She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this nervous-slash-excited to go on a date. Most of her post-hairdressing-school life dating had taken place in Virtue, and the pickings weren’t exactly slim in the small town, but they weren’t really broad, either. Starting up her salon had been enough excuse to let a handful of early-stage relationships fizzle out.
But she’d never felt that sting of excitement when she’d first seen any of those guys, either, or gotten cold-fingered and shaky from a touch. So maybe fussing over a little red bow was…
…still totally ridiculous, but somehow Stacy found it in her hair again on her way out the door. And worse, she feltcute.
Well, that was as bad as it was going to get. She promised herself that. Nothing more festive than a red bow, which didn’t even necessarily meanChristmasy. It was just…decorative.
She bet she could findseveralpeople who would believe that. Probably. Almost certainly. Because it was definitely true. And she had at least two hours to kill before dinner, so she could go to the holiday market and find people who would agree with her.
Because she wasn’t going to see if Keith happened to be there. He’d said he might be, but that wassheer coincidencein terms of her going to a holiday market she had avoided for the entire four years she’d been in Virtue. It was just that there was a booth she was interested in for the first time, that was all. She crunched her way out into the snow, and walked toward town along a tree-lined street which threatened to drop more snow on her from heavily-laden branches.
It was only three-thirty, but the sky was getting twilighty with early winter evenings. That didn’t stop kids from playing outside, their cheerful shrieks making the snowy branches seem that much more unstable. The street was littered with snowmen and snowballs alike, as well as a number of frozen lumps that had once been both and had melted just enough to freeze solid again after a brief thaw the week before. Stacy, not realizing it was frozen, had kicked one of those once, and limped for a week afterward.
She had to admit, as a ten minute walk brought her around a corner to the town square, that the early eveningsdidmake the holiday bazaar look bright and inviting. Colored lights, strung up everywhere, reflected off the snow and made it all cozy and warm, and the whole thing was never less than bustlingly busy. She stopped at the Winter Doughnut Shop for a cup of tea, and headed into the market with her hands wrapped around it.
Five minutes later, she regretted it, but it was too late then. Or at least, she didn’t want to give up on the chance of meeting Keith early, so she persevered, edging through shoppers who seemed to be enjoying the noise and the crowds a lot more than she did. Therewerea lot of cool things in the little storefronts, from hand-thrown pottery to sculptures to—“Terrariums? Aren’t they going to die of cold?”
The woman running the terrarium kiosk gestured her in. Not all the shops could be entered, but hers was set up in a little U shape, with the glass-housed plants nestled in insulating-looking shelves that Stacy ran a finger over, and determined might be styrofoam. “Oh, I see. This must protect them quite a lot. And it’s warm in here!” Sweat beaded on her hairline almost immediately, in fact, and she wiped her fingers across it in surprise.
“I also don’t let anybody pick their purchase up until they’re on their way home from the market,” the woman said with a nod. She was probably twenty years older than Stacy, and had greying pixie cut that suited her round face. “I’m Tara. Tara’s Terrariums at your service.”
“Hah! I’m Stacy, Stacy’s Salon at yours.” Stacy tilted her head toward her salon across the square. Tara followed the tilt with her gaze, then nodded wisely.
“Business must be hopping at this time of year. I live a few towns over, but I’ve been trying to get a booth at the Virtue market for years. If you have any questions besides ‘won’t they die?’ I’m happy to answer them!”
“Do they really not need much maintenance? I like plants, but I’m a neglectful plant parent.”
Tara laughed. “Most of them are pretty good for benign neglect. You’d want to start with a simple one, maybe. I like the cacti for that.” She gestured, and Stacy went over to look at a scattering of cacti in glass bowls.
“This one’s flowering!” Bright pink-red tubular flowers grew at the tips of flat leaves that grew long and fell like a waterfall inside the terrarium. “I had no idea cactuses flowered in winter!”
“Christmas cactus. Almost impossible to kill. Ask me how I know.”
“Really? Maybe I’ll come back for one…well, not tonight. I’m going out to dinner tonight. But you’re here until the end of the market, right?”
“Until the last minute,” Tara said with a smile. “I’ll keep one aside for you.”
“Oh, let me at least put it on layaway.” Stacy put her tea down so she could dig through her purse, and found a ten to give the plant lady. “Will that do?”
“Perfect. Which one do you like?”
“The one already flowering,” Stacy said firmly. “I’m sure it’ll never bother to for me otherwise.”
“They’re pretty forgiving,” Tara promised her, but didn’t argue, either.
“I’ll come pick it up after work tomorrow.” Stacy collected her tea cup and left the terrarium shop feeling chipper. Then she realized she’d bought something at the very first kiosk she’d gone into, and laughed. Never mind being a grinch. The market was obviously dangerous to her pocket book. That was reason enough to stay away, generally.
“Rats,” a familiar male voice said. “I was going to offer to buy you a hot cider if I found you, but I see you’ve got a drink already.” Keith took a couple of running strides so he could fall into step beside her. Stacy glanced up at him with a smile, and felt her heart flip-flop.
She’d almost convinced herself he hadn’t been as jaw-droppingly gorgeous as she remembered him. Mostly because it didn’t seem possible for someone to be that tall, that chiseled, that dark-eyed, and also interested in her. Not that she thought of herself as shabby: most of the time, she thought she was pretty cute, and the rest of the time she probably had period cramps and a bucket of ice cream to drown them in.
But Keith wassohandsome. He had that golden undertone to his skin that a lot of redheads did, and his cheeks were flushed red with cold. He wasn’t wearing a hat, maybe to show off his new haircut, which he’d styled well and looked great with. She said, “Hey. Hi,” like kind of a dork, then looked at her cup of tea and laughed. “Oh. I’m just carrying this to keep my hands warm. Cider sounds delicious, honestly.”
“Oh, well, in that case!” Keith made a wide inviting gesture and nearly hit another passer-by. He apologized with obvious distress, and the guy muttered an acceptance that wasn’t entirely sincere. “Remind me to keep my hands to myself.”
Stacy said, “Maybe with other people,” right out loud, and if she hadn’t been holding a full cup of hot tea, would have slapped both hands over her mouth.
Keith blinked once, slowly, then grinned even more slowly. To her relief, though, he proved himself to be a gentleman, and only said, “So, cider, then? What’s in the cup that you’re holding just for warmth?”
