One Christmas Eve

by Shannon Stacey

  “Not bad. Had to do some errands today, so I thought I’d see what kind of pies Rissa baked this morning.”

  Preston had learned on his first visit that the owner’s name was Clarissa, but the locals all called her Rissa for some reason. He’d also learned she baked exceptionally good pies.

  He nodded, trying to figure out how to frame a question about Joe’s ability to mandate what could and couldn’t be displayed in the bookstore’s window.

  “Everything going okay?” Joe asked. “You look like a man with something heavy on your mind.”

  “Everything’s good,” he replied, but he must have hesitated because the older man gave him a questioning look.

  “You sure?”

  “Interesting neighbors.” When Joe just looked at him, Preston felt the need to add “The bookstore.”

  “I can’t really tell if that’s a good interesting or a bad interesting.”

  “Not bad, exactly. But the window displays can be a little scandalous for next door to an estate planner.”

  Joe chuckled. “A little fun before facing your mortality isn’t a bad thing.”

  “Maybe you haven’t seen the current display.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen it. Hell, three different people texted it to me on my way over here.” He chuckled again. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess you’d already spoken to the girls about the Halloween window?”

  “I spoke to Zoe about it yesterday, yes. When I was picking up the key.” Preston winced. “It...didn’t go well.”

  “The more you push at Zoe, the harder she’s going to push back. Maybe something to keep in mind.”

  “You know her well, then?” He wasn’t sure if he was asking because he hoped for tips on navigating her personality, or because he wanted to know more about her.

  “They’re my granddaughters. She and Carly, I mean. Zoe’s my older son’s daughter and Carly’s my younger son’s.”

  “Oh.” Preston shut his mouth for a few seconds, not wanting to say anything stupid. He’d searched a long time for an office space that suited his needs. He also hoped Joe hadn’t looked over Preston’s shoulder before he sat down and seen him checking out the Cedar Street Books Instagram account. Oh, and staring at his granddaughter sucking on a candy stick.

  Joe smiled at the server who delivered a coffee without even having to ask and listened to the pie list before ordering the blueberry with vanilla ice cream on top. “I guess when I told you they had the key, I didn’t give their last names. I should have told you they’re my granddaughters.”

  “She didn’t mention that,” he said, once he was sure he could say it in a totally normal tone of voice.

  Joe laughed. “No, she wouldn’t. Neither of those girls have ever liked being told what to do, but Zoe even more so since her divorce.”

  Divorce. So she was single, then. Not that it mattered, of course, since she wasn’t his type.

  But the heat that had flooded his body as he looked at her photo forced him to admit he might be wrong about that. And it wasn’t even the red lips wrapped around the candy, so much. It was the sparkle in her eye. The challenge. He had no doubt the true theme of the window had nothing to do with National Candy Day and everything to do with pushing his buttons, and it was working. But under the sexy and the sassy, he could see the humor and he didn’t totally hate this game they seemed to be playing.

  Chapter Three

  Two days later, Zoe and Carly stood on the sidewalk outside their bookstore and looked over the window display to ensure it looked as good from the street as they’d planned.

  Maybe it wasn’t fun and sexy, but Zoe thought it was her best display yet, by far.

  “This is your best one yet,” Carly said, echoing her thoughts so exactly, she side-eyed her. Having a psychic cousin would be so bad since Zoe used to tell her everything, but now it was only almost everything.

  She had no intention of mentioning she’d woken up that morning sweaty thanks to a very steamy dream about a certain uptight nerd she didn’t care to talk about.

  “Make sure you take a picture,” Carly added, giving her a pointed look.

  Yes, she would take a picture of the new display to email to the town hall in order to prove compliance with the very stern letter they’d received yesterday. Hand-delivered even, by one of the selectmen. And that letter had been the follow-up to the email they received about two hours after she finished the National Candy Day window.

  Everybody at town hall was pissed, which annoyed the hell out of Carly and their grandfather. And the worst part was, the only reaction she’d gotten from Preston had been the look on his face when he walked by the window. She’d been hoping for more from him.

  Basically, she needed him to keep acting like a total dick until her subconscious stopped lusting after him.

  After a few tries, she managed to get a shot of the window that wasn’t just the glass reflecting Cedar Street back at the camera. She and Carly had borrowed and scanned photos of the town’s veterans all the way back to the Civil War, and they even had a photo of the painted portrait of the town’s Revolutionary War hero, which hung in the library. Around each photo was a display of books relevant to that veteran’s time of service, right up through the young men and women from town that were currently serving.

  “We did a good job,” she said, and she meant it. Carly had put a lot of time into helping her plan the look and assemble the materials. Generally Zoe did more of the creative stuff and the actual window decorations, while Carly handled the nitpicky computer stuff, but mostly they tried to do everything together. That had been the dream, after all.

  Once they were back inside, Carly went on a hunt for a book a customer had come in looking for. She hadn’t found it on the shelf, but the computer said they had a copy, so there was a good chance somebody had picked it up, wandered around with it, and then put it down in the wrong place. If she didn’t find it, they’d order the customer a copy, but they also wanted to figure out where the book went.

