One Sweet Christmas (Sweeter in the City Book 4)

by Olivia Miles

  Trust him. She had. For three years she had trusted him enough to believe that their future was locked in place. That they’d move to Chicago. He’d go to law school. She’d try her hand at a café. And then he had to go and change plans. Change everything.

  Sighing, she set her bag of ingredients to the ground, beside the others. Slowly, she moved toward him, her boots crunching on the frozen snow until she was close enough to reach out to take the wreath. She let out a little “whoop” as he bent and hoisted her at the knees, feeling the strength in his arms as he brought her high enough to easily reach the hook.

  She fastened the wreath quickly, and made sure it was straight. “Okay, you can put me down now.”

  Only she wasn’t so sure she wanted him to, not just yet. The realization that it might be the last time they ever touched, and the knowledge of how long it had been since they had, made her heart feel heavy. But all sadness was replaced with something much more lethal as he released the tension in his arms and guided her carefully back to the ground, skimming the length of her thighs in the process.

  Desire pulsed through her, sending waves of heat through her body until she forgot they were still standing outside in the snow.

  “Better?” she asked, when she finally found her voice.

  His eyes were so clear in the cold winter light, and he blinked, as if just getting his bearing. He gave a casual glance at the roofline of the store. “We make a pretty good team.”

  She pulled in a breath, bit back a retort, and reached for the bags of supplies. They had made a good team. Once.

  Pete picked up the heaviest of her bags, the one containing the slow cooker she planned to use to keep her hot chocolate warm, and led her inside the shop, which was cozy and warm and full of ornaments and candles and stockings.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of adding a little sign.” He pointed to a whiteboard next to the long, wooden counter.

  “Sweet Hailey’s Hot Chocolate,” she read aloud, wondering if she should point out the name of her establishment was actually the Corner Beanery, until she saw him tap the tag line underneath. She smiled a little easier. “Exclusively from Corner Beanery. Thanks,” she said brightly.

  He shrugged. “I figure a little advertisement never hurts.”

  Hailey didn’t dare tell him just how much it helped. “Did you do the artwork yourself?” She couldn’t deny the laughter that rumbled in her stomach as she met his eye.

  “Now don’t go judging my artwork.”

  “Actually, I was going to say that you did a fine job.” And he had. She’d always noticed how clean his little doodles were when they’d sat beside each other in a boring sociology lecture. “It’s just…hard to picture you with a set of markers in your hands, and dancing snowmen in your mind.”

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I admit, the idea was not exactly original, or even entirely mine. I may have been inspired by that coffee house across the street from you. But it was that or elves.”

  Hailey thought she might prefer the elves, actually, until Pete reached behind the counter and revealed his effort. Strange, oversized ears and club-like hands weren’t exactly the image she had when it came to her hot chocolate. She laughed. “You made the right choice, then. And thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, and their eyes met for just long enough for her to see the hint of warmth in them, the crinkle at the corners.

  She cleared her throat. “Well, I should probably get to work so I can get back to the shop. My assistant will be back tomorrow, and then I’ll have more time to…”

  To what? Stare into the cloudy blue eyes, or linger on the lips and remember what it used to feel like to kiss them?

  “Hold on for a minute,” Pete said. “Now I know you said you didn’t have room in your apartment for a tree, but I couldn’t help noticing there was plenty of room in your shop.”

  He pulled the same small tree he’d selected the other day from beside the hot chocolate stand, and Hailey couldn’t help but notice he’d taken the liberty of adding a bright red bow at the top.

  It was a cute little tree, nothing like the eight-foot varieties she usually selected to fill her bay window. It would probably hold only a single strand of lights, maybe a dozen of her smaller ornaments.

  And serve as a constant reminder of just how this Christmas was turning out for her.

  “A tree and a business gig,” she said, lightening the mood. “What can I do to repay you?”

  She’d expected him to say nothing, to ease her way off memory lane and get things back on professional footing, but he surprised her by shrugging and saying, “How about a tour of the city?”

  She blinked. He was proposing more time with her, when every minute she spent with him was already an exercise in resilience. “A tour?”

  “Show me what makes it so special. Why it was so important to you.”

  Oh. That. So he was making a point. Drudging up old hurts. She pressed her lips together. If it was a tour he wanted, then fine. She’d show him exactly what he had been missing by running off to Timber Valley. “Tonight work?”

  “Tonight works. Enjoy your tree.” He winked, and she reached out to grab the top branch, her hand skimming his. Her skin tingled at the touch, and she snatched it back, quickly popping the lid on a container of chocolate chips.

  “I, uh…should get to work.”

  “Of course.” His voice was husky, but she didn’t look up to meet his eye. She waited until he was gone to let out of a heavy sigh and give herself a long, internal talking to. With her head down, she made a large batch of hot chocolate, adjusted the setting to keep it warm but not too hot as to burn the chocolate, and, muttering under her breath, yanked the tree by its top branch.

  From the corner of her eye she saw Pete helping a customer as she dragged the oversized bush behind her, cursing the darn thing all the way across the street.

