Mindy shrugged, then launched into a story about her latest Christmas shopping drama.
Layla only half listened to Mindy, too busy contemplating the terrible notion of Sebastian Harrington moving into the house near hers. Not going to happen. She’d worked too long and hard to find her place on the waterfront. It was a peaceful, two-bedroom home with a modest yard and lovely floor-to-ceiling windows facing the ocean. All her life, Layla had dreamed of living in a beautiful house, a real house, instead of the trailer she’d grown up in with her mother. Now that she finally had it, her life felt complete. Layla tossed the rest of her candy into the garbage, no longer hungry. Her home was a haven, and no swaggering hotshot was going to mess with that. She’d make sure of it.
* * *
Later that evening, Layla gently arranged her newest picture frame on the console table in her living room. The small frame was embellished with green and blue Swarovski crystals, and it held a black-and-white stock image of a couple and their dog on the beach. She took the image out, then stood back to admire her collection. Several crystal-studded frames of varying sizes sat on the table like sparkling gems in a jewelry box. One of these days, Layla was going to actually get around to putting photographs in them, but for now it made her happy just to see the bright, colorful arrangement.
“Mom, I’m fine,” she said into her phone as she padded barefoot into the kitchen. “I did eat lunch, and I have dinner in the oven right now.” Well, technically it was a frozen Hot Pocket in the microwave, but her mom didn’t need to know that.
“You know I worry about you in that house by yourself.” Her mother’s voice sounded stern through the phone, and Layla could just imagine her mom shaking her head, gray wisps of hair floating around her heart-shaped face. “A beautiful young woman your age, it’s not right for you to be so alone. I saw a documentary the other day about a serial killer who breaks into houses and hides under bed skirts, waiting for victims to fall asleep. Did you know they’re more common than you think?”
“Bed skirts?” Layla poured herself a glass of merlot.
“No, serial killers,” her mother said in exasperation. “I just want you to be safe. Think about getting a dog at the pet store, maybe. Or better yet—get a nice strong man.”
“Last I checked, they don’t sell nice strong men at Pet Palace.”
Her mom let out a huff, then continued to fuss in her sweet, endearing, completely nosy way. She’d always been a worrier, but Layla never faulted her for it. Her mom had struggled all her life to make ends meet for them. Now she insisted on living in a small apartment on the other side of the island. It wasn’t great, but it was near the diner where she worked, so Layla gladly helped pay the rent. It had been one of Layla’s greatest joys to be able to provide a place for her mother and get them out of the trailer park. The two of them had come a long way, and even though life hadn’t been easy for them, they’d always remained close.
“I have a state-of-the art security system in place here,” Layla assured her. “I also took that self-defense class, remember? I don’t need a dog or a man, Mom. I’m totally fine.”
After promising to consider the benefits of owning a pit bull or a German shepherd, Layla finally said good-bye, just as the doorbell rang.
She opened the door to find Kat standing on the welcome mat with a pet carrier in one hand and a big bag of cat supplies in the other. “Greetings, foster mama!”
“Oh, that’s right.” Layla blinked down at the fluffy gray face staring out at her through the bars of the pet carrier. The kitten was a few months old, and it looked part alien, with its huge headlamp eyes and its narrow chin. What was she thinking, agreeing to this? She knew nothing about cats. “Well, come in.”
“Try to contain your excitement.” Kat pushed through the door. “It’s just for a couple of weeks until we find him a permanent home. Is that the hall bathroom? You two get acquainted while I set up the litter box. Food dishes go in the kitchen, okay?”
Layla nodded as Kat chatted away, zipping through the house. Within just a few minutes, all the kitten supplies were put away, and the gray tabby was now sniffing around the living room. He crouched low, glancing around for a few moments, then crawled behind the curtains.
“This is Toonces. He’s a little shy,” Kat said. “But once he gets used to the place, he’ll be a total love bug. He’s definitely a lap cat, so you’re in luck.”
Layla scrunched up her face. “What kind of a name is Toonces?”
