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“Right. Cal, who ran off to the big city for bigger opportunities.” Ivy sticks her nose up before pointing at me. “His loss.”

I offer her a grateful smile. Calvin was nice. We’d hit it off, and I thought we wanted the same thing. Then he left Dasher Valley. And me.

I’m sensing a pattern.

I try to shove that thought out of my head, but it’s getting harder and harder not to feel like I’m the problem. My parents? Left me and Jack orphans. Gabe? Left me for a music career. Cal? Left me for the big city.

People always leave. All I want to do is stay. Be grounded and rooted in a place. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for.

“But for real. This is good,” Ivy continues. “You can use running into Gabe as motivation to see who else is out there.”

“Because Dasher Valley is teeming with eligible bachelors.” I don’t hide my snark.

“Okay, Little Miss Negative Nancy.” Ivy presses her fists to her hips. “We’re forty minutes south of Milwaukee and an hour or so north of Chicago. I know how important this community is to you, and I admire how much you love it here. But there’s nothing stopping you from casting a wider net. You can find a nice guy in either city and still live out your dream of married bliss here in the Valley.”

“I guess so.” I take another stab at the garland before stopping to sip my latte, considering her words. Maybe Ivy is onto something. If I put myself out there, I won’t have time to dwell on Gabe and the past. The thought of the future is scary, though. The unknown always is.

“You make it sound so easy,” I grumble. “You and Jack are lucky. You had me as your matchmaker.”

“And you know I’m eternally grateful for that. I love your brother.” Her eyes take on a faraway look, but then she blinks and turns her focus back to me. “Which is why I need to pay it forward. I’ll help you find your perfect man. It’s the best time of year for it, too. Nothing says romance like Christmas. Heck, the holiday is the beginning of the greatest love story ever.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we can just throw together tall, dark, and handsome, mix in a sprinkle of loyalty, add a love for books and small towns, and a dash of self-deprecating humor and whip up the perfect man out of thin—”

The jingle bells above the door jangle, signaling a customer’s arrival.

“—air,” I finish as my eyes take in a tall dark-haired man, who nods at me from the entrance to the store.

He waves and offers us a crooked smile. “Morning.”

His voice is nice and gravelly. I forgot about a good, gravelly voice when I was rattling off my recipe for the perfect man.

“Um. Hi. Hello. We’ll be right with you,” I stutter.

Ivy’s eyes are wide as she looks the unsuspecting man up and down before leaning toward me.

“Or maybe we can just conjure up the perfect man! Maybe,” she whispers to me, “he’s the one. It could be fate. Divine providence. The heavens shining down upon you.”

I shake my head, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.

Ivy wiggles her eyebrows before walking backward away from me. “I’m going to go check on the inventory.”

I narrow my gaze, but she waves in the direction of our customer. “Go! Mingle! Be charming. Fall in love.”

She sashays off before I can find a book to throw at her. Figuratively. I wouldn’t actually throw a book at her. Because I love her. And because I love books.

I pin the last part of the garland in place before straightening my sweater. It’s an off-the-shoulder black knit crop that I’ve paired with my favorite light-wash jeans. I shove my hair behind my ears, put on my most professional yet friendly owner-of-a-bookstore-in-a-quaint-small-town smile, and ease my way toward the customer.

As I get closer, I catch a whiff of his aftershave. It’s a little pepperminty and a little sweet, like he licked a candy cane, dunked it into a bowl of sugar, and then smeared it all over himself. I frown at the weird image I created for myself there, but I don’t hate the smell. In fact, he’s like the perfect blend of two of my favorite holiday scents. Another mark in his favor.

“Hey there.” I greet him when he glances up from peering at the display table in the front of the store.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Welcome to Dash Away Books. I’m Beth, the owner.”

“Wow, this is your place?” He looks around, and his eyes hold an appreciative gleam as they sweep over the books and the twinkle lights.

“Sure is,” I say with a smile. “Happy place and place of employment.”