  She had half a mind to stick it in the kitchen, or even in the back alley, somewhere where she wouldn’t have to look at it every day and be reminded of the person who had given it to her.

  Or the other gift he’d tried to give her once.

  Chapter Six

  Pete stomped the snow off his boots and took a big breath before reaching for the handle of Hailey’s café door. It was unlocked, even though the sign in the window read Closed, and sure enough there wasn’t a customer to be found.

  He grinned at the sight of his tree in the window draped with a string of flickering lights and a few ornaments. Given her reaction to it, he’d half wondered if she’d stick it in the back room or out in the alley. He was just about to turn when he saw the little sign she’d propped near its base. “Compliments of Cameron’s Tree Lot.”

  He grinned to himself. So the ice was thawing. An eye for eye, in the friendliest of ways. He’d take it.

  “Please tell me I haven’t killed it yet.”

  Hailey’s voice was laced with amusement as Pete turned to face her, all thought of the tree vanishing when he took in her red scoop-neck sweater and tight jeans tucked into knee-high boots.

  He had a sudden desire to change plans. To offer a night in instead. There was a time when he liked nothing more than a quiet evening in his student apartment, Hailey all to himself. Her sitting on the floor at his side, sharing a pizza, shoulder to shoulder, laughing into his ear, her hair tickling his cheek—

  He stopped himself. No good would come from thinking like that. Now, like then, they were different people. She was settled here, loving her city lifestyle, and nothing she could show him tonight would change his mind about giving up the farm. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. Now, like then, he was bound. By family. By duty. By guilt.

  And for that reason, he probably should never have suggested this city tour. He should go back to the trailer, crunch some numbers, get on the other lots, see where things stood. He frowned.

  “Oh no.” Hailey’s expression dropped. “I’ve killed it already, haven’t I
? You know I’ve never been good with plants. I should stick with artificial.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he shot back. “Those damn plastic trees are the reason things are as bad as they are.”

  He gave an inward curse as the amusement vanished from her face. He’d said more than he’d meant to.

  She looked at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean? Is the farm in trouble?”

  Trouble. More like jeopardy.

  He recovered with a smooth smile. “Only if everyone starts hearing about the benefits of artificial.” He held a finger to his lips. “Shh…”

  She laughed, and he was glad the moment had passed. He didn’t want to taint the evening with negative thoughts or regret. He wanted to enjoy the moment. He might not get another one. The thought saddened him.

  “So, where are you taking me?” He perked up, letting his gaze linger on her lips, painted a cherry red that fit the season, that brought out the creaminess of her complexion and the grey of her eyes.

  She gave him a knowing smile and flicked off the light switch. The overhead lighting fell dark, and the tree twinkled in the window.

  “Magical, isn’t it?” he said, motioning to the tree.

  Hailey gave a dismissive shrug. “I suppose.”

  “Hey, where’s the Christmas spirit?” he bantered, but the look in her eyes told him what he already knew. What he feared, perhaps. That she still cared. Even now, after all this time, she still felt the same sense of loss he did around this time of year.

  And that…well, that was too much to think about right now. Because like it or not, nothing had changed. Not his family duty. Not his responsibility to the farm. Not his feelings for the girl standing right before him.

  “You seem to still have it,” she remarked.

  He supposed a half of him did. Hell, it was the only thing keeping him going half the time, wanting the business to thrive. “It’s why I do what I do.”

  It was the wrong thing to say, perhaps. A reminder of the choice he’d made. He glanced over at her, noticing the way her jaw had tensed and her eyes had gone a little flat. “Well, no use standing around.”

  No use indeed. One foot in front of the other, he told himself. It was the only way.

  ***

  Hailey didn’t know why she was bothering with this idea of a city tour, or why she was choosing to make the most of all the festive events Chicago had to show this time of year. Maybe it was to defend her choice, to show him why she needed to be here, in this city, filled by its energy, or maybe it was because she wanted him to feel it too, the excitement, the lights. Even the romance.

  She shook her head to herself as Pete collected their mulled wines from one of the many temporary stands that had been set up for Lincoln Park Zoo’s annual light festival. It was the first stop on their itinerary for the evening, and if she were smart, she’d cut things short and end it quickly.

  She eagerly took the cup from his hand when he handed it to her, careful not to make eye contact as she brought it to her lips. It tasted like cloves and spice and warm, sweet berries. “Christmas in a cup,” she said a little nervously. She didn’t know what to talk about with him, or how to keep the conversation going. The realization that they didn’t just fall into step anymore was a depressing confirmation that tonight had been a mistake.

  She glanced up at him, every nerve ending standing on high alert at the intensity in his deep-set gaze. “Here’s where I disagree. There’s only one thing that’s Christmas in a cup, and that’s your hot chocolate.”

  Hailey couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. “If only more people felt the way you do.”

  He turned to her sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Hailey sighed heavily as she thrust her free hand in her pocket. The temperature had dropped since they’d walked over to the zoo, and even the steaming drink and knee-length down parka was doing little to warm her all the way through. She began walking toward the exit, deciding she had time to plan whether or not they bothered with that carriage ride through the snow-covered Gold Coast, where the lights and decorations on Michigan Avenue would be especially magical.

