessly fallen into conversation with someone other than Lucy, and even then, sometimes I need my space.
I tip my head to the side, my dark ponytail swishing against my jacket. Suddenly, I realize this could be the opportunity I’ve been looking for to learn more about his life before Ashwood Haven.
“Do you travel often?”
“All year long. Or, at least, I used to.”
Side by side, we continue our stroll through the market, taking a break from the booths and heading straight for the hot chocolate stand. “Used to? Not anymore?”
“Well, I imagine I won’t have much time or money for travel now that I have the bakery.”
“That’s fair. Where all have you been?”