“Smitty named him.” Kat’s tone of voice implied the reason should be sufficient, and maybe it was. Layla had only met Smitty at the Daisy Meadows Pet Rescue a few times. She was the office manager. An older woman with a sour expression and teased and sprayed hair out to there. She smoked like a chimney and still wore acid-wash jeans—not because they were retro-cool now, but because she’d been the front-runner in fashion back in her heyday, and she’d never changed.
“She’s a die-hard vintage Saturday Night Live fan,” Kat added. “I think she named him after one of the old skits. Something about a cat who drove cars? I didn’t ask too many questions.”
“Are you sure he’ll be okay here all day while I’m at work?” Layla asked.
“Totally fine. Just give him some extra snuggles when you get home.”
Kat set a basket of small toys on the living room floor, coaxing the kitten from behind the curtains with a feather on a stick.
He took a few tentative steps toward it, then pounced. After a few moments, Kat grinned and stood, slapping her hands together. “He feels comfortable enough to play now, so my work here is done.”
“Stay and have a glass of wine,” Layla offered.
“Can’t. I promised Emma and Juliette I’d meet them for movie night. Hey, you want to come?” Kat usually met up with her cousins once a week, and even though Layla had only met the Holloway women a few times, she liked them a lot. They were just like Kat—open and easygoing and a little on the quirky side. “We’re going to watch Elf to get in the mood for Christmas.”
“I wish I could, but I’m wiped. It’s been a long day.”
“Next time.” Kat made her way toward the front door. “I’ll see you on Saturday night for the holiday party. It’s cocktail attire, so be sure to dress sexy.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I think Dr. Harrington’s going to be there.”
“Not my type,” Layla said firmly, taking a gulp of wine.
Kat tipped her head back and laughed. No, she guffawed. Like, on purpose. Layla could see all her molars.
“Honey, I know you aren’t interested in getting tangled up in anything, but that man is anyone’s type.” Kat waved her hand in front of Layla’s face.
Layla frowned and jerked her chin back. “What are you doing?”
“Just checking to see if you’ve gone blind. I mean, did you see him? He’s gorgeous. He’s charming. And he genuinely loves helping animals. It’s like his superpower. What’s not to like?”
Layla pressed her lips into a hard line. “Let’s just say I knew him back in high school. I wasn’t impressed with him then, and I’m not impressed now.”
“You used to know him?” Kat’s leaf-green eyes sparkled with interest. “Spill, girlfriend!”
Layla shook her head. “It was a long time ago. I’ll tell you some other time over drinks. Lots and lots of drinks.”
“Huh.” Kat narrowed her eyes. “Gotta run, but I’m going to hold you to that. See you Saturday!” With a final wave, she was out the door and gone.
Layla wandered back into the living room and sat cross-legged near the kitten, who was now stalking a cloth ball with a bell inside it. He really was adorable.
“Toonces, huh?” Layla jingled the cloth ball and rolled it on the carpet. “Sorry about the name.”
Toonces swiveled his ear, as if he couldn’t care less. Then he pounced on the ball.
She snapped a quick picture and texted it to her mom. Behold, the fierce attack cat. He’ll be staying with me for two weeks,
so you can rest easy now. I’m safe.
A few moments later her mother responded. What a cutie! Not as fierce as a rottweiler or a big strong man, though.
Layla sighed. Good night, Mom.
Night, hun. Don’t forget to check under the bed skirt before you go to sleep.
Chapter Three
Sebastian entered the community center on Saturday night with a sharp sense of nostalgia. The big gym had been decked out for the holiday with sparkling Christmas trees and giant snowflakes hanging from the ceiling. Onstage there was a local band singing holiday tunes, and crowds of people were grouped in lively conversation or milling near food tables and a bar along the far wall. The air was rich with the scents of fresh baked gingerbread and sweet rum punch, which made him smile. The locals in this town always did know how to party.