  While Carly did that, Zoe sat at the computer and sent the photo—along with the conciliatory letter they’d drafted together—to the town to prove they’d complied with the demand to remove the National Candy Day display.

  Then, after choosing a flattering filter and drafting an inviting and respectful caption, she posted the photo to the shop’s social media accounts. That was another thing they handled together, but Zoe was better at the photos and fun engagement, while Carly handled actual customer interaction and fielded customer service questions.

  Her thumb was moving, ready to close out the Instagram app, when the first notification came.

  PrestonWheeler liked your post.

  “He did not just do that.”

  “Who didn’t do what?” Carly walked back to the desk, the missing book in her hand.

  “Our new neighbor just liked my Instagram photo of the new window display.” She set the phone down and crossed her arms, fuming. “How passive aggressive is that?”

  “Or maybe he just likes the display because it’s pretty freaking awesome.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “He wants me to know he approves of the new window.”

  “You’re like a rabid honey badger right now,” Carly said firmly. “Either you’re projecting Ben onto this guy, which isn’t fair, or you want to have sex with him and you’re trying to convince yourself he’s an asshole so you’ll stop wanting to.”

  “Why would I want to have sex with a guy who gets his knickers twisted over a ceramic witch in fishnet stockings? I mean, he should probably start wearing a pearl necklace with his tie so he has something to clutch when he walks by our store.”

  Carly laughed at her. “Maybe you could loosen him up a little.”

  Zoe felt the faint and lingering zing of shame she’d put a lot of emotional work into trying not to feel anymore. “Trus
t me, if I leaned in on that guy, he’d make that face and probably fall over trying to back away from me.”

  “Or maybe he’s not like Ben at all and was just thrown off by the display. It’s not like this town being conservative and determined to keep that old historical charm is a secret. If you take out the cars and turn the lights off, we could pass for 1850 around here.”

  “Maybe you’re right—about me overreacting to his overreaction. Not about me wanting to have sex with him.” She couldn’t be held accountable for what her subconscious self did in her dreams, right?

  “Oh, I think I’m right about all of that.”

  When Carly laughed again, Zoe rolled her eyes and decided to change the subject. “Are you ready for your trip next week?”

  “It’s not much of a trip. Just two days and one night in Rhode Island. And Noah and Jim will be in meetings for much of both days.”

  “But you and Emily can explore, and you’ll all be together for dinner.”

  “It’ll be fun, yeah. And thanks for agreeing to cover for me.”

  The bell over the door rang as customers entered, and Carly waved to them. The two older ladies loved books and loved talking about books even more, so Zoe knew what they’d be doing for the next hour.

  But before they joined the customers, Carly leaned close enough to Zoe so she could whisper. “The important fact you seem to be missing is that Mr. Preston Wheeler must be practically stalking your Instagram feed to have been the first like.”

  Zoe’s cheeks flushed with heat. “It’s the bookstore’s Instagram feed, and it was probably just a coincidence he happened to be policing our level of propriety at the moment I posted.”

  “Sure. I totally believe that.”

  She clearly didn’t, and the thought stuck in Zoe’s head for the rest of the day. Was he actually watching their Instagram feed? And, if so, why?

  And why was she so disappointed when she finally caved to the urge to check his feed and found his was a locked private account?

  * * *

  Three hours was a long time to sit with a couple who had substantial shared assets but zero shared opinions on how those assets should be handled in the event something happened to them. They were not only the most contentious married couple he’d ever met with, but they’d fought even more than some of the couples he’d helped revise established plans for when they went through divorces.

  He was exhausted and he’d missed lunch, but at least he didn’t have any more appointments today. After pulling up their file and adding the extensive notes from today’s meeting, he closed the laptop and took out his phone for a few minutes of relaxing distraction.

  After scanning his family Instagram pictures, he hovered his thumb over the search icon for a long moment. In the week since he’d last spoken to Zoe, he’d looked at the Cedar Street Books feed every day—including hitting the heart icon on their Veterans Day display out of habit, and then hoping she wouldn’t notice—but he didn’t follow the account. Each day he told himself to leave it alone and each day he lost the battle of willpower.

  Today was no different, and when he clicked through to see the most current photo, he actually laughed out loud.

  The caption announced a shipment of new books had arrived, and Zoe was standing next to a desk, with her hand on a stack of books. She was wearing a soft blue sweater that hugged her curves, but it was the book she was holding up as she smiled at the camera that made him laugh. The Do-It-Yourself Guide to Estate Planning.

  She’d been thinking about him.

  Two days ago, she’d posted a photo of a book in her lap that had a beach chair and the ocean on the cover, and in the background were her flip-flop clad feet. Once he’d come to terms with finding bright fuchsia toenails attractive, which was another thing he hadn’t known about himself, he’d read the caption. Flip-flops might be entirely unsuitable for November, but I’m not finished with beach reads season!

