A Christmas Affair: A Seaside Cove Romance (Seaside Cove Romance Series Book 1)

by Davies, Cora

  A Christmas Affair: A Seaside Cove Romance

  By Cora Davies

  Copyright © 2015 by Cora Davies

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For my husband who always believes in me, even when I don't believe in myself.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  “No space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused.”

  Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

  Chapter One

  "Deck the halls with balls of holly!" Rachel joyously sang at the top of her lungs.

  "I don't know if those are the right words," Molly laughed, holding out another string of white lights to Rachel.

  If Molly Smith was honest, her best friend and employee was quite a bit off key. She didn’t say anything to Rachel about her singing voice though. How could she when she was helping Molly decorate her tiny store for Christmas? Off the clock, too.

  "They feel like the right words Mols." Rachel smiled at her and she reached down from the stool to take the strand. "I think this one will make the lights connect all the way around the room now."

  Molly stepped back and looked around the tiny two room shop which made up Seaside Gifts from the Shore. She believed there was always a light happy air in her building, created by the many handmade items sold in the store crafted by men and women from the town. In an area where most of the lower income families were comprised of fishermen and housewives, a lot of crafters were happy to bring in extra money by selling their creations. Selling through Molly's store was more time efficient for them than setting up booths by the shoreline during tourist season.

  Everywhere she looked there were seashell magnets, necklaces, and picture frames. Paintings and photographs by local artists. Handwoven baskets, hand bound journals, and pottery in unique designs. At this time of year there was even a table set up by the local crochet artist Dawn full of delicate hats, cowls, and mittens. The wealthier locals went wild over her use of soft hand spun yarns.

  Most seaside tourist towns found the winter months to be a quiet season with low profits, but in Seaside Cove it meant tourist season was about to have its second wind. Main Street was transformed into Dickens Village every evening in December, all the way until Christmas Eve. This was the fourth year since the Dickens Village started, and Molly's second year on the Dickens Council. She felt the responsibility to ensure her shop was one of the first decorated the day after Thanksgiving.

  Molly breathed in the scents of peppermint, cider, and Christmas trees floating through the air. She inspected the stockings hung over the artificial chimney, each with a different employee name or friend on it. She turned every ornament hanging on the tree so its price tag was easy to spot.

  Everything was going to be perfect.

  Everything except for one thing.

  "Molly, are you going to talk to him?" Rachel's face was pressed against the glass of the front window, and she was twisting a long blond lock of hair around her finger. At almost six-foot-tall, Rachel had to stoop to look out the window.

  "I don't know who you’re talking about." Molly busied herself exchanging the regular pens in a Christmas kitten mug with Christmas themed pens.

  "Jack Frost," Rachel said sarcastically and cupped her hands around her eyes to see outside better.

  "I thought Jack Frost liked winter?" Molly felt herself blush. Jack Millings. As far as she could tell, he was Mr. Anti-Christmas these days.

  Rachel waved Molly over. "Did you see what he put in the window? Didn't you pass out the Dickens fliers to everyone?"

  "Of course I did!" As much as Molly wanted to ignore Jack, she knew she could not put him off forever. She sidled up next to Rachel to look outside. Instead of seeing across the street to Jack's though, she only saw her own blue eyes and auburn hair in the reflection of the window. "I can't see."

  Molly reached over and flicked off the lights in the main room gasping at what she saw. A large growing sign proclaimed "Merry Beer-Mas" surrounded by what looked like beer bottles hanging off Christmas lights. "I know he got the flier, and it said Dickens and other Christmas decorations, not beer lights! I'm going over there right now."

  Molly unlocked and pulled the door open with a jerk and hopped back as frosty air blasted into the room. Molly immediately slammed the door shut. "Maybe tomorrow."

  "Oh come on, just go get it over with.” Rachel grabbed a few warm items from the crochet table and thrusted them at Molly.

  "Those are for sale." Molly rubbed her arms. "We can't just run outside in them."

  "He's violating the Main Street Council code." Rachel threw her hands in the air making Molly laugh. Rachel was behaving exactly how Molly wanted to.

  "Well, the start of Dickens Village isn't even for a few days. Maybe he is just messing with us?"

  "You, messing with you," Rachel laughed. "I'm pretty sure he's looking for a reason to get you over there."

  "I doubt it." Molly felt her face flush again. "Jack has barely said a word to me since high school."

  "He's barely said a word to you, or you've barely said a word to him? I wish you would just tell me what happened at prom." Rachel pressed the palms of her hands together to beg. The two women did not run in the same group in high school, and when they became friends a few years ago, Molly never told Rachel why she and Jack had broken up.

  "Water under the bridge, it's been ten years," Molly lied. Molly knew Jack was still mad at her for her mistake all those years ago. There was no reason he would ever try and talk to her again.

