Meanwhile, Tilly winked. “Bekka is right. You need to get back on the horse.”
In addition to being humiliated two years before, everyone also knew about my less than stellar past with men. As in an ex-fiancé I’d rather never think about again. At least I’d used the wedding dress I’d raced from the church in for target practice. “How about this, ladies. There are no good-looking men in this town.”
“Hey,” Bart said from the next booth. “I’m a real catch.” The resident tour guide, ghost storyteller, and sometimes bear killer was practically crawling into our booth.
“You’re married. Or did Misty finally kick your ass to the curb?” I glared at him, although I adored the man. He was also the best handyman in town.
He acted wounded and I waved him off.
Tilly winked. “You’ll find the right guy. Of course you might need to use a crowbar to open your hoochie-coochie again.”
“I’m going to enjoy dying an early death. But Iwilltake certain people with me. The act done violently.” I gritted out the words and turned my head toward the oversized glass window. With the afternoon sun peeking through the trees and the entireground painted in pristine white after the late-night snow, the setting was picture perfect. Like a small town straight out of a Hallmark movie.
Funny how I never watched the channel or the flicks. Too ooey-gooey for my tastes. Plus, there was no such thing as a happily ever after. I was fine with that. I had a fulfilling life, a business that I adored, amazing friends, and I wouldn’t change where I lived for anything.
Even if my neighbors were all nosy busybodies.
Bekka was enjoying herself, still laughing.
“I know what you mean. There are some slim pickings in this town,” she agreed. “And I mean single guys, Bart.”
He grunted in response.
I rested my head on my hand, my elbow on the table, watching people coming and going, heading to the various small shops and enjoying the small-town atmosphere.
“Think of it this way. It’s tourist season. Maybe you’ll meet some sexy guy and have a month-long fling.”
With a slow turn of my head, I offered a scathing look. “Just what I need.”
“No complications. Just like you prefer.”
She was right about that. At least I could enjoy some eye candy, which was a regular sport for the single women in town during the height of tourist season. Given the town’s location at the base of Mt. Mansfield, we had our share of rugged mountain climbers and other outdoor sports enthusiasts.
“Maybe. But you’re right. Enjoying the… ahem, scenery will be nice after a dry summer,” I teased in return. A lone man walking toward the courtyard caught my attention. Not that seeing a single person on the sidewalk was an abnormality, but whoever the guy was, he acted as if it wasn’t positively frigid outside.
Wearing a suit and tie without an overcoat, it was obvious the man was a stranger. Of course Stowe had its share of businessmen and women, but given the frigid temperatures, the smart ones wore bulky parkas. His lack of clothing meant he was a tourist.
Standing just outside the courtyard where a dozen quaint local shops surrounded a small ice-skating rink and tons of other vendors, he ripped a piece of paper from his pocket. I could tell he had no idea where he was going, his brow furrowed. What I couldn’t see very well was his face.
But he was tall, broad, and buff. Whew.
The man was deadly handsome in a way that I sensed was raw and powerful. Even from where I sat, I noticed everyone who passed him took notice. He oozed enough power that everyone acted as if they wanted to get close to him, yet were too frightened that doing so would find them embroiled in danger. Everything about him was dark.
Dark hair.
Dark clothes.
And I could swear a dark aura, as if danger was following him. Wow. I hadn’t experienced something so powerful from simply seeing a stranger from afar in a long time.
He had the look of a vampire or predator on the prowl. But I also sensed refinement in him from his aristocratic nose and high cheekbones. Women would call the intensity of his look passionate, but I could easily gather a sense of disregard to everything and everyone around him, an arrogance defined by wealth and influence. Maybe I was reading too much into the way he was fuming, but I’d always had a good sense of people. Well, for the most part. A single mistake had almost tethered me to a life I would never have survived.
As he scanned the area, Bekka leaned forward.
“Oh, now he shows promise. Your mysterious stranger perhaps. Fortune cookies are always right.”
“Do not go there. He’s an arrogant prick,” I said, just for kicks.
“You’ve met him?”
