“Alex, I know you aren’t rolling in dough. You’ll never get an opportunity to make this kind of money again.”
Well, wasn’t that sweet. Nothing like a friendly reminder that you weren’t made of money. Alex was by no means hurting for cash either; he’d done pretty well for himself. He sent his mother money, and he had a roommate by choice. He had saved a decent amount, and his checking account was nicely padded because he worked damn hard for his money the past ten years and hardly ever spent it. But this asshole was right, he’d never be rich. Did he need to be a millionaire? Hell no, but shit.
Alex swiped a hand down his face and pulled his thoughts into focus. “When do you need to know?”
“They want an answer before Christmas, but the sooner the better.”
Alex nodded. “I need some time to think, Ted. This is … a lot to take in.”
“I understand, but you and I both know you’d be crazy not to take make a deal with them. Anyway, I need you to sign some paperwork before you go, just saying that you’ve been informed of your inheritance.” Ted handed Alex the papers and a pen. He read them over carefully, making sure it matched exactly what Ted had said. It appeared to, and just seeing his name on the official paper, spelling out that he had in fact inherited the property was bizarre. He finally signed his name, and Ted stuffed the papers into his briefcase. “Oh yes, one more thing. I was also to give you this, just some paperwork in regards to the property you should probably hang on to and a few extra keys.”
Alex took the items but didn’t say another word while Ted put on his expensive wool coat. The man made Alex uncomfortable, which was a rare occurrence for him. He was used to feeling sure of himself in any situation, but right now he felt like he was out of his depth and it made him angry.
After they exited the office and Ted had said good-bye to Beverly, Alex followed his grandmother into the warm, cozy kitchen he’d spent so many Tuesdays as a child and collapsed into the high-backed wooden chair at the breakfast table. Funny enough, this was another Tuesday. Apparently the old adage “The more things change the more they stay the same” rang true.
He allowed her to feed him some muffins and finally drank a cup of coffee. She asked him about his fishing job, and they chatted about the town. None of it succeeded in taking his mind off all the thoughts swirling through his head. He was so disoriented, Beverly managed to convince him to join her for dinner the following Friday, which was ridiculous because an hour ago his plan was to head back home today. But before he could stop himself he had agreed.
And apparently he wasn’t finished doing stupid things, because after he left his grandmother’s house he found himself driving right to 100 Main, intent on talking to the one person he promised he’d stay away from.
**
Brooke glanced over her calendar for the week and grinned. She had officially booked another ornament class full. She couldn’t believe it, but she was thrilled. And hopeful. The future was suddenly full of promise and possibility. The boost in sales had her mind flooding with ideas for projects, marketing strategies, even new product lists. It was amazing how stress squelched your creative spirit, but that’s exactly what the worry and sleepless nights had done. Right now, though, she was on cloud nine.
The shop smelled like Christmas and looked beautifully festive stuffed to the brim with products while Nat King Cole crooned over the speakers about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. It wasn’t quite noon, and she’d already had four hundred dollars in sales. On a Tuesday. The day couldn’t get any better as far as Brooke was concerned.
The front door creaked open, the bell she’d just installed sounding with a cheery jingle, and Brooke welcomed the cool breeze that followed. She was sweaty from moving furniture to showcase some things that one of her favorite crafters had dropped off yesterday afternoon.
“Good morning,” she called out automatically, finishing up her calendar and turning around. “Can I hel—” her voice caught in her throat. The man standing in front of her counter had a sheepish grin on his face. So much for her perfect day.
“That was a warm greeting, but now … you don’t look so excited to see me.”
“Really? I can’t imagine why not.” She took a deep breath and decided things were going too well for her right now to let this jerk rattle her. It had been five days since he’d stood her up. She’s assumed he was long gone, back to wherever the hell he came from. She was over it; time to be a big girl. “How can I help you?”
“So that’s how it is, huh? Okay, can’t say I blame you.” He said with a raised eyebrow. He picked up a necklace from the wrought-iron stand on the counter. “You design everything in here?”
“Of course not. I sell on consignment for small production artists and local crafters. But I make the line of jewelry scattered around on these stands.”
“I’m impressed.” He gently hooked the necklace back on its peg. “What’s the name mean?” He nodded to the wall behind her.
One of her consigners had made a large Sweet Opal Studio sign out of old galvanized tin spray-painted and distressed in a red barn color. It was surrounded by various vintage mirrors. She loved how it turned out and made it the centerpiece of her store right there behind the counter above her own personal design space.
“I named the shop after my grandmother, Opal Abbott. It was initially just the name of my jewelry line, but I decided to use it as the shop’s name too.” Brooke shrugged and fiddled with the necklace around her neck. “She was a very talented seamstress, the most amazing grandmother, and I inherited her collection of fabrics, some from as far back as the forties and fifties. I use them to make most of my jewelry. And I know you’re not really interested in this, so why the hell are you here, Alex?”
“You’re wrong. I am interested in you. Very interested. Plus, it seems like we have something in common.”
“You have a strange way of showing someone you’re interested. And the only thing we have in common is that we both know you’re a jerk, so please go.”
