“Spoiled little deer,” I laughed as I reached the Sweet Shoppe’s front door.
There didn’t seem to be any lights on inside, but the door opened easily when I tugged on it. Stepping inside, I looked around, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Hello!” I said loudly. “Anybody here?”
I couldn’t see much of the interior because the windows were now covered with butcher paper, and the lights on the street weren’t bright enough to help. Still, my eyes widened at what I could make out. From what Icouldsee, the store was definitelynotgoing to be a pizza joint.
I took another step toward the back kitchen and almost screamed when I stumbled over something. Clutching my basket tighter, I looked down and saw the small Scotty dog growling at my feet.
“Oh, hey there, little guy,” I whispered, trying to sound calm. “It’s okay.”
The dog cocked his head and stared at me. Then started another low growl.
So, not friendly like my reindeer buddy, then? I thought.Good to know.
And now that I was here, I wasn’t so sure being neighborly was a great idea after all. Usually, animals loved me. One example of that was currently trotting his way through Jingle Junction, and I certainly wasn’t used to being growled at. Shifting the basket of goodies to my other arm, I tried again to make nice with the cute fur ball. “Where’s your owner? Is he in the back?”
Someone cleared their throat, and this time, Ididscream.
Standing in the doorframe across the room was the imposing outline of the guy I’d seen earlier outside. A light clicked on in the kitchen behind him, so even though his front was mostly a shadow, I could just make out the scowl on his face.
“Hello.” I heard the squeak of my voice and cleared my throat and tried again. “Uh, hi there.”
He crossed his powerful arms over his chest. “Sorry, ma’am, but we aren’t open for business yet,” he said, the faintest hint of a burr in his voice. He gestured toward the door. “You’re going to have to leave.”
“But I—”
“Now.”
5
This was not going the way I’d planned it out in my head while baking and packing the care basket. Not at all. He was supposed to smile warmly and offer his hand, come stand next to me, looking down into my eyes. I cleared my throat and tried again. “My name is—”
“I can’t have anyone in here,” he said, gruff and without a hint of welcome in his tone. “With everything going on, it’s not safe.”
He pushed off the doorjamb where his shoulder had rested and strode toward me. Instead of the ridiculous romantic interaction I’d built in my head, this felt rather imposing. Instinctively, I took a step backward, then squeaked when the dog brushed up against my leg, growling low in his throat.
What was going on? Why didn’t the dog like me? All animals liked me. And why wasn’t Mr. Gorgeous acting the way I’d planned? This was a disaster, and now I just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide forever.
My gaze widened when I realized the huge stranger was still striding toward me, a look of consternation on his face. I didn’t know this man from Adam, did I? He could be a serial killer forall I knew! What had I been thinking? Backpedaling quickly, I tried to extricate myself from the situation while tumbling over my own feet and wobbling in place, doing my best not to walk on the dog while the basket swayed dangerously in my hands.
I needed to get out of there. “Well, I can see you’re busy.” I knew my words came out fast and that it sounded like I was babbling, but I no longer cared. “I didn’t mean to intrude or anything.” I took another step backward and did my best to ignore the dog and balance the heavy basket of goodies in my arms. “If you want, I’ll just leave these here for you to enjoy and—”
“I’m not looking for vendors,” he said, slowly shaking his head. At least he’d slowed his approach, though he was now only a few feet away. “I do all my own creations.” I caught a whiff of sugar and something spicy that instantly had my head spinning. He was now so close, I could see the color of his eyes—or, at least, I would have been able to, had the lights been on. But something told me they were a deep chocolate brown.
I didn’t understand the pull he had on me. It was like I couldn’t look away. Maybe it was the way people felt when they were staring into the eyes of an alert cobra. But was he dangerous? I needed to wrangle myself under control already, because I was clearly making a mess of this entire encounter, thanks to my flustered and nervous state.
“Did ya hear me, then?” He was talking again, and I started because I realized I hadn’t heard him and was, in fact, lost in my thoughts instead. That was a very dangerous place to be.
“I said I can’t have you in here,” he repeated. “It’s not safe.”
Two things occurred to me then—well, okay, three things. One, the faint accent I’d sworn I’d heard earlier told me the man was Scottish. Two, that explained the Scotty dog, though it seemed so cliché I almost giggled.
And three, he obviously thought I was there to push product on him so he’d sell my things in his candy shop. Didn’t he recognize me as the woman he nodded to earlier in the alleyway and on the street?
“I don’t think you understand,” I practically whispered, barely able to muster more. “My name is Ivy—”
The dog barked sharply, and I was so startled I threw up my hands and then watched, open-mouthed, as disaster instantly unfolded before my eyes. The laden sailed out of my hands and landed with a horrifying splat on the floor. A handful of sugar cookies shot out of the basket and heaven only knew what damage befell the rest of the contents. Without missing a beat, the dog turned tail and sprinted over to the mess. My heart-shaped sugar cookies now littered the man’s nice, clean floor.
