I get it. The guy is hot. Like, really, really hot. Everyone sees that.Isee that.It’s hard not to see he’s huge. That said, he’s also a complete mess.
Cute, little, blonde Brelynn doesn’t seem to mind. “Hey, Cole.” Her voice is two octaves higher than it usually is. “I brought you some food. Are you, ugh, you going to the Christmas Eve rodeo?”
I’m pretty sure I’m having secondhand embarrassment. She’s barely out of high school. Cole is probably closer to his forties.
He takes the food and offers her one of the signature grins he’s so kindly heating up the bookstore with. “Thank you, ma’am. Not sure if I’m goin’ to the rodeo or not this year. Life has been pretty hectic.”
“Well,” she hooks her hands in front of her and smiles sweetly, “I’ve got an extra ticket if you’re interested. Front row seats. My dad gets them every year.”
I resist the urge to groan while simultaneously vomiting. I’m not jealous. I’m just protective of my oxygen supply, and this woman is currently sucking it out of the room with all her desperation.
“Appreciate it,” Cole says, taking a sip of cocoa.
She lingers a beat too long before finally returning to the reading circle, where the group resumes their chattering about how attractive the handyman is.
“She’s subtle,” I say dryly.
He smirks. “You jealous?”
“Of Brelynn?Please.” I roll my eyes, but my pulse betrays me. “Fix the heater, Cole.”
“With pleasure, your majesty.” He shifts toward the steaming pile of junk, and I try not to notice the muscles flexing in his back as he crouches down.
I need to get my head on straight. I’m not even going to be here much longer. My focus should be on this book club, on the marketing plan for the rest of December, and my exit plan for moving back to New York, not Cole and his massively impressive body and everything he could do to me.
No matter how great that would be, small-town life isn’t for me. I’ve known that for months now.
Sure, I love this little bookstore and the people that work here, and I’ll do whatever I can to save this place, but my life is in the city.
“Tess,” Brelynn calls, interrupting my thoughts with her piercing voice.
What more could she possibly have to say?
I force a smile and turn toward her. “Yeah? What’s up?”
“A few of us just got alerts on our phones that a massive snowstorm is headed into Rugged Mountain. They’re calling for two inches an hour. I think we’re going to cut out early and head back up the mountain before it gets too bad.”
I glance back at the group already packing up their things, then outside at the snow falling more heavily now.
Shit! This is our first meeting. We didn’t even get to discuss plot points or imagery, or why the heroine found it necessary to run off with the hero, or why Chestnut Lane Bookstore is a community gem that can’t be sold.
“Okay. Yeah. Umm… text me when you get home safe and have a Merry Christmas. We’ll resume book club next week.” I hand everyone their little gift bags with custom Chestnut Lane merch as they head outside and into the blustery scene of white.
This is another thing I won’t miss about the mountains.
Snow.
Sure, we get snow in the city, but it’s just enough to make life feel festive, then it melts and everything is normal again. Here, the snow comes hard and fast, debilitating the entire town for days. People make trips for bread and milk like the end of days are near, and there’s never enough of either to go around, which is weird because it seems like everyone makes their own bread here.
“Say goodbye to Cole for me, dear,” Mrs. Robinson says as she leans in for a hug. “He’s a sweet boy. You should spend some time with him. I think he’s smitten.” She kisses my cheek softly and grips her friend’s arm as they walk into the elements together.
Mrs. Robinson is someone I will miss. She’s the town’s oldest resident, and I’ve gotten quite close to her over the past few months. She’s like the mom and the grandma I never had, though I think she’s way off base thinking Cole is smitten for anything or anyone but himself.
The front door has barely closed when I hear Cole’s voice behind me. “Where do you live?”
I spin toward him, my brows narrowed. “What?”
He’s holding his phone in his giant palm, scrolling down. “They’re closing roads. Where do you live?”
