“I probably should have warned you of this annual shopping excursion.” Maggie shut her car door and pulled a pair of gloves from her jacket pocket. “My family takes it pretty seriously.” She gestured to where Carolyn had spread a map of the complex over the hood of her SUV a few parking spaces away. Harper was studying it over her mother’s shoulder and nodding as they both pointed to various shops on the paper.
“I can see that.” They shared a grin, and not for the first time that day, he felt an overwhelming rush of relief. Relief that Maggie was nothing like self-absorbed Harper. Relief that she hadn’t suspected anything about him and her stepsister. And relief that the awkwardness of last night’s staircase encounter had disintegrated. Still, he’d made sure to keep a respectful distance from Maggie in the kitchen while baking together that morning. He couldn’t afford another heated moment of confusion.
He watched her from the corner of his eye as she tugged on her gloves, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her smooth white skin even more porcelain than usual against the blue of her coat. Maggie was a friend.
No, that was a lie. She was a good friend, someone he looked forward to continuing to hang out with when they got back home.
Still a lie. He clenched his jaw. Okay, a really good friend, who smelled nice, and made him laugh, and kept him awake at night.
She planted her gloved hands on her hips and turned toward the hill descending to the village, her head tilted back to the sky—the same color as her coat. Something warmed inside him, despite the cold biting at his nose. He couldn’t wait for the contest tomorrow. He was even looking forward to spending the next few hours shopping with her, oddly enough. Maybe they’d get time away from her stepmom and stepsister and she could relax—then it’d be like it was on the road trip up to the resort, before the reality of her family dynamic had hit. Back when she’d let her hair down, so to speak, and had fun with him.
Another reason he wanted to be with her alone today was that he didn’t fully trust Harper to keep their secret intact.
His gaze flitted to Maggie’s stepsister, who was standing with one jean-clad hip braced against Carolyn’s car, popping a bubble with her gum. Her tanned complexion, while usually quite beautiful, appeared almost orange against the white of her coat. No one was naturally tan this time of year, and the tanning bed was calling her out on it. She looked artificial. Sort of like her relationship with Griff had been.
He shifted his gaze back to Maggie. This secret with Harper was feeling more like betrayal to Maggie with every passing moment, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. At some point he’d have to tell her the truth about his and Harper’s history, but so much time had passed by now, it’d just look suspicious.
But with Maggie’s obvious insecurities toward her stepsister, he wanted to delay that as long as possible. He wanted to keep having fun with her—and really wanted her to see that whatever mirror she was using to compare herself to Harper wasn’t one worth peering into.
Still, the more time that passed, the worse this secret would look. He had to find the right moment to confess—one that wouldn’t distract her from tomorrow’s big competition.
“Why don’t you two start at Gilley’s Department Store, and work your way toward us?” Carolyn folded her map with authority. “We’ll start at Bird House Gifts, and then we can all regroup for lunch at The Snowflake.”
Her suggestion left no room for argument, not that Griff would have had any. His only agenda for the day was to slip away at some point and find a little something for Maggie. He wanted to get her a victory gift for tomorrow—he was still convinced she was guaranteed the baking win. She didn’t seem as nervous today during their practice run, although, that could have been because he hadn’t been all up on her, faking affection for Carolyn’s sake.
Of course, at this point he probably needed to download a dictionary app on his phone, because the memory of Maggie’s soft cheek against his neck made him wonder if he even knew the definition of fake anymore.
“Faux.”
Griff jerked to look at Maggie, close at his elbow. “What?” His eyes widened and he swallowed. Had he said his thoughts out loud?
“I said, look at all the fresh snow.” She shot him a funny look, and he laughed, about a pitch higher than normal, and quickly cleared his throat.
Carolyn and Harper started heading down the slope to the shops, and Maggie moved to follow. On instinct, he grabbed her hand and held her back a few paces. Her gloved fingers naturally laced through his, and she looked up at him in surprise—probably because they were still holding hands, and Carolyn and Harper’s backs were to them. There was no reason to fake affection this time.