Ever since he’d moved back to Pine Cove Island last month, he’d been surrounded by the familiar people and places from his childhood. It was both heartwarming and bittersweet. The island was a glowing reminder of the easy, carefree days of his youth, filled with backyard barbecues and baseball games and fishing trips on his parents’ boat. But it was also a reminder of the harder times that came later, when everything began to fall apart. Still, he didn’t regret moving back to open his veterinary practice here. He still loved the town and all its quirky people, and the longer he stayed, the more convinced he was that he’d made the right decision—even if it had meant giving up a piece of his soul to do it.
He adjusted the sleeve on his designer suit, shoving away the painful memories he left back in San Francisco. What’s done was done, and he was here now. Nothing to do but embrace his new life and find joy in what he loved most.
“Seb!” a booming voice called through the crowd. “Is it really you?”
Sebastian turned to see one of his old high school buddies barreling toward him with a glass of whiskey. Keith Miller had been a linebacker for the Pine Cove High football team, and they used to call him The Hammer because he was always ready and willing to beat someone down. Now, with his thinning blond hair, florid complexion, and beer belly, he looked less like an imposing linebacker and more like a middle-aged armchair quarterback.
“Keith.” Sebastian reached out to shake his hand. “It’s been a long time.”
“No kidding, man!” Keith grabbed Sebastian’s hand and yanked him closer, thumping him hard on the back. Sebastian winced. Keith might be older and pudgy, but he still had the hammer fists.
“I heard you moved back here,” Keith said. “Veterinarian, huh? What about your family’s wine business?”
Sebastian kept his expression carefully neutral. “I chose a different path.”
“But, dude. All that wine.” Keith stared dreamily off into the distance, as if he were imagining a swim through a Willy Wonka factory–sized river of booze. He finally snapped out of it and held up his glass in salute. “Veterinarian. That’s good, I guess. Dammit, man, time is your friend. You look great. What’d you do, make a deal with the devil?” Keith snickered and took a swig of his drink.
Sebastian gave him a wry smile. “Something like that.” Sometimes, those long hours he spent running or working out at the gym did feel like hell, but he did it anyway. Years ago, he’d discovered that hard exercise helped clear his head and stay focused. It had been the one thing he could control when the rest of his life careened out of control, and the habit had stuck.
“Who’d have thought,” Keith said. “Seb Harrington. Back in Pine Cove. We should get together with the boys and talk about the glory days.”
Sebastian gave a noncommittal reply, because as far as he could remember, those days weren’t all that glorious. There was nothing he cared to recall about that time in his life . . . well, almost nothing. Only one person had remained in his thoughts over the years, and even though the memory came with heartache, it still glowed like a bright star on a moonless night.
Keith lifted his drink, downed it, then glared into his empty glass.
Sebastian could tell from Keith’s bleary eyes that The Hammer was well and truly hammered.
“I’m going to go for a refill,” Keith said with a hiccup. “My wife’s gonna be pissed because I’m designated driver tonight, but what the hell, ammirite?” He cracked himself up. “Catch you later, man.”
Sebastian watched him weave through the crowd, pretty sure they wouldn’t be catching up later. Most of his old high school buddies had been big partiers, and Sebastian ran with that crowd because it was the easiest form of escapism. He’d done and said stupid things, all in the name of fun, when really he’d been miserable inside. It wasn’t until he’d moved away that he realized how much time he’d wasted pretending to be the carefree party boy everyone thought he was.
For the next hour, he wandered through the crowd, stopping once in a while to engage with old acquaintances and meet new people. It came as no surprise that he was actually enjoying himself, even the ramblings of old Mrs. Mooney, who’d latched onto his arm to discuss the many ailments of her dog, Bonbon. Sebastian was reminded again of why he’d chosen to move back. There was a deep-rooted familiarity with the people, and the small-town atmosphere stirred his spirit and soothed his soul.
When he stepped outside for some fresh air a few minutes later, he spotted a person in the garden gazebo. Suddenly, his soul stirred in a different way. Sebastian’s mouth kicked into a smile and he started toward her, unable to help himself.
