Winter Heat

by Kennedy Fox

  And then I saw a flash of pink in the crowd.

  Time stopped. My heart, my brain, and even my muscles went numb. Then I sprung into action.

  Clutching my phone, I weaved through the festivalgoers, mumbling apologies, keeping my gaze firmly on my prize. She was moving quickly, but I was determined.

  I just had to see if it was her. If it wasn’t, I would give up and move on.

  Somehow.

  I surged forward and tapped the woman’s shoulder. She looked back at me as hope briefly bloomed in my chest—

  And it wasn’t her. Not even close. Her face was all wrong. Her eyes were too close together, her lips were too thin. She smiled at me as I backed away, feeling like the most colossal idiot who had ever lived.

  Until I turned my head and glimpsed the curvy woman standing in front of the café across the street.

  Her hair wasn’t pink. Wasn’t even that light. At this distance, I could’ve mistaken her features. But I knew it was her.

  Proving yet again I had no business in such an upstanding town, I dashed across the street outside the crosswalk. She didn’t notice me as I jogged up to her, but that gave me time to study her face.

  It was definitely her, and she was even more beautiful than I remembered. Even if now her hair was brown.

  I unwound her scarf from around my neck, and her gaze shot to mine. “You lost this.” I lifted the scarf. “And I’ll return it, if you’ll spend the rest of your life with me.”

  Chapter Three

  ELLIE

  The air was brisk, and snow snapped in the air. It also swirled around the man I hadn’t been able to get out of my mind for the last day.

  Making out under the mistletoe wasn’t exactly in my life plan. Then again, having three jobs kind of killed all ideas of romance. So much so that the kiss seemed like a fuzzy flash in a dream. The kind you wake from with a gasp and can’t quite shake.

  Because surely that didn’t happen in real life to a woman like me.

  It happened in those Hallmark movies I secretly binge-watched in July and November through December. I couldn’t help it. Those happy hours were a soft paintbrush over my usual lonely Christmases. Add in the Polaroids I took of styles for my look book, and watching those movies was almost like homework in between the moments of longing.

  But it wasn’t real.

  And neither was getting kissed by a stranger.

  Even if this stranger had stunning gray eyes that matched the perpetually overcast sky of my hometown. Intelligence sparked there and made all sorts of crazy thoughts flutter in my brain like the flakes that spun around on the shelf of snow globes that lined my bedroom bookcase.

  And because I wanted to step closer to him, I folded my arms over my bulging look book journal against my chest. He was holding my favorite cashmere scarf. The one I’d bought myself for graduation. Okay, so cosmetology school wasn’t exactly like a college graduation, but I had a brand spanking new certificate that said I could cut hair in the state of New York. For me, that was a big thing. It had warranted a rare splurge of spending on myself.

  His long, slightly dirty fingers were holding out the scarf to me like a gift. Well, it wasn’t quite dirt on them, but they sure weren’t clean.

  I glanced down at those fingers and quickly tucked the urge to snarl at him that he was ruining the fine fabric under the polite smile I pasted on my face. “Forever shouldn’t be offered up so easily for a scrap of cashmere.”

  He brought the crimson scarf up to his whiskered chin and slid it down his neck. “It’s a lovely scrap of cashmere, and I wish I could say it still smells like you.” He inhaled and something warm and foreign unfurled in my belly. “Unfortunately, that’s not the case. But I remember how you tasted. And that’s why vanilla is my new favorite flavor until the end of time.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Then go to The Rusty Spoon and have yourself a vanilla milkshake. I highly recommend it.”

  A flash of teeth gleamed from his full lips. He had just enough scruff to make my palms itch to touch, and a head of thick hair that the hairdresser flourishing inside of me wanted to get a hold of. But it was the lonely woman inside of me who was the real troublemaker. She wanted to step closer and see if that kiss was just a fluke.

  But she was me, and that wasn’t happening.

  “Then come with me.”