“You’re right, I am a jerk. I shouldn’t have stood you up. I did call and let you know, if you remember.”
“Oh my god, seriously? You called an hour late.”
“Okay, damn.” He winced and scratched at his jaw, which was still covered with hair.
He looked like a surly Paul Bunyan, Brooke couldn’t help but think. A sexy one, darn him. “You’re right, I’m an asshole, and I regret it, okay?”
Two women entered the shop, and Brooke went around the counter to greet them. If Alex was smart, he’d take this opportunity to scram. He didn’t. He lingered, walking slowly around the store; his eyes seemed to touch everything. And Brooke couldn’t help but notice that her two customers seemed as interested in him as they were the items for sale.
She rolled her eyes. It was no surprise. Alex was hot. Very hot. Even with a face covered in scruff and what appeared to be bed head, he was still appealing. She wondered what he was dressed up for. His tall frame was clothed in khakis and a fitted button-up that left no doubt he was layered with muscle. Even under the civilized clothing there was something about him. Something that made a woman sit up and pay attention. Whatever that magical thing was, it made it impossible for Brooke to look away while he circled her shop like a predator.
This time when he caught her watching him he gave her a wicked smile. Her breath caught and her body went warm. She abruptly turned away and asked the closest woman if she needed any help. Luckily she had some questions about the classes, which Brooke was happy to answer, and for a few moments she almost forgot Alex was in the store. Almost. After wrapping up the ladies’ purchases and encouraging them to grab a snack at the bakery down the street, she was left alone with him again.
“What the hell does a person buy a rusty old bucket for?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “You know what? I’m not answering that question. If you don’t get it, you’re in the wrong store.”
“I want to get it, though. So tell
me.”
“Look under the tree.”
He turned. Several old containers, including some rusty buckets, held various items. They looked pretty, rustic, fun. “If you have an eye for things, you can make anything look good. People like taking utilitarian objects, especially ones that are old and have an interesting patina, and incorporating them in their home. Sometimes they don’t know how to do it, so my displays help them visualize it.”
“Patina, huh? Is that a fancy word for rust?”
She glared at him.
“Okay, okay. I get it, it makes sense. And I have to admit, it’s comfortable in here. Homey. It smells good, and the old things look nice.”
“I like old things. New and shiny is okay I guess, but just because something is old or damaged doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful or loved.”
He stared at her through hooded lids for so long she felt like squirming. Or looking away. Instead she spoke. “Are you here for a reason?”
Alex just continued to stare. “Go out with me tomorrow night. Dinner. We’ll leave Preston, go into the city.”
“Do you really think I’m going to give you another chance?” She ignored the pounding in her chest and the voice in her head that was saying yes, yes, yes. To keep her shaky hands busy, she picked a few ornaments out of one of the rusty buckets and began to hang them on the tree. He needed to take the hint: she was a very busy girl.
He didn’t. Instead he followed her lead and grabbed a few ornaments of his own before carefully hooking one onto a high branch.
“Stop helping me. I’m very annoyed with you.”
“What if I say please?” He was now holding an ornament she’d made. It was similar to her jewelry in that there was some old fabric held between glass, and soldered around the edges. This particular design featured a tiny print of mistletoe on a red gingham background. Red and green beads and a charm hung from a jump ring soldered onto the bottom. It was very cute if she did say so herself. He fingered the hand-stamped metal charm. It said “kiss me.”
He grinned. “Did you make this?”
Suddenly she felt a little ridiculous. “Yes, I did.”
“Nice. You really should have it hanging in a doorway or something. Isn’t that what mistletoe is for?”
“Do you have a point?”
“Will you go out with a paying customer?”
She scoffed. “No.”
“I wanna buy this.”
“No way. You’re not buying that. You’re not buying anything.” She snatched the ornament out of his hand and hung it carefully on a tree branch. “Stop patronizing me and go.”
Brooke turned and walked around the counter. She needed a physical barrier between them. Her heart was pounding and she felt lightheaded. She really wanted to go out with Alex, but she was terrified.
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Brooke. I’m only in town until Saturday. It can just be two friends. Dinner. No big deal. Your brother would kill me if it was more than that. In fact he’ll probably kill me no matter what.”
She jerked her head around. “What does that mean?”
Alex looked panicked, like he regretted his words. “Nothing … just … I assume he’s still really protective of his little sister, right?”
She didn’t answer right away. Had Ryan spoken to him? Surely not. He wouldn’t do that, would he? “I’m twenty-eight. I don’t need Ryan’s permission or his help.”
“No, you don’t. That’s obvious.” Alex glanced around the shop. “Can I pick you up at six tomorrow?” They stared at each other for a second.
“I have a class. How about seven.” She took a deep breath, worry and elation warring in the pit of her stomach. “But if you are so much as thirty seconds late, I will never forgive you. I also plan to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”
He grinned. “Deal.”
Without another word Alex left, passing three nearly slack-jawed women in the doorway. They giggled after the door closed behind them, whispering and glancing out the window. Brooke put a hand over her mouth to cover her stupid grin. She was going out with that hottie. Tomorrow. She shook her head and greeted the ladies before something on the corner of the big wooden counter caught her eye. It was a twenty dollar bill. What the hell?