Layla Gentry sat on the steps of the gazebo sipping a drink. Hundreds of white twinkle lights were woven through the slats along the roof, lending an almost ethereal glow to the place. She was wearing a knockout black dress that showcased her lethally gorgeous legs, made even hotter by the strappy stilettos and her dainty, red-painted toenails. Damn. Sebastian swallowed hard. She had definitely grown up. The Layla he remembered had been a skinny girl in scuffed-up tennis shoes and hand-me-down clothes that always seemed too big for her. But as she tipped her face up to the sky and closed her eyes, he came to an abrupt stop.
There she was. With the same innocent, radiant glow on her face that made her look like an angel. God, she was beautiful, but that came as no surprise. Layla had always been stunning, radiating an inner peace that used to make Sebastian crazy. In her circumstances growing up, she should’ve been bitter and jaded, but she wasn’t. He never could understand how she always managed to look so . . . hopeful.
He closed the distance between them, standing in front of her. Her skin looked smooth and impossibly soft in the moonlight. “Good evening.”
Layla’s eyes flew open and she startled, splashing her drink. “Oh!” Something fell off her lap and landed in the grass. The former peace in her expression melted away, replaced by a mask of calm, cool indifference. She was good at that mask. She didn’t used to be. He remembered how her face used to be like an open book, with every emotion easy to read. If it weren’t for the rapid rise and fall of her chest showing her agitation, Sebastian might’ve been fooled.
She set her drink on the step beside her. “You startled me.”
“I didn’t mean to.” He bent to retrieve her cell phone in the grass and handed it to her.
She silently took it, watching him from beneath thick, dark lashes. She reminded him of a startled deer, preparing to bolt.
He took a seat on the end of the step, leaning against the opposite railing. “Why aren’t you inside enjoying the party?”
Layla’s back straightened. “I just needed to check messages, and it was too noisy in there. I thought I’d come out here for some peace and quiet.” From the look on her face, it was clear he’d disturbed her peace.
Sebastian’s mouth curved at one corner. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Do you want me to leave?”
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Not at all. I was just about to go back inside, anyway.”
He watched as she nervously brushed invisible lint off her skirt. She was clearly unsettled, so he fought for something to say to put her at ease
. “I hear you’re a top real estate agent now. A force to be reckoned with, they say.”
She looked uncomfortable with the praise. “Who says that?”
“My sources,” he said mysteriously.
“Spying on me, Dr. Harrington?”
“Absolutely not,” he said with mock severity. “Do I look like a spy?”
She glanced sideways at him. Sebastian could feel her gaze traveling over him, and it made his pulse pick up. “Wears all black. Lurks in the shadows. Sneaks up on people in the dark.” She shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”
He pressed a finger to his ear, pretending to speak into a hidden mic. “She’s onto me. Yeah, our cover’s blown. Can you send a cleanup crew to the garden at the community center?”
Layla pursed her lips, a soft blush visible on her cheeks. He could tell she was trying not to smile. An unexpected warmth bloomed inside him.
“Someone I met inside sang your praises,” Sebastian admitted. “A guy named Albert from your office.”
“Ah.” Layla lifted her drink and took another sip. “Good old Albert. He’s my boss.”
“He seems very . . . enthusiastic,” Sebastian offered. He remembered Albert’s booming voice and hearty laughter. The man was very happy to talk about his business, and the people who worked there.
“Albert eats, sleeps, and breathes Pine Cove Real Estate,” Layla explained with a reluctant smile. “He’s always looking for ways to expand the business through advertising, and he expects everyone on the team to be fully invested in the community.” She shook her head and sighed. “Last year’s mandatory holiday activity was a disaster. He made us all go Christmas caroling door-to-door.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
She shot him a look. “Dressed as reindeer.”
Sebastian raised a brow. “I see.”
“Be glad you didn’t see. It started raining that night, and our antlers were made of papier-mâché. Within minutes, they were crumpling on our heads, and our faces were covered in craft paint. We looked like extras from the set of The Walking Dead.”
A Snowy Little Christmas Page 11