  “What?” I blinked out of the haze that seemed to descend when I was with him. “No. I have to work.”

  “Then after work.”

  I shook myself out of the stupor. “I don’t know you. I don’t go out with strangers.”

  He held out his hand. “Callum MacGregor.”

  Of course he had a hot name. Hell, it was a Hallmark movie name. Not a real guy. Not a George or Gary or Greg. Nope, he was a Callum.

  I glanced down at his hand, but I didn’t take it. I only hugged my notebook tighter. “Look, I’m flattered. And that kiss was…”

  “Amazing. Stupendous. Life-altering.”

  I frowned. “It was a kiss.”

  He stepped forward. “You felt it. I know you did. You pulled me closer.” His attention dropped to my mouth, and he reached for me.

  I stepped back, my spine going rigid. “It was stupid.”

  His eyebrows snapped down. “No it wasn’t. It was the best thing that has happened to me in a damn long time.”

  “Then you need some new hobbies.”

  “I have plenty of hobbies, thanks. More than I can keep up with. What I don’t have is your name.”

  I took another step back and slammed into the handle of the door to Brewed Awakening. Flustered, I dropped my notebook, and he swooped down to pick it up before the snow soaked into the pages.

  “Hey. Give that back.”

  He took my arm and gently moved me aside as a trio of girls came out with their coffees cupped in their hands as they talked animatedly about some guy from a TV show. I smiled at them awkwardly. They were regulars in the café.

  The shorter one of the three glanced at me and then at my hot mistake, tilting her head with interest. “Who’s your friend, Ellie?”

  I resisted the urge to growl at Katie. Now he knew my name.

  “Ellie, is it? It suits you.” His long, dusty fingers clutched my idea book easily. As if they were born for such things. Long fingers that had cupped my face so tenderly, though they’d been much cleaner then. Hygiene was important, dammit.

  I reached for my notebook again, and he held it just out of reach. “He’s no one. Stranger danger.”

  Katie’s demeanor changed in a second. All three girls advanced on him. “Is he bothering you?”

  Callum held up his other hand. “No trouble. Just trying to get to know the woman I’m going marry.”

  Katie’s sky blue eyes went shiny. “Marry?” She curled her fingers around her to-go cup and brought it up for a quick sip, foam teasing her top lip. “Like love at first sight?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. Keep the book and my favorite freaking scarf for all I care.” I rushed around the girls and grabbed the door handle. “I’m going to be late, and Macy will kill me.”

  “Excuse me, ladies,” Callum said with that charming drip of honey voice before he followed me inside. “C’mon, I’m harmless. There was an instant connection between us. You felt it too, or you wouldn’t be so pissed at me.”

  I shrugged out of my coat. Before I could get it all the way down my long-sleeved uniform shirt, he was there to help. I huffed out an annoyed breath even as his snow-tinged cedar scent slid around me. The same scent that had chased me into dreams last night. My skin prickled where his calloused fingers grazed my wrist.

  He draped my coat over his arm, and I did growl this time. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “I’ll hold onto it until your shift is over.” He tucked my look book into the messenger bag over his shoulder. “It’ll be safe with me. Same as you, Ellie. I promise.”

  “That’s what murderers say.”

  His eyebrow spiked. �
�You know a few murderers?”

  “No, but I watch plenty of true crime shows. Ted Bundy was super charming, wasn’t he?”

  “Not really. If you looked closer, his eyes were dead. Any woman with half a bit of awareness would see the same. You are far too wary to get tricked like that.”

  Tell that to my last boyfriend who got me to pay for half of the things he called essentials that he was short on cash for. Like his cell phone service and that nifty iPad I got him for Christmas last year.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Or you’re charming enough to tell stories like that to make a woman feel safe.”

  His hand darted out to circle my wrist. His gray eyes went dark in reaction. “I feel your pulse skittering. You feel this thing between us too.”

  “Could just be fear.”