  "Then you should be able to move past it. I've seen the way he looks at you." Rachel poked Molly's arm. "He tries to get me to talk about you when I'm at the bar, he thinks he's being slick, but he's not. He still has the hots for you."

  "One, I seriously doubt that. And two, I’m in a relationship with Jeremy. So even if Jack was interested, it really doesn't matter."

  "Oh damn Jeremy. I don't know why you still call that a relationship. He doesn't even live here anymore!" Rachel looked away from her friend to flick a piece of evergreen off her sweater. "Besides, he's kind of becoming an asshole."

  "It's a long distance thing. Many long distance relationships work." Molly ignored the part about Jeremy becoming an asshole. She had been noticing a chan
ge in him too since his last promotion, but it was just because of all the stress at work.

  "No they don't, name one couple we know who made a long distance relationship work," Rachel rolled her eyes.

  "Me and Jeremy!" Molly stuck her tongue out.

  "He rarely even comes to visit," Rachel said. "If he really loved you, he'd be here every weekend instead of staying in the city."

  "He works a lot. And hey! How did we even get on the subject of my love life from that?" Molly jabbed the window pointing towards Jack's bar, but jumped back in surprise when she realized it was not her own reflection looking back.

  There was a man staring at the women through the window. He looked to be in his early forties, wearing a sloppy suit and wavering on his feet. Obviously drunk, he probably came straight from Jack's. He was looking right at Molly, and something frightened her about his eyes.

  "Hey get Brian on the phone would you?" Molly heard the fear creep into her voice as Rachel pulled out her cell phone to call her boyfriend. Most of the men who drank at Jack's bar were local, fishermen, married, and harmless. She had never seen this man before, and did not like the way he was staring at her. He leaned his sweaty forehead against the glass.

  "Hey there pretty ladies, why don't you open up?" he said just audible through the glass. As he reached for the door handle Molly's throat seemed to close up and her heart thudded violently against her rib cage. Had she locked the door after shutting it? She ran the couple feet to the door and checked the lock just as he began to turn the handle.

  The brass knob jiggled back and forth, but thankfully the door did not budge. Molly let out a sigh of relief at small favors.

  "He's not answering," Rachel said, her voice shaking. Brian was her boyfriend, a police officer, and married to another woman. If he was not answering, there was no telling where he could be.

  Both girls jumped and shrieked as Rachel's phone ring tone belted out a top forty pop hit. Rachel quickly answered.

  "Brian? Come to Molly's shop right now, or send someone if you can't come. There is a drunk guy trying to break in... No I don't know who he is," Rachel put her phone back in her pocket. "He's at Jack's. He's coming right now."

  Chapter Two

  "Jack, you know you're just asking for trouble!" Brian Bishop laughed as he walked into the small bar, tapping the beer strand lights as he crossed the threshold. In his mid-thirties, the policeman was a regular at Jack's after his shift, and it was still a surprise to Jack that the constant diet of fried food and beer did not age him faster. Brian was tall and lanky but healthy looking for his age, with a dark buzz cut.

  Jack momentarily raised his hands in a surrender sign. "Now, I looked them up, and the brand is actually made in Dickens, Ohio." Jack handed Brian a beer as the men seated at the bar's counter laughed at Jack's joke. Brian took his regular seat closest to the register and gave Jack a quick salute.

  If only it's enough trouble to bring her across the street. Jack's broad shoulders, dark messy hair, green eyes and a leftover Georgia accent was enough to bring a few women into the bar, but Molly had not come in once. If only he could show her he how he had changed.

  Jack took a five-dollar bill from Brian and when he turned around with change, Brian waved it away. "Thanks."

  Brian busied himself in conversation with the two men sitting next to him. Jack ran his rag across the counter looking around the room. He was proud of his business. Only two years old and already turning a nice profit every month. He was grateful he decided to skip the fancy decorator- who was going to charge thirty thousand dollars to decorate his bar in the old seaside bar look. Instead he had spent the months before the grand opening driving all over the state to buy items from auction, yard sales, and second hand stores. For less than five thousand bucks, he created a true and authentic old seaside bar look instead of a manufactured one.

  Old helms, fishing trophies, and framed photographs of tall tales and seaside heroes framed the walls. The scent of leather from the seats, the creaky wood flooring rescued from old docks, and the flavorful beer, both imported and brewed by Jack, were like home. A home he was considering selling this spring to buy into a brewery upstate with an old friend.

  Several locations were available when he was ready to purchase a building for the bar, but when he saw Molly Smith lived across the street from this one, his mind was made up instantly. He had not admitted even to himself that she was part of the reason he bought this place until he saw her with her boyfriend for the first time. Then that awful old pit in the stomach resurfaced, and he remembered. Molly was off limits. He realized his mistake when he saw them walk down Main Street hand in hand one sunny spring evening- Jack was chasing after a dream he could never have again.

