One Christmas Eve

by Shannon Stacey

  “Zoe.”

  When her cousin didn’t say anything else, she finally took her attention away from the large glass bowl she was considering filling with M&Ms or Starburst candies and looked at Carly, who was waiting for the laptop to boot up. “What?”

  “When I asked what you were doing, I guess what I really meant was why aren’t you doing the display we spent a week planning?”

  If she was being honest, Zoe would have to admit it was because the patriotic display they had planned honoring local veterans would be something Preston Wheeler would find entirely suitable, but she didn’t think Carly would appreciate that answer. “I am going to do that display and everybody’s going to love it. I just want to do a temporary but really fun and eye-catching window before that one. Just for a few days.”

  “Why do I get the feeling this has something to do with our new neighbor?”

  Zoe looked around the materials she’d gathered for the display and couldn’t stop the satisfied smile that curved her lips. He was really going to hate it. “Why do you think that?”

  “Why don’t you try being friendly instead,” Carly suggested, and then she took a long drink of coffee, but she kept her eyebrows raised so she was still making her point without even talking.

  “He was unfriendly first.”

  “Okay, but this isn’t elementary school. We’re business owners and so is he and, who knows, you might even like him if you give him a chance.”

  Oh, Zoe knew exactly what she meant by that. She’d been dodging Carly’s attempts to set her up for the last two months. “The last thing I need in my life is an uptight nerd.”

  “You talked to him for maybe two minutes. He might not be as uptight as you think.”

  “His name is Preston, Carly. Preston.”

  “And?”

  “There’s no nickname for Preston. His parents gave him a preppy name that can’t be shortened, which means they’re probably as uptight and nerdy as their son. I bet they drive gray sedans, too.”

  Carly laughed, which just annoyed her more. “This guy really got under your skin.”

  “He’s not under my anything.” Zoe walked over and took a sip of Carly’s coffee, even though she’d been trying to give up caffeine for months. “You know what’s going on here? You got married and now you won’t be happy until I’m married too.”

  “That’s a movie cliché.”

  Zoe gave her a pointed look. “Oh, you mean like going on a trip, pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend, but there’s only one bed so you end up living happily ever after with him? That kind of movie cliché?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Not really. Sometimes clichés are clichés because they’re true. Like women who get married and then feel a sudden urge to shove their friends to the altar.”

  “I’d like to shove you off our altar,” Carly muttered, and Zoe laughed because her cousin had gotten married on their grandfather’s boat dock. “Go talk to him, Zoe.”

  She could not believe the words coming out of her cousin’s mouth right now. “Talk to him about what?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a one-year lease, so he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Just...be neighborly.”

  “Oh, should I run home and bake him a pie first?”

  “I’ve had your pie and I’m going to vote no.” Carly wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think that would help. You could buy one at the market, though. Maybe if you sprinkle some flour on your shirt, he’ll think you baked it.”

  “And yet you deny you’re trying to find me a husband.”

  Carly set her coffee cup down with a thump that would have sent coffee flying if it wasn’t almost empty. “Or maybe I just don’t want to get caught up in a battle of wills—or legal complaints—between you, this guy, the town and our grandfather. So what if he gets a little snotty about the sexy stuff. He’s not the first and he definitely won’t be the last, so why is his attitude even a thing for you?”

  Zoe started to open her mouth, but she didn’t actually have an answer that made any sense, so she closed it again.

  She had no idea why Preston Wheeler’s disapproval got under her skin—because despite her denial to her cousin, it most certainly had—or why he’d been in her thoughts almost constantly since she’d spotted him through the window. He’d even cost her some sleep, since she’d done a lot of tossing and turning as she relived over and over that buzz of attraction being short-circuited by the look he gave her. Or that he gave her window display. Either way, it had the same effect.

  She’d actually—finally—felt a strong jolt of desire for a man and he’d gone and ruined it. And yeah, she was mad about it.

  “Fine,” she snapped, just because she didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “I’ll go talk to him. And I’ll try to make nice.”

  “Try hard, Zoe. I mean it. Granddad giving us a break on the rent is one of the reasons we could open this place, so we don’t need to be making things more difficult for him.”

  Since Zoe lived in the apartment over the bookstore and her rent also got the family discount, she knew very well how much their grandfather helped them out.

  Rather than risk making a snarky comment and dragging this conversation on until it became a rare fight between them, Zoe rolled her eyes and headed for the door. Maybe it would be smarter to give it a few minutes and figure out what, exactly, she was going to say, but she didn’t think it would help. And she’d just have to put up with Carly’s two cents and she wasn’t in the mood.

  Once she was standing out on the sidewalk, she did take a second, though. The gorgeous stained glass set into the blue door always made her smile, and she let the sense of pride and accomplishment fill her heart. She’d done this. She’d left behind a man who didn’t deserve her—and her parents who’d implied she didn’t deserve him by taking his side—and the life she’d thought she was going to live. Instead, she’d shown up in town and told Carly it was time to reach for their dream. Now they were living that dream together, she was happier than she’d ever been, and she needed to stop letting minor annoyances—like judgmental business neighbors—temper her joy.