He searched for an explanation to give, one that didn’t involve him admitting he just really liked holding her hand. “I wanted to give us a little space from them.”
“Oh, right.” Maggie pulled her hand free and fiddled with the strap of her purse. “Good thinking. That’ll make it easier, not having to worry about them watching.” She winked. “You can be off duty for a bit.”
But he liked this job—and really wanted to push her up against the SUV and kiss her senseless, with or without an audience. And not because of proving something to her stepfamily, but because every moment he spent standing this close to Maggie made him wonder why he wasn’t kissing her.
The reality of what was happening slammed him like a snowball. Man, he was in danger of making a fool of himself again. Of being too vulnerable, too open. That hadn’t exactly gone well with Harper years ago. And while they might be totally different sisters, Maggie still held the same power to crush him if he let her.
He couldn’t let her. A bit of distance was better, even if the thought disappointed him more than he wanted to admit.
He shrugged, as if it he didn’t care that she’d dropped his hand. That it didn’t matter that he was already dreading returning to their normal lives in a few days. That he wasn’t noticing how long her lashes were when she peered up at him or how cute she looked with a red-tipped nose.
“Actually, I meant it would give us some space to talk strategy for tomorrow. The big day.” Griff nudged her in the side, desperate to return to their easy banter—before all these stupid emotions got in the way—and her cheeks flushed.
She shrugged. “Not sure what strategy there is other than to win.”
“There you go. There’s that confidence I was looking for.” He slapped her a high five. She was getting there. Now he just needed to head into one of these shops and find her the perfect victory gift, and she’d be ready to win.
And maybe that would distract him from the sudden urge he had to win her.
What did one buy a bookstore owner with eclectic taste? Not to mention a bookstore owner he’d only known for a few months who adored fairytales, classic novels, and collected mini figurines of characters from stories he’d never even heard of?
Griff picked up a necklace from a hanging rack of the somewhat gaudy store he’d wandered into when Maggie wasn’t looking, and studied it. The blue oval jewel in a silver setting was pretty, but it didn’t scream Maggie. Plus, judging by the price tag, it wasn’t real, so it’d probably turn her neck green in a few weeks. Not exactly the lasting memory he was hoping to create.
He strolled down the next row, which smelled like incense, and kept a careful eye out for Maggie, who hopefully was still oblivious next door in the homemade candle shop. He picked up another piece of costume jewelry, then immediately discarded the fake pearls. They still weren’t right.
He moved on to the next aisle, which was filled with used books. He assumed the shop owner had some sort of system to the organized chaos, because the fourth in the Harry Potter series nestled directly next to a tired, dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre. He should go get Maggie—she’d want to see this. She might even find something to take back to the store.
Then a particular book caught his eye, wedged between an old Encyclopedia and a dusty copy of To Kill a Mockingbir
d. The tan cover beckoned between the dark spines of the neighboring volumes, and he tugged it free from the shelf. The gold-tinged words Finding Ever After were printed across the front.
He flipped carefully through the thin pages, the hand-drawn pictures of familiar fairytales flashing past in various tones of green and blue and gold. The trapped princess in the tower with the long hair. That book-loving woman who fell in love with the beast. Little Red Riding Hood.
The page fell open to Snow White. The princess’ dark hair and milky white skin reminded him a lot of Maggie. The seven dwarfs paraded across the next page, with their short, stumpy legs and long, drooping beards.
Someone had certainly loved this book prior—several pages contained tiny circular water stains, as if someone had cried over the ink. Little doodles filled the margins of other pages, with pictures and tiny words scripted in a handwriting he couldn’t decipher. This book obviously held stories—multiples ones, judging by the title page—but it looked like it, too, was a story in itself.
Sort of like a certain bookstore owner he knew.