  She had barely said a word to him in the two years they lived and worked across the street from each other. Not that he had really tried to talk to her after he saw her with Jeremy that first time.

  He poured himself a small glass of his own house brew and breathed in both the stout and sweet aromas of the blend. His recipes were his ticket out of this town, and his ticket away from seeing the woman who could never love him. Not after what he had done. He took a sip, and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing. "Hey Brian, you want to name this one for me?"

  He poured Brian a glass and slid it down the counter. Paul Donner whined, "How come he gets a free beer?"

  "Police, what can I say?" Jack laughed, but then poured small glasses for the rest of the men sitting at the counter.

  "Mmmm, man, you know this reminds me of? You probably don't want to hear it," Brian closed his eyes. "Christmas."

  "You just got Christmas on the brain man- but I guarantee there are no plastic trees or spoiled little rich kids in there." Jack pushed his sleeves up and leaned against the back counter.

  Brian sat up straight. "Well Scrooge, what would you call it?"

  "That's why I asked you." Jack would prefer to name all his blends after himself and add a number afterward to distinguish them. But his brewery partner wanted distinct names. "But no Christmas shit. Not in here."

  "What about when it turns into Dickens Village out there?" Brian asked as the few patrons quieted down to listen.

  "Then I hang a sign on the door that says Bah Humbug." The regulars roared with laughter, but Jack tapped his fingers on the counter, and wondered if he could get away with it. After all, he barely turned a profit during the past two Dickens festivals. Why not keep the Christmas crazies out?

  Jack walked to a corner booth where the only stranger in the bar had sat all night. It was pretty normal for the place to be filled with tourists in the summer months, but in the winter it was rare to see someone who was not a local. Even during Dickens. Especially during Dickens. The man polished off two pitchers of beer over the past hour, and it looked like it was hitting him. Jack set down a glass of water and watched as the man downed it.

  "I'll bring you another. Can I get you something to eat?" The man shook his head laying cash on the table. He stood, wavering on his feet and Jack cringed slightly as he felt an argument coming on.

  "Gotta go," he said, loosening the tie at his throat. He smelled like beer, but like something else, too. Something foul. Jack wondered when was the last time the man had a shower.

  "You can't drive like this," Jack said, waiting for the awkward key retrieval. Most of the guys were good about having just a beer or two, or grabbing a ride home when they had too much. Occasionally though, there was an incident when Jack had to wrestle keys away from someone who had had too much. But to Jack's relief, the man seemed to agree.

  "You got that right, I ain't driving nowhere," the stranger laughed. "Hotel nearby?"

  "There's an inn about three blocks up that way. You think you can walk that far?" Jack raised his eyebrow. The man seemed to be a little steadier now. "I'm sure someone would walk with you if you want."

  "Nah," he shook his head. “I got it.”

  "It's a cold night. It doesn't look like you're d
ressed for the weather," Jack looked over towards Brian to see if he was paying attention to the exchange. The police officer was still deep in conversation with Paul.

  "Do a man good to walk a little. Sober me up." The stranger pulled a beanie over his head and began to walk towards the door. "You said that way right?"

  "Yeah." Jack nodded and the stranger pulled open the door and walked out into the night.

  "Who was that?" Someone asked but Jack just shook his head. There was something about the man he did not like. He did not care who he was, but hoped he was gone tomorrow.

  "Probably another overindulgent drunk artist." Brian said, and that seemed to satisfy everyone's curiosity. The beauty of the mountains and ocean, along with the seclusion of the town, brought the artists out occasionally during off season. Last winter there was a guy staying at the inn who was writing the Great American Novel. Barely twenty-one, Jack remembered he ended up just drinking in the bar most nights instead of writing.

  "So how are things going with Bianca and Rachel?" Jack settled in across the counter from Brian. Most of the town knew about Brian's affair with Rachel, and hell, Bianca probably did too. Jack did not approve of what Brian was doing, but he did feel sorry for the man in a way. Brian was torn between the woman he fell in love with in high school and the woman he loved now. Jack also knew it was why Brian was in the bar several evenings a week while his wife thought he was working. The girlfriend, Rachel, worked across the street at Molly's, and Brian often picked her up after her shift. Brian's home was a town away, so he did not worry much about being caught red handed.

  "I'm not talking about that with you, I don't need the guilt trip tonight," Brian grumbled. "Why don't you tell me how things are going for you and Molly?"

  "Things are not going for Molly and me, and I don't know why people think they are," Jack's good mood instantly darkened.

  "She lives across the street,” Brian said before draining his glass.