A crease formed between his brows. “Stel,” he breathed out, before rounding my table to stand beside me, close enough that I could smell the briny scent of the sea clinging to his jacket. “If this is about New Year’s Eve…” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Then I think we might be onverydifferent pages.”
I couldn’t believe he was actually going there. Now. In public.
I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Different … pages,” I repeated.
“Yeah.” He leaned in slightly. “Because I don’t?—”
“Stella!” a bright voice cut through the air, stopping him mid-sentence. “What a day!” Jemma Price, Jeremy’s older sister, swept into view, Mistletoe’s mayor, Charlie Emerson, trailing behind her.
I jerked backward, while Cade’s jaw tightened. My eyes dropped briefly to see his hands tighten into fists at his sides.
“Hi, Jemma,” I said brightly. “Charlie.”
“Everything is going so much better than I could have imagined!” Jemma exclaimed, her cheeks pink with excitement. “Folks are really eating this up, and lots of influencers from Boston have posted about how Mistletoe Bay is this hip little enclave, while still holding onto its quaint, small-town charm.”
“That’s great,” I managed, hyper-aware of Cade standing rigidly beside me.
Jemma’s gaze bounced between us, her smile faltering for just a second before snapping back into place. “Hey, Cade. How’s the season shaping up for you?”
“Good,” Cade said, his voice tight. “Busy. You know how it is.”
“That I do,” she said, glancing around the tree farm that had been in her and Jeremy’s family for three generations.
An awkward beat of silence stretched between the four of us until Charlie cleared his throat, his eyes warm behind his glasses. “I’d love a taste of Wicked Bite, if you have any left,” he said. “Your sign mentions orange peel and cardamom?”
“Yeah.” I grabbed a couple of clean glasses, grateful for something to distract me from Cade’s presence. “It’s got a malty base, with notes of holiday spices. It’s good with strong cheesesif you’re doing a charcuterie plate or something, but equally at home in place of wine with your holiday meal.”
“I’ll…let you get back to work,” Cade said under his breath, his chin tucked against his chest as he walked away.
I forced myself not to watch him go, turning instead to wipe down the spotless table.
By the timeI finally locked the door behind me, the deadbolt sliding into place with a satisfying click, every muscle in my body ached. I headed for the interior staircase that led up to my loft, my boots echoing on the wooden steps.
Once upon a time, the whole building had been a warehouse—brick walls, high ceilings, original beams darkened with age. When I bought the place, the upstairs had been a large, dusty storage space. Now it was mine.
Mine to fill with thrifted furniture, a riot of plants, and walls filled to bursting with quirky art.
Mine to lock the world out of.
Thankfully, the loft was warm, mostly from the heat rising through the floorboards from the brewery below. The faint, sweet smell of wort hung in the air, so constant I barely noticed it anymore unless I’d been gone for a while.
At the top of the stairs, I shrugged out of my coat and let it drop to the floor. My boots followed, kicked off without care. I moved to the kitchen, shoving the cheese Harrison had given me into the fridge. Holly’s bouquet sat on the counter where I’d dropped it, still wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. I’d deal with it later.
I needed a hot bath. Needed to wash this day off my skin.
I padded barefoot across the worn wood floor toward the bathroom, peeling off my clothes as I went. The copper soaking tub gleamed under the light from the lamp I flicked on, its curved sides catching the glow. It had been a splurge, one I’d agonized over when I renovated, but moments like this made every penny worth it.
I turned on the taps, steam curling up as hot water thundered into the basin. I added a few drops of eucalyptus oil, the bathroom filling with its sharp, clean scent.
I sank down until the water lapped at my collarbones and let my head tip back against the tub’s rim while the heat leeched the cold from my bones. When my eyes dropped closed, Cade’s face rose uninvited behind my eyelids.
“What did I ever do to you?” he’d asked, looking genuinely confused.
That was the worst part. Like he really didn’t understand why I’d spent the better part of a year avoiding him. Why I’d turned myself into a ghost every time he walked into a room.
Like he didn’t remember.
“I’m not doing this,” I muttered, sitting up and scrubbing a wet hand over my face. “Nope. Brain, you’re on timeout.”
