Zoey waved at Clove. “How ya doin’, hon?”
“Good.” Clove lifted a hand in return and kept her eyes on the floor in front of her–suddenly shy and worried that she would spill all over herself when she took the cocoa up to pay.
Zoey darted her eyes to the cowboy at the counter and then winked at Clove–telling her that he was a cutie. Great! Apparently, he’d been carved from a handsome stone and dropped in her path.
She couldn’t tell how cute he was from this angle, unless she was judging by his backside. She winked back because the view from back here was mighty nice as well. Oh, my gosh! She was such a goober.Pull yourself together, woman!She silently screamed. He’s just a man… standing in front of a map… Asking for directions … Great, now she was miss quoting chick-flicks. The next thing she knew, she’d be thinking Jane Austen-ish thoughts.
Not one second later, a Jane Austen reference ran through her mind:… it must be very improper that a young lady should dream of a gentleman before the gentleman is first known to have dreamt of her.
She wasn’t dreaming of this cowboy, but she sure felt something for him before he felt it for her. He hadn’t even seen her yet. Might never see her, depending on how long she could debate over a creamer flavor to add to her cocoa.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, and her stomach flipped three times.Sorry, Jane-dear, but sometimes a lady’s butterflies cannot help but be improper when regarding an impressive gentleman of a cowboy nature.
I’m such a dork.
Here she was, trying to forget her lack-of-relationship blues and she’d walked right into fanciful quicksand, slipping deeper and deeper by the second.
At least he was an out of towner. She could look at him, catalog all the beautiful things, and then he would drive away, and she didn’t have to feel bad that she hadn’t been able to make him stay.
Win-Win. Right?
“Any wildlife in the area?” asked the stranger. He had a silky voice, the kind that could wrap around a woman and treat her right.
Clove shook her head at her shamelessness as she pulled her glove off with her teeth.
“Most of the larger animals are hibernating.” Zoey leaned a hip against the counter. “You’ll want to watch out for wolves.”
“Wolves?” he asked.
“You can hear them howling at night.” Trevor wiggled his fingers like he was telling a ghost story. “Last year, they pulled two guys from their tent and no one ever heard from them again.”
Clove snorted. That story circulated through high school bonfires when she was in school.
“You don’t say?” his skepticism came across—though it was subtle.
“I think they got cold and abandoned camp,” Zoey clarified. “If there ever were two guys who disappeared.”
“You don’t know–not for sure,” Trevor argued.
Zoey cocked her head but didn’t reply. No one ever really knew for sure about legends and myths, did they?Big foot could be out there. Dun. Dun. Duuuuun.
Clove couldn’t help but hear them and mentally join in their conversation. She poured caramel creamer into the steaming cup and put a lid on it. Hopefully, this guy would be gone soon, and she’d have Zoey to herself for a few minutes so they could talk about him. She’d have to fill her in on the whole Allen/Grandma/date/not-date situation.
“Any reindeer?” asked the cowboy.
Her ears perked up. Reindeer were right up her alley–er, snow-covered path.
“Not in this neck of the woods,” replied Trevor. He sniffed and swiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“Except Felix,” added Zoey. She grinned over the stranger’s shoulder at Clove with a look in her eye that said:I’m tossing you a softball, don’t drop it.
Clove knocked over the stack of lids. What in the world was Zoey doing? She didn’t want in on this conversation. Invisible ogling was all she was up for, dressed in puffy winter clothing, her nose and cheeks bright red from the cold, and her hair plastered to her head. Helmet hair was never flattering.
“Felix?” asked the deep voice of goodness. He could bottle that voice and sell it to millions of women on the internet. Heck, she’d buy a bottle ofDeep Voice–the Way a Lover Should Sound.
Trevor tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to her. This was it! There was no place to run; unless she wanted to fold herself into one of the lower cabinets with the extra styrofoam cups, there was nowhere to hide. Her hands grew warm, and her heart skipped several beats.
It wasn’t that she was introverted; it had just been a long time since she’d flirted with anyone; a lonely, long time without mistletoe hopes and dreams and, as she’d told Grandma, withoutfeelings. There was certainly a lack of ups or downs lately. Maybe she needed to see a doctor and have her hormone level checked.