Griff shut the book with a snap. It was definitely the type of thing that would intrigue Maggie. Victory gift secure. He hurried toward the cash register, before Maggie realized he wasn’t still in the candle shop, and pulled out his wallet for the clerk.
“This is a gift for someone with me.” Griff leaned over the counter and lowered his voice. “Would you mind double bagging it so she won’t see what it is?”
“Of course.” The short, middle-aged clerk, whose name tag pinned on his vest read SAM in all capital letters, secured the heavy book inside two plastic bags decorated with the store’s eyeglass-wearing cat logo.
Griff reached for it as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket, but Sam held it just out a reach. Griff looked at him in surprise, but the clerk’s glasses contained a mirrored tint, so he couldn’t see his eyes.
“This book is special, you know.”
Griff’s arm lowered onto the counter. “I’m sure all of your products are very nice.” He reached again.
Sam didn’t budge. Instead, he ducked his chin to peer at Griff over his gold-rimmed glasses, revealing knowing brown eyes. “Is it for a special someone?”
Griff opened his mouth, then shook his head. Then nodded. Then shook his head again as he shrugged.
“Well? Which is it?” Sam raised his eyebrows.
“It’s…complicated.”
Sam snorted. “Come on, now. This isn’t a social media status. You can tell Sam the truth.”
What kind of store was this? Griff looked over his shoulder, hoping another customer would appear that would prompt Sam back into normal-employee-mode, but no such luck.
“Don’t follow your heart unless your head is in agreement.” Sam dipped his glasses to look Griff in the eye. “Emotions are fickle things, unless paired with good sense.”
Weirdest. Store. Ever. But he had nothing to lose at this point. “Okay, I admit. She’s special. Really special.”
A slow grin slid over Sam’s face. “Have you told her?”
“Not exactly.” Griff blew out his breath in a huff. “It really is complicated.”
“Rarely as much as you think.” Sam lifted his chin, so his glasses transitioned back to mirrored.
Griff caught his own reflection in them, at his disheveled hair and his arms braced imposingly on the counter. He looked…agitated. He tried to relax his stance. But thoughts of Maggie suddenly had him on edge. Or maybe it was this weird character stirring up all kinds of conflicting emotions he’d been trying in vain to suppress. He held his hand out for his purchase.
Sam ignored it. “Go ahead. Ask.”
Griff frowned. “Ask what? When you’re going to give me her book?”
“Is it just hers?”
“I wasn’t going to draw up a custody agreement, if that’s what you mean.”
Sam shook his head with a tsk. “Love is wasted on the young.”
Young? This guy had to be only about ten or twelve years older than him. “Look, not to be rude, but I really don’t have time—”
“The book is your story too.”
“I’m not a big reader.”
Sam leaned forward slightly over the counter, Griff’s own reflection looming before him. “I didn’t say anything about reading it.” He grinned, then handed the bag to him.
Finally. Griff sighed in relief. Now he just had to find a way to keep this hidden from Maggie until tomorrow. He hooked the bag on his arm and turned, just as someone tapped his shoulder.
Touching Griff never got old, even a simple tap on his arm—his very firm arm.
Maggie quickly pulled her hand back and tucked her fingers into a fist to conceal the electric shock pulsing inside them. “There you are. I turned around to get you to smell a cinnamon apple candle and you’d vanished.”
She smiled, expecting Griff to laugh, but he just grabbed her elbow and side-stepped her away from the counter. Her smile dropped as she shuffled to keep up with him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just, you know, making room for the next customer.” Griff folded his arms across his chest, his jaw tight.
Maggie cast a glance around the empty store. “I see.” Then she noticed the bag tucked inside his grip. She tried again. “What’d you get?”
“Nothing.”
Okay, something was up. She raised her eyebrow at him.
“I mean, nothing you’d be interested in. Just some knickknack for my mom. She likes this kind of stuff.” Griff gestured to the shelves around them.
