“Talk later, sis. Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome. And if she ends up being the one, you know you owe me that new easel I’ve wanted, right?”
He smiles. “The very best one. See you at home!” Jace sighs in relief, excitement spilling from his frame as he motions to the counter behind us. “Shall we?”
“I think I just might.” A feeling of joy settles into my bones as I pull off my mittens, and he reaches over to help me out of my coat, hanging it off the back of my chair. He stands.
“What would you like?”
I nearly stutter as I try to answer. “A candy cane hot chocolate, please.”
Jace nods and heads to the counter. I study him while he orders, observing the way he holds his shoulders and the intriguing image of a clock tattooed on his hand as it moves through his hair. He shifts his weight as he waits for the order, glancing back at me once or twice, the first real sign of nervousness I’ve seen from him.
When he’s across from me again, delivering our drinks and a plate of Christmas cocoa cookies—which are as delicious as theysound—I’m struck by how tiny the table looks in light of his big frame.
“You’ve really never been to Birch Borough before?” I question.
Jace lifts his arm to take a sip of coffee, and I follow the movement of his muscles beneath his shirt. This man could be in a museum as the textbook example of the way muscles should be chiseled beneath fabric.
“I haven’t,” he says, taking another sip.
“And what were you doing before you made your way to our town this evening?” My question hovers in the holiday-treat-filled air.
“I was at a boxing studio, training some of my students.”
I attempt, in vain, not to think of him wrapping those manly hands with tape and the way his muscles must work as he punches a heavy bag. But the thought has already taken residence in my mind and installed a mailbox to celebrate.
“But now you’re making me want to buy a ticket to a dance performance, if you’re in it.” An easy smile brightens his features in fascinating ways.
It’s the first moment I’ve ever considered being able to look at a man’s face for the rest of my life and finding something new every time.
“How do you know I’m a dancer?” I ask, delighted he would say such a thing.
“Your feet are turned out.”
I look at my feet under the table, my toes angled in opposite directions as a result of training my body to move as a ballerina, and let out a laugh. And as I look back toward him and see the smile on his face as he takes a huge bite of a dreamy dessert from Four Leaf Cookies, I think coming home might have brought me some holiday luck.
Chapter Two
Ivy
What do you want to be known for?” Jace asks a few cookies later. His eyes are alight with curiosity and a hint of what could only be described as playfulness.
What a question. I grip the diner mug of candy cane hot chocolate and draw it closer, the rings of cocoa on the inside an indication of how long we’ve been here, enjoying each other’s company. I’m down to the dregs, a swirl of cocoa and remnants of whipped cream hanging onto the sides, like I have been to every word Jace has said.
I’ve discovered he’s funny, interesting, and intelligent, asks riveting questions, and is clearly capable of creating with his hands. In addition to being a boxing coach, he’s also a woodworker. He’s told me that his dream is to own an artisan furniture business, and at that bit of information, I tried not to focus on said hands.
Jace looks at me as if he wants to never forget me.
The longer I sit with him, the safer I feel, despite the fact that he towers over me and could move me across the room in his arms better than any of the dancers I left behind in New York City. The thought of dancing with Jace in any way sends heat climbing my neck. I clear my throat to will away the foreign emotion.
I’ve felt attraction before. Of course I have. But a sense of more accompanying the attraction is new. As much as I love dance, I don’t often love being touched. Ironic, considering how many times I get tossed and lifted during any one rehearsal or performance, but it’s true. You have to earn my trust to get my affection, but then I give it with everything I have.
Which is why it’s shocking that I’m still here with Jace. With other men, even Dmitri, I thought of them holding me, and everything got fuzzy, almost like the rest of the vision would have to play out only after they made a move. But with Jace, I’m seeing our future play out like a movie in my mind. I can picture the way his fingers would wrap around my chin to lift it so I could fully look at him. I can see the warmth of his smile when my eyes widen at his touch. I can feel the softness of his curls against my skin if he buried his face in my neck. For the first time, I can feel it all even before I’ve lived it, and it makes me want more from a man than I’ve ever wanted in my life.
When Jace shifts on his side of the table, the movement pulls me out of my thoughts. His eyebrow lifts as he studies me, almost as if he can sense what I was just imagining.
“To be known for?” I barely get the words out, returning to his question. He nods, a grin at play on his face. He’s on his third cup of coffee, while I’m holding on to my mug like it’s a lifeline. The grip of my fingers around the ceramic says maybe if I don’t take the last sip, this evening will never end.