  “Not of me. I’m harmless, unlike my triplet brothers. They’re hell on earth.” He pulled on the lapel of his sweater. “Would a serial killer wear a cardigan?”

  Probably not and no one should look so good in that stupid brown sweater, but he did. “Maybe a smart one would. You seem like a smart guy. Maybe too smart for your own good.”

  “That’s what my mom tells me.” His long lashes swept down as he focused on my mouth again. “And I will say I’m smart enough not to let you get away again.” Then his gaze crashed into mine once more. “Not without examining just what’s between us.”

  “You’re not from Crescent Cove or you’d be running for the hills, buddy. There’s no dating in the Cove. There’s only forever and so many babies you could rename us Bunny Cove.”

  There. That should send him running. Most men who were smart and under thirty-ish escaped while they still could.

  I couldn’t quite tell his age. There were lovely crinkles at the corners of his eyes, but that could just mean he liked to be outside.

  Dammit, I needed to stop staring at him.

  He swallowed tightly, and the flare of fear that he’d vanish just like I thought was quickly banked.

  Or maybe I was afraid he’d stay. I couldn’t decide which one was scarier.

  He slid his fingers down my hand to tangle with my fingers. “That just makes me want to hear more.”

  “No, you don’t. You want to turn right around and head back to wherever you come from.”

  “Wrong.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m actually trapped here until my car is done.”

  “I—”

  “Yo, Vanilla, I’m pretty sure my schedule still has your name on it.”

  My shoulders rose to my ears at Macy Gideon’s shout. She was my boss for a little while longer. However, she’d used my order nickname so I wasn’t in real trouble.

  I shook him free and pointed at him. “If you leave with my notebook, I’ll find you and chop off those dirty fingers.”

  He laughed and looked down at his hand. “Sorry, I was sketching in the park.”

  Of course he was an artist. If there was a guy who was ill-equipped to be an adult, I was going to be attracted to him. Not this time. I was going to be strong and not fall for someone who had no future stamped on his forehead.

  I turned to head into the back of the café where a line of people were waiting to be served. I hurried to the cash register and quickly tapped in my login, and then grabbed an apron from the drawer and tugged it over my head.

  “Where do you need me?”

  Macy’s short hair was in frazzled spikes, telling me it had been a day already. She had three espresso pods brewing in the big purple beast that dominated the side counter. “Need a new batch of coffee in the carafes.”

  “Got it.” I turned to the long counter and pulled off the magnetic timers and reset them for another three hours. Habit and auto pilot took over, even while Callum’s intrusive personality vied for space in my too busy brain. I hooked the long handles over my arm and gathered all four thermoses up and then headed to the kitchen to use the industrial-sized brewer.

  I’d been working at the café since Macy opened it a few years ago. She paid well, and I could always pick up a shift when I wanted extra cash. Now she had a much larger staff, but I was one of the originals, so I always got first pick of the bonus shifts. I was also the one everyone called because I could never say no to adding more money to my savings account.

  But all that was going to change.

  My cosmetology certificate was finally going to let me move on the plans I’d been making for the last four years. My bulging notebook and Pinterest board would finally have an outlet. I didn’t have to only be the girl who washed hair and swept up clippings just to soak up real life experience at To Dye For, the new salon that had opened this year. I officially had my own booth rental as of Monday.

  I would be hanging up my apron Monday after the morning shift and trading it for a smock—a really cute black one with pink Christmas trees on it—and a closetful of clothes I’d slowly been gathering to show off my true style. Not the jeans and array of café and pizza T-shirts that I wore most of the time.

  The real me.

  Would he be interested in that girl?

  Ugh. No. I wasn’t interested in starting some fling with Mr. Charming.

  I touched my lips. They still buzzed at the thought of him. Life was changing for the better, and there was no room for a hot artist with clever lips in my current plans.

  Even if I almost wished there was.