  He’d caught the “entirely unsuitable,” which meant she’d noticed he’d liked her window display photo. And he was probably supposed to be annoyed by the DIY estate-planning book, since it was obviously another deliberate shot at him. It wasn’t the kind of book you highlighted when you had a pile of popular fiction under your other hand. And even though she’d undoubtedly ordered it after their last meeting went south, the photo she’d posted an hour ago let him know he was still in her thoughts.

  Sure, those thoughts probably weren’t very flattering, but since she spent an unusual and inconvenient amount of time in his thoughts, it seemed only fair.

  Maybe it was time for them to cross paths again.

  He should meet the other owner of the bookstore, he told himself. Carly was his neighbor, too, and he should introduce himself properly. And if he and Zoe should exchange some words that were neither hostile nor veiled Instagram captions, that would be a bonus.

  After closing up the office, he gave himself a few seconds to rethink his decision, but his skin was practically tingling in anticipation of seeing her. Nerves, maybe. But he didn’t think so. Though he could make no logical sense of it, he was attracted to Zoe Randall and he wanted more than Instagram pictures. He wanted to hear her voice.

  And he did. Her laughter was the first thing he heard when he stepped into the bookstore, and when he realized she was with customers, he was tempted to back out through the door and go home.

  But the bell over his head caught her attention, and when she turned and their eyes met, she smiled.

  No, he shouldn’t have come here, but now there was no way he was leaving. Not until he’d had a chance to speak to her.

  It didn’t take long. She excused herself from the woman and little girl she’d been talking to and walked to the front of the store to greet him. “Good afternoon. What is it I can help you with today?”

  Her smile was tight and there was definitely an edge to her tone, but her livelihood depended on the store being an inviting place to visit, so she wouldn’t make a scene and throw him out. Probably. “I thought I might look around a bit, if you don’t mind. And I was hoping to meet your partner, actually. I had lunch with Joe the other day and I understand she’s your cousin?”

  Maybe it was his imagination, but it seemed like her body relaxed and her expression warmed slightly. “Carly took today and tomorrow off. Noah—her husband—and his boss had to go to Rhode Island for business and they decided to take their wives with them.”

  “I guess I’ll meet her another time, then.” When the silence stretched toward awkward territory, he knew he should start looking at books, but he couldn’t force himself to walk away from her yet. “You could have mentioned our landlord is your grandfather.”

  Something about her smile must have sucked all the air out of the shop because he had a hard time breathing when she turned that full-wattage grin his direction. “What fun would that have been?”

  “That’s not playing fair.”

  She didn’t even pretend to look sorry. “Hey, you’re the legal type who decided to jump into a game without knowing the players.”

  Lawyer, actually. Not a legal type. But he didn’t correct her because he didn’t want this fun, saucy Zoe to go away. “I’m learning the rules as I go along.”

  “Oh Zoe,” the woman she’d been talking to when he entered called. “Do you have that book they made a movie about? That lady who runs off to Europe or something?”

  “I’ll be back,” she said to Preston. “Feel free to browse.”

  He took that as an invitation to not go anywhere, so he picked a shelf and started perusing titles. They had a wide variety of well-organized books and it wasn’t long before he was totally immersed in the shopping.

  Eventually, he heard the bell over the door ring and Zoe made her way back to him. “Finding anything?”

  “You have a great selection. I’ll probably pass on The Do-It-Yourself Guide t
o Estate Planning, though.”

  A pink flush brightened the tops of her cheeks. “Saw that, did you?”

  “I did. You do a really great job at social media.”

  She looked startled by the compliment. “Thank you. I love the store so much that it doesn’t really feel like work.”

  “Recommended by Zoe, huh?” He stepped closer to the standalone bookshelf he’d reached, tilting his head in an effort to read the spines. “And what kind of books do you usually recommend?”

  “Not your kind of books.”

  “You have no idea what kind of books I like to read.”

  “I’m going to take a wild guess and say nonfiction. Biographies. Productivity guides. History books that promise to offer a fresh take but never do.”

  “Surprisingly judgmental for a bookstore owner.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “I also like murder mysteries.”

  “You also like? So I wasn’t wrong.”

  “Still judgmental, though.”

  “That’s really funny, coming from you. We do have a pretty decent self-help section if you have any annoying personality traits you’d like to work on.” She winked to take the bite out of the words. “And the books I recommend are very steamy, if you must know.”

  “Really?” He actually did want to know a lot more about that. Zoe and steamy were words he liked in a sentence together.

  “Carly didn’t think putting up a sign that said the books with the really hot sex in them would go over well, so we went with Recommended by Zoe instead. They’re all really great books I would recommend anyway, but our regular patrons know they’ll also be very, very hot.”

  His brain seemed to be short-circuiting, since he couldn’t really come up with a response to that. Especially when she was looking him in the eye, obviously waiting for his reaction and expecting it to be disapproving.

  “Maybe I should buy one so I can get a better idea of what it is you...recommend.”

  The warmth flooded her cheeks again—holy hell, she was gorgeous when she was all flushed like that—and he was trying to figure out what came next because the flirting had escalated on him and he wasn’t sure what to do next when the bell over the door rang again.