She rushed over to the tree to look for the ornament Alex had touched and admired earlier. She sucked in a breath. The mistletoe ornament was gone.
FIVE
“Okay, now you can use the smaller pliers to squeeze the jump ring closed. Careful not to do it too hard because it might bend or break.” Brooke held up her demo ornament for the sixteen women to see. They had been a surprisingly skilled group, and she was grateful because she was more than a little distracted. Everyone was oohing and ahhing over their neighbor’s piece of tree art.
“Okay, does anybody need help finishing up?”
One woman raised her hand, and Brooke rushed over as the front door to the shop opened. She was technically closed, but she didn’t lock the door because it would violate fire code with customers still in the building.
“Good lord, who is that?” Brooke heard one of the women whisper. From the tone of her voice, Brooke instantly knew who had entered the shop.
“Holy shit, is that Alex Coleman? He’s grown up nicely,” another voice whispered. “Not really a surprise since he was always adorable.”
Brooke stood up and locked eyes with the very sexy man she’d grown up with. She’d just seen him not twenty-four hours ago, but his gorgeousness was still shocking. He’d shaved, but not all the way, so there was just a hint of stubble. But enough was gone that the lines of his face were more visible. He wore dark jeans that managed to hang on his hip in just the right way, a dark belt, and a white button-up shirt under his coat. She shut her mouth and made her way toward him. He smirked, obviously noticing her discomfort.
“You’re a little early, aren’t you?” she whispered.
“Yes, but I couldn’t take even the slightest chance that you’d never forgive me, could I? Plus I was sort of curious about this class.” He picked up a loose hair and tucked it behind her ear. She froze.
“Stop it.” She swatted his hand away, ignoring his smile. “It’s six twenty. I still have to get ready.”
His gaze ran down her body, taking in her jeans, T-shirt and work apron. It was the sturdy construction type of apron you picked up from a hardware store, handy for holding all of her tools while she taught or worked.
“This is kind of hot, Brooke.” He grabbed a corner of her apron.
“Oh my god, will you stop.” She turned around just in time to see sixteen sets of eyes immediately turn and try to appear busy. “Go sit down and be quiet until I’m finished.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She then realized her mistake. He went and sat in an empty chair in the corner of the class area, so now she had to wrap things up with him as part of her audience. How embarrassing.
“Okay, ladies, is everybody happy with their piece?” She was pleased with the enthusiastic response. She needed to get her thoughts together, but her mouth had suddenly gone dry. “Well, make sure you get a little bag here to put it in, and we have about ten minutes if anyone would like to purchase any supplies to make some of these at home. It’s super easy and would make great gifts for Christmas. Okay, well, thank you. I’ll just be … around … if you have … uh … any questions.”
Brooke blew out a breath and made her way to the restroom. She needed a quick minute, and she was pretty sure she had glue on her face. Yep, there it was right on her cheek. Her hair was a riot pulled up on her head in a messy ponytail and she had barely put any makeup on today. Why was he so early? She picked the now-dried glue off her cheek, washed her hands, and made her way back out front.
She wasn’t surprised to find a couple of ladies speaking with Alex. She was, however, annoyed when she realized one of them was the newly divorced Eve Wells, who, if she recalled, was one of young Alex’s many paramours. Ugh! Eve’s boobs were squeezed into her sw
eater so tightly, it looked like one might pop. And it just might, because Brooke was pretty sure Eve wasn’t sporting the same breasts she’d had in high school.
Funny how Brooke had enjoyed Eve’s quick grin and easy jokes during the soldering class, but now the sound of her laugh made her skin crawl. Surely Alex wasn’t truly flirting with her while he was inside Brooke’s shop—to pick her up for a date no less? He may be a player, but that would just be really low.
Ignoring them, Brooke went up front to ring in the purchases. She was thrilled with the way this evening’s class had gone. At forty bucks a student she was already pleased, but it also appeared that nearly everyone was making some sort of additional purchase. She prayed that this kind of business continued through December. She really felt like if she could get the word out, the rest would be history.
She finished with another customer and then felt a warm wall lean up against her back. Her first instinct was to tense, but then his gentle hand landed on her hip beneath her apron.
“It’s just me,” He whispered into her ear. “Mind if I wait upstairs? I have to get away from your customers. They’re scaring me.”
She couldn’t help the smile that bloomed, and she was tempted to relax into him. Instead she turned her head to the side and whispered. “Okay, I’ll be up soon.”
His fingers squeezed her, and then he walked away toward the back, not stopping to speak to anyone. The entire transaction felt way too intimate and public. And the whole I’ll be up soon was just so … coupleish. What was she thinking? She got back to work. Thanking people as they left, it was finally Eve’s turn to check out. Brooke took her soldering iron, flux, and glass slides. “I’m glad you’re going to try this some more at home, Eve. You did a really great job. Please feel free to come in if you need some help.”
“I’ll do that. I want to give necklaces for Christmas gifts. My mom would love a charm made with a picture of the grandbabies.”
Blame It on the Mistletoe Page 6