  Chapter Four

  ELLIE

  Six hours later, my artist shadow had moved from the main café to the the well-worn leather couch in the reading nook. He’d been busily scratching in his sketchbook, his gaze tracking my movements off and on. Just enough off that I didn’t call Sheriff Brooks. Stalking wasn’t sexy.

  Callum, however, didn’t give off that creepy vibe. He was just intense.

  Along with being charming, he could make small talk with anyone and everyone. It was an enviable trait, but it still pissed me off. Especially since every female seemed to fall under his spell.

  Including Mrs. Gunderson who could talk a body into the ground and then shovel after them to talk some more. But he didn’t look bothered in the least.

  I shot a glance over my shoulder at the chirpy laugh that came out of the older woman. Dear God, was she flirting with him?

  Callum caught me looking and gave me a half smile that made every blood cell in my system go into overdrive before he refocused that obscene attention on Judy. There was no annoyance in his eyes, just a quiet friendliness that seemed to draw everyone into his sphere.

  A few murmurs of gossip had fluttered through the air the first hour. That he was trouble and had been sketching in the park—what kind of man was he?

  By the end of the lunch rush, he had a line of people waiting for portraits.

  He didn’t charge, so Macy didn’t give him any trouble as long as he kept buying food and drinks. I’d also spotted him stuffing twenties into the tip jar at the register every time he got a coffee or tea. Was he trying to buy me off?

  What kind of woman did he think I was?

  Annoyed, I marched over to pick up the dishes scattered around him. A cookie plate with a few crumbs was stacked on his panini plate, and there was now a collection of mugs. I went around the back of the couch he’d made his mini office and literally couldn’t go another step.

  On his pad was a perfect rendering of the book nook area, including the haphazard mix of Halloween and Christmas that was Macy’s aesthetic. From the perspective to the tiny details it was like a photograph, only far more clever. He’d added a few faces on the pink pumpkins stacked everywhere. Some were sweet, some reminded me of The Nightmare Before Christmas, and still others had a flair that was completely his own.

  In the center of the portrait was Macy’s step-daughter, Dani, who was in her usual spot doing homework. Instead of her face in a book, he’d created a rendering of her climbing the bookcase in the midst of decorating the top shelf. She had a sweetly mischievous look on her face and a lock of hair falling forward from her sharp pixie c
ut that matched Macy’s.

  “That’s amazing.”

  I wanted to saw off my tongue. Giving him compliments would not move him along in any way.

  Mrs. Gunderson shifted and looked over the top of the couch at me. “Isn’t he amazing? I’ve commissioned him to do my cats for Christmas.”

  I pressed my lips together against a laugh. When it was sufficiently buried, I stepped around the end table and gathered his plates. “Is that right?”

  Callum grinned. “They sound like rapscallions.”

  Judy’s laughter filled the room. “Oh, you are so correct. I can’t wait. Are you sure that forty dollars is enough? It seems like your talent is worth so much more.”

  He patted Judy’s hand. “Well, I’m here for a bit longer it seems.” The look he gave me could have melted my panties. “It keeps my skills sharp.”

  “If they get any sharper, you’ll need to open up your own shop,” I muttered.

  “Would you like that? Me here all the time?” He curled his long fingers around the handle of his mug and brought it to his lips. “Seeing you everyday would definitely make work far more palatable. I even got my own drink from Macy.”

  “What?” I blinked and my hand stilled over the stack of mugs. “She gave you one?”

  He grinned. “Is that something special? I had a feeling it was kind of her thing.”

  “Yeah, but only if she likes you. And it usually takes at least five or six visits before she gives someone their own drink.”

  “I didn’t have a choice in the drink. She just put it in front of me.”

  “That’s how it works.”

  “Hmm.” He took another sip. “Now she calls me Bourbon.”

  “Wow.” Her bourbon-aged espresso beans weren’t pulled out very often. Then again, he had been stuffing big bills into the tip jar. Macy was often a slave to the almighty dollar. Charging him extra for her special blend plus all those tips… Well, how could she resist?