  The bare window made her twitchy, though, so it was time to get this over with so she could go back to decorating it.

  The glass window in Preston’s door was frosted, and the words Wheeler Legal Services & Estate Planning had been added in very subtle gray vinyl letters. Sheer drapes hung in the window between their two doors, offering some privacy to whoever was inside his office. Between the drapes and the glass hung a small, tasteful sign reading Please Come In.

  Of course it was tasteful. That sort of thing was obviously important to him. After allowing herself one final eye roll, Zoe took a deep breath and then opened the door.

  She barely had time to register how well his furniture went with their paint job before her gaze landed on Preston. He was sitting at a very simple desk, with his laptop open in front of him. As their eyes met, he took off a pair of black-rimmed glasses—and holy hell, those were so much sexier on a man than she’d ever imagined they’d be—and set them to one side.

  “Good morning,” he said, leaning back in the leather chair.

  “Hi. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure. Have a seat.”

  She would have sat across the desk from him, but there wasn’t a chair there, and he gestured at the grouping of furniture as he stood. It was pretty obvious from the arrangement which chair was his, so she sat on the loveseat across from it, inexplicably nervous all of a sudden. Maybe she should have taken the time to come up with a loose script for this meeting. Or at least a few bullet points. Be neighborly and don’t bake him a pie wasn’t much to go on.

  “What can I do for you today?” he asked as he sat in his chair.

  It belatedly occurred to her he might think she was there to hire him for somethi
ng. And now that she was sitting there, she realized that owning a business with her cousin meant they actually should do some estate planning in the very near future. But not today.

  “I just...” She let the words trail away, unsure of what to say.

  He unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve and folded it once. After a quick tug on the fabric to straighten it, he folded it again.

  Zoe couldn’t tear her gaze away from the slow and precise revelation of skin, as if it was some kind of bizarre strip tease. The man had great forearms, she thought as he tugged the folded cuff almost to his elbow.

  “Zoe?”

  She blinked and then forced herself to look at his face. Honestly, the intensity of his dark gaze and the way his eyebrow arched was almost as distracting as his forearm, but she made herself concentrate. “I just think we got off on the wrong foot and I wanted to... I don’t know. Apologize, I guess?”

  “You guess?”

  He was folding up his other sleeve now and she tried not to look. She tried really hard not to, but the man had incredibly sexy arms and she could picture—hell, she could practically feel—her long red nails skimming over his lightly tanned skin from sleeve to wrist and back.

  “Yeah, I guess.” She was going to have to keep her eyes on his face if she wanted to get through this. But when she saw the slight curve of his lips and realized he had an idea of the effect his little arm peepshow was having on her, she got pissed off all over again. “No. I don’t actually want to apologize because I didn’t do anything wrong and therefore have nothing to be sorry for. Mostly I just don’t want to have conflict with somebody who’s going to be right next door for at least a year.”

  “Okay.” He leaned back in his chair, and when he reached for the knot on his tie, heat flushed across Zoe’s face. He had to be doing it on purpose. But after ensuring the knot was straight, he dropped his hand to the arm of the chair. “You’re not sorry and you’re not apologizing, so what are you here to accomplish?”

  “Like I said, I don’t have anything to apologize for, so—”

  “You could apologize for the way you drive.”

  “I’m sorry I cut you off. I guess gray sedans are so boring, my eyes skipped right over your car.” She looked around the room. “You really do like gray a lot.”

  His jaw clenched for a few seconds, and she was pleased to have finally annoyed him as much as he was annoying her. “It’s a soothing, neutral color.”

  “Okay, so I’ll apologize for cutting you off and you can apologize for insulting me and then we can ignore each other except for the occasional head nod when we cross paths like good neighbors do.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t insult you.”

  “You called me entirely unsuitable,” she reminded him. The words didn’t really bother her. It was the look that had hurt her. But she didn’t want to bare enough of her soul to explain that emotional injury to a stranger, so the words he’d said would have to suffice.

  “No, I said the previous display had been entirely suitable.” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “And even with the implication the display yesterday was not entirely suitable, I was still talking about a window display and not you personally.”

  “Fine.” She stood and after a moment’s hesitation, he did as well. “So we’ll just put that to rest and stay out of each other’s business and we’ll get along just fine.”

  He nodded. “And I’m sure with the holidays coming up, you’ll be doing some festive window displays that don’t involve half-dressed witches wearing fishnet stockings.”

  “No witches in fishnet for Christmas, no.”

  “Good.”

  She made a mental note to order the sexy Mrs. Claus statue she’d seen on the same site she’d bought the witch from. “Good luck with your business.”

  He walked her to the door, opening it for her, which she supposed was something he did when clients were leaving, just to be polite. But she felt as if the hand sweep was a little much. Here’s the door. Don’t let it hit you in the ass on the way out.

