'Tis the Season for Romance

by Kristen Proby

  “You left your truck unattended?” Her gaze lifts from mine, and it’s almost like she’s concentrating on my hat. Which is a little weird.

  I nod again.

  A sigh leaves her. “Well, come on then. Better cut through the store with me before the parking attendant marks your tire and you get towed.”

  I shift into motion, keeping up with her as she walks briskly through the store. An older man studies me with curiosity as I pass by, as does a very attractive older woman with silver hair and a face much like the one who’s leading me to the back of the store. I’d guess she’s her mom.

  By the time we’re at the back door, I have to come to a skidding stop or else I’m likely to run into this woman yet again. Amelia. I like her name. It’s pretty. Elegant.

  Like her.

  She pushes the door, holding it open for me, and I walk through it, relieved to see the company truck still sitting there, the tree safely nestled in the back. “I can set this up wherever you want it,” I tell her.

  “You can?” She sounds hopeful. Like she doesn’t want to deal with it, and I can’t blame her. Putting up a Christmas tree can be a hassle. When you do it all the time like me, it’s no big deal.

  “Yeah, I don’t mind. It’s part of my job.” I haul the tree out of the truck and peek my head around it so I can meet her gaze. “Where do you want it?”

  She presses her lips into a straight line, her brows knitting together, and I can tell she’s thinking. Damn, she’s cute. Wait, that’s not the right word for her. Beautiful. Classy.

  That’s more like it.

  Untouchable.

  I need to remember that. She’d see nothing in a chump like me. I’d take a guess she’s older than I am. Around Candice’s age. Maybe even a little older. Mid-twenties for sure.

  And I’m a so-called adult who only recently became old enough to drink legally. Who works fulltime for a Christmas tree farm with no aspirations, while her upscale family owns a jewelry store and are probably rich as hell. I can’t compete.

  I don’t even know why I bother thinking like this.

  “There are still customers in the store,” she finally says, tapping her index finger against her cherry-red lips. “Can you be…inconspicuous?”

  “Of course,” I say, vaguely offended. “I can manage to stay out of everyone’s way.”

  “Okay then.” She nods once, as if confirming my response and she approves. “Follow me.”

  I do as she says as best to my abilities, considering I’m carrying a giant tree all by myself. I stumble a few times. And I’m sure I’m scattering a path of pine needles in my wake. When we actually enter the storefront, I hear someone gasp.

  It’s the elegant woman who’s a carbon copy of Amelia, her fingers covering her mouth. I’m sure I just horrified her with the mess the tree made.

  “Amelia, that tree is gorgeous!” the woman exclaims, running right up to me. She reaches out and gently touches the branches, a wonderous expression on her face as her gaze shifts to mine. “This is the first time we’ve had a real Christmas tree in the shop since…ever!”

  Well. That wasn’t the reaction I expected.

  “I hope you like it, ma’am,” I say in my best polite voice. “The Sullivan farm grows the best trees in the area, if you ask me.”

  “Oh, are you one of the Sullivans?” the woman asks.

  I shake my head. “He’s my boss.”

  The woman contemplates me, her gaze assessing. Nerves blast through me, and I wonder why.

  Oh, probably because I feel like I’m being sized up. Analyzed.

  “Mother, leave him alone.” Amelia magically appears, offering me an apologetic smile. “Can you set it up in front of the window over there?” she asks, pointing at the giant front window.

  “Sure thing,” I tell her.

  Within a few minutes, I’ve got the tree set up dead center in front of that window. When I turn to tell Amelia I’m leaving, she’s nowhere to be found. It’s her mother who greets me with a giant smile and a thankful attitude.

  “I appreciate you setting it up so quickly! It’s a beautiful tree. I can’t wait to decorate it,” she gushes. “Please thank your boss from us. I can’t wait to tell everyone where we got it.”

  “I’ll make sure and mention it to him that you said that, ma’am,” I tell her, gesturing toward the back of the store. “Mind if I leave through that door?”

  “Of course! I’ll escort you,” she says with a friendly smile.

  The woman keeps up her chatter the entire way, and I nod and respond in all the right places, but I’m distracted. Looking around for the flawless woman one more time before I leave the store.

  But she’s gone.

  Chapter 3

  Amelia

  “So…we’ve been talking,” Candice starts, her focus zeroed in on me.

  We’re at Milligan’s for happy hour. The bar isn’t far from the jewelry store, making it an easy walk. A few of my friends decided to get together, including Eleanor, who recently moved to Las Vegas to live with her hunky pro football-playing boyfriend. She’s in town for the holiday and Candice’s upcoming nuptials.

  She’s the sunshine to my dark cloud right now, so I’m glad she’s here. And when she’s paired up with Candice? It’s like there are two bright suns beaming down upon us, chasing away all the darkness. It’s also like I have no choice but to act cheerful.

  “What have you been talking about?” I ask warily as my gaze scans the ladies sitting at this table.

  They’re all here. It’s a big group of us and we’re sitting in a rounded booth, two pitchers of beer on the table in the center. None of us are what I would consider beer enthusiasts, but when the time calls for it, we’ll drink a few.

  I suppose tonight, the time calls for it.

  “You need to pick yourself back up and start dating again,” Stella says without hesitation. She’s our determined friend. The tell-it-like-it-is friend. “Just because you broke up with—”

  “Don’t say his name!” Candice interrupts, remembering my request months ago, after we first split up.

  Stella sends me and Candice an annoyed glare before she continues. “Let’s try that again.” She clears her throat. “It’s been months since you ended your relationship with—him. And now you need to get back up on that horse.”

  “And ride that pony all night long,” Eleanor adds with a giggle, followed by a quiet burp she covers up with her fingers.

  We all laugh. Clearly, someone is already a little buzzed.

  “And luckily enough, I found you someone,” Candice announces with a giant grin, as if she’s about to offer me an early Christmas gift. “I think he’s perfect for you.”

  The groan that escapes me can’t be helped. “Please don’t set me up with some stuffy banker you met at a fundraiser,” I say.

  Our friend is the fundraising committee queen. She loves to donate her time and family money to various fundraisers, and even sits on a few boards.

  Candice appears offended. “I would never do that.”

  “Hey, I love my financial planner,” Eleanor chirps. “He’s so great! I know for a fact that Kelsey has been hanging around with him a lot lately, too.”