  It was time to face it: Despite her efforts, Christmas hadn’t been magical in more than eight years. Why should this year be any different?

  “Things have been a bit slow at the café,” she said, not daring to meet his eye. “I’m sure you noticed the shop across the street from me. It opened a couple of months ago. Guess you could say I’m not used to the competition.”

  She tried to keep her tone light, but it was no use. Her eyes started to prickle, and not from the wind that was blowing steadily off Lake Michigan.

  Pete gave a low whistle under his breath. “That would definitely be tough to compete with. But your shop is different. Surely you can’t pull in the same customers?”

  Hailey shrugged. “Coffee is coffee.”

  “Why not serve something different then?”

  Hailey stopped walking and looked up at him quizzically. “Stop serving coffee? Need I remind you that I run a coffeehouse. A café. Even my store name—”

  “So change it.” Pete looked unfazed, and Hailey felt her temper stir.

  He didn’t get it. Even now, after all these years, he couldn’t understand how much this business meant to her. She had recipes to share, and she’d never have been satisfied working for someone else. She could have gone home and worked for her father. Instead, she wanted to build something from the ground up, nourish it, and watch it grow.

  “It’s not that simple,” she said, her frustration mounting. She took another sip of her mulled wine, but she barely tasted it this time. Change the name of her café! As if! She’d spent weeks coming up with the perfect logo, paid a small fortune for that custom signage, too. To change it now would be like renaming a child…Maybe. Not that she would know, seeing as she’d chosen the café over the whole husband and kids thing…

  She drained the last of the wine. Right. She hadn’t sacrificed all that she had just to call it quits now. On the café. On its name. On any of it. She’d find a way. So help her…she would.

  “Hey.” Pete’s voice was smooth, husky, and sinfully deep. He nudged her playfully with his elbow, and she kept her chin lifted, her eyes trained on the snowy path ahead, but damn it, a smile pulled on her mouth. “There’s a smile. Hey.” His voice was more serious this time, and he stopped walking, stared at her until she was forced to turn and face him.

  She sighed heavily as she looked up, but all the breath stopped in her lungs when she saw the softness in his gaze. He set a hand on her shoulder. She’d forgotten the weight of it. Missed it, even though she hadn’t thought she could anymore.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you. Honestly.”

  She broke his stare, focused on the tips of her leather boots instead. A silly, vain choice for this evening. She’d have been so much toastier in her fleece-lined snow boots instead. But instead she’d had to try to impress him. Or make him regret the choice he’d made.

  But the only one with any regrets, it seemed now, was her.

  “I guess a part of me wondered if you’d be happy to see that things weren’t as wonderful for me as I had hoped they would be.”

  When she dared to look up at him again, there was a hurt in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since that terrible night. A night just like this, with lights twinkling and carols playing and everyone merry and bright. Except them.

  “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Hailey. I was just disappointed you didn’t think you could be with me.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” she insisted, alarmed that this was what he thought, what he’d taken away from that night. “You knew what I wanted. A business of my own, a real shot at success. I couldn’t have had that in Timber Valley, Wisconsin. You left me with an impossible decision. What choice did I have?”

  He stared at her for a long time until he finally shook his head. “Let’s not ruin our night talking about the past. Before lon
g, you’ll be back behind the counter, serving your hot chocolate, and I’ll be on a tree farm, dreaming of its taste. Dreaming of a lot of things actually.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his gaze, and she turned sharply toward the road, where a horse-drawn carriage was stopped just outside the tall, iron gate. “Hurry! Let’s get it before someone else does!”

  She grabbed his hand, laughing as they slipped and slid along the path toward the road, running until her lungs burned and she was panting for breath.

  “I didn’t think we’d make it,” she admitted, once they were settled on the bench and the horses had started to trot.

  “Since when are you one to ever give up on something?”

  She swallowed hard, looking up into his eyes, knowing the exact moment she’d given up on something. And someone.

  She should have fought for them. Tried for something. Or reconsidered her path. Instead, she’d been stubborn.

  “Can I ask you a question?” When he nodded, she struggled to find the courage to continue. “Did you…ever think of me?”

  His jaw pulsed. “Every damn day.”

  Every day. She wasn’t sure which was worse: thinking that all this time he hadn’t thought of her or knowing that he had. That he’d cared. “But why didn’t you ever reach out?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you think that would have made things any easier? You’d made your decision. I’d made mine. Seemed easier at the time to just…move on.” He looked out onto the road in front of them, turning pensive.

  She nodded, understanding. “I suppose that makes sense.” She gave a sad smile. “I suppose a part of me just thought…”

  He turned to look at her sharply. “It doesn’t mean I stopped loving you that night.”

  But when had he stopped? Or did he still…love her?

  She shivered, and he draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her heart began to pound as she looked up into his eyes just as his gaze dropped to her mouth, and she inhaled sharply, wondering if he’d kiss her, if she wanted him to, if she’d ever be able to stop again, if she let him.