He was bringing his mom a souvenir? That was sweet—but a little confusing. What would he tell his mom about why he was even there? Was he going to tell her about their relationship?
She caught herself. No. Their relationship was fake. So why would he tell his mom? This kept getting more and more complicated. Especially when simply tapping the man on the shoulder jolted her like a dozen volts.
Something vibrated in her pocket, and she jumped. Not electricity. Just her phone. She pulled it out to see a slew of text messages from her bookclub guys.
Dan: Have you told him yet?
Beeker: Here comes the bride…
Dave: Wait. Is he really going to do it?
Kyle: You can’t fake a proposal, Mags. That’s not right.
Lester: She has to!
Moe: Yeah, man, she can’t miss this opp to shove it in GS’s face. Can’t back out now.
Kyle: GS?
Moe: Gorgeous Stepsister. #duh.
She quickly pocketed her phone. Kyle was wrong. And Moe was right. She had to make good on this opportunity. She couldn’t lose the ground she’d gained by having Carolyn be proud of her—and Harper jealous. She’d never get a double strike of lighting like that again. Finally, she’d be respected. Admired. Validated.
All the things she hadn’t felt since her dad’s death.
“You ready for lunch?” Griff nodded toward the front door of the shop, then did a double take at the cash register. The store clerk, wearing mirrored glasses, was draped across the counter, grinning widely at them.
Maggie smiled back, awkwardly. The man waved. She waved back. “Friendly place.”
“You have no idea. Should we go?” Griff reached for her elbow again, but she dodged his attempt—solely for the sake of sparing her heart the electric shock.
“Wait.” She had to tell him—now. It was her only chance. She twisted so her back was turned to the nosy employee and lowered her voice. “There’s something you need to know before we go meet Carolyn and Harper.”
“That they’re going to lose the competition tomorrow? I already know that.” Griff smiled at her, his expression relaxed for the first time since she came in the store. Whatever had worked him up a moment ago had passed. This was the perfect time.
Except for the bundle of nerves in her stomach. She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Harper and my stepmom think—”
Griff reached out and assisted with the str
ay lock of hair that caught in her coat collar, his fingers brushing against her neck as he gently tugged. “Think what?”
Maggie swallowed, her train of thought completely off the tracks. Oh yeah. Marriage. She blurted it out before she could change her mind. “They think you’re going to propose to me.”
“What?” Shock registered in Griff’s voice and eyes at the same time. His hand fell to his side.
“Today.” She licked her lips, which were suddenly dry.
He ran his hand over his beard, exhaling deeply. “And why would they think that?”
“Because Carolyn thinks you’re perfect for me, apparently. That you’re the one.” Maggie averted her gaze, away from his clouded expression she couldn’t read. Was he annoyed? Or amused? “She thinks we’re that serious.”
“Serious.” Griff parroted.
Severe. Sincere. Steady. “She thinks you’re the one.”
“The one.” Griff repeated.
Maggie nodded. “Harper said it was obvious in the way you looked at me.”
She met his gaze then, full on, and suddenly, she could see what Harper allegedly saw. He was looking at her that way, right now—and Harper and Carolyn were nowhere in sight.
Something shifted in the air between them, crackling like the static in her sweater. And suddenly, their façade didn’t feel like a façade. It felt real.
Real feelings. Real emotion. Real chemistry.
Was he feeling it too? Every nerve in her body tingled, and her stomach dipped like an airplane through turbulence.
Conflict. Instability. Turmoil.
Why wasn’t he saying anything?
She clenched her hands into fists at her side, willing her heartrate to slow to normal. He hadn’t looked away, and the expression in her eyes was like the one she’d so often imagined fairytale heroes to have when they looked at their princess.
“So? Will you do it?” Her voice cracked, and the next thing she knew, Griff swept her into his arms. The bag he held bumped against her side as his arm tightened around her waist, his free hand reaching to cup the back of her head. His palm was warm against her neck, and his lips found hers in a way that answered every question she’d ever had.
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