  “Have a good day,” he said as her feet hit the sidewalk.

  Oh she would have a very good day. She had a window to decorate for National Candy Day. Candy could be sweet, but it could also be so tart it would make Preston Wheeler’s face pucker.

  Zoe was grinning as she stepped back into Cedar Street Books. Yeah, it was going to be a good day, for sure.

  * * *

  When his watch buzzed with a reminder to eat lunch, Preston saved his work and closed the laptop. Rather than eating at his desk, he decided it was a good day to walk to the cafe and get a proper meal.

  After replacing his welcome sign in the window with a small Out to Lunch sign, he locked up and started walking.

  Do not look.

  He tried not to, but he’d only taken a few steps before he turned his head to look in the Cedar Street Books window.

  He stopped walking. She didn’t.

  But yes, in fact, she had.

  Unlike the Halloween display, which had filled the massive window, Zoe’s National Candy Day display was small, but it certainly sent a message. On a tiered shelf was an open bag of Red Hots spilling into a glass bowl. Looking closely, he could see she’d strung the candies on some kind of wire or fishing line and he wondered how long that had taken her. A chalkboard easel had been written on with pink chalk. Red hot reads for National Candy Day!

  The covers of the books displayed were...well, they were well beyond entirely unsuitable. He would have choked if he’d been eating or drinking anything while he walked. Every single one screamed sex, and his eyes widened as his gaze bounced from one to the next. Red lips sucking a candy cane was a common theme. A woman that, for some reason, was in a bathtub full of candy that barely covered the parts of her body that needed covering in public. A close-up of a tongue licking a rainbow-colored lollipop.

  Movement caught his eye and he saw Zoe looking at him from the other side of the glass. When their eyes met, she smiled and gave him a slow nod before turning her back on him.

  His first instinct was to march into the bookstore and ask her what the hell had happened to being neighborly. But he was a smart man and he knew that not only was whatever came out of his mouth going to make it worse, but she was pissed off enough so she wasn’t going to be reasonable.

  Their brief conversation this morning hadn’t seemed particularly inflammatory to him, though he wouldn’t have claimed they actually made peace, and look what had happened.

  He forced himself to keep walking without looking back and considered his options.

  Reasoning with her probably wouldn’t work. But maybe he could talk to the other woman. Carly, he thought her name was.

  Or he could file a formal complaint with the town. This was a town that prided itself on attracting tourists with its historical charm and he didn’t think women suggestively sucking candy canes fit their image very well.

  Maybe he should start with the landlord, though. The lease agreement he’d signed, which he assumed would be similar if not the same as the one the women had signed, hadn’t specifically prohibited sexually suggestive material in the window, but there had been a bit about maintaining the storefront in a way that didn’t violate any of the town’s articles governing the commercial district. He’d have to look into those when he got a chance.

  When he reached the Cedar Street Café, with its simple logo made up of a white plate and cutlery on a blue background with their name in a circle around it, he told himself to put a pin in the issue of the bookstore and enjoy his lunch.

  It was his second time in the café, since he’d eaten there after seeing the office space for the first time. He was horrible at packing lunches and didn’t want to snack on a bunch of junk throughout the day, so he’d walked the neighborhood to make a list of viable choices. After perusing those menus and the Yelp reviews onl
ine, he’d decided this café was perfect to get him out of the office for at least a little exercise and a balanced lunch for a reasonable price.

  The Cedar Street Café also had a lunch counter, so he didn’t have to feel awkward about taking up an entire table just for himself. He sat on one of the stools and once a young woman set wrapped silverware in front of him, he ordered a glass of ice water and a burger with fries. He’d be good and have a turkey sandwich with a side salad tomorrow. Probably.

  Then he pulled out his phone, intending to catch up on the family goings-on while he waited for his meal. His first stop was Instagram because he got all the fun pictures with none of the drama and propaganda of Facebook. His account was private and he rarely posted photos, but he liked being able to watch his mother’s account. If nothing else, it helped him keep tabs on where his parents were.

  After tapping the heart icon under a photo of his dad grinning in a casino that might have been in Connecticut or Las Vegas for all he knew, his thumb hovered over the search button.

  He really shouldn’t.

  Cedar Street Books.

  The profile picture was the distinctive blue door with the stained glass window, but the most recent photograph was of Zoe. She’d taken a selfie with the window display as a backdrop and directly over her shoulder was a paperback book with a male torso on it. A male torso, naked and so chiseled that Preston almost regretted choosing a burger for lunch, while at the same time, he was tempted to add a strawberry frappe to the order.

  But what kept him from scrolling down to the next photo in the feed was Zoe’s face. She was smiling around the tip of a lollipop the same red as her lipstick, and behind the suggestive glint in her eye, he could see the irritation.

  The woman certainly knew how to get a point across.

  He swiped the app closed and a few seconds later, a heavy hand dropped on his shoulder, making him jump. Then the man sat on the stool next to him and he saw that it was his landlord, Joe Randall.

  “Hey, Joe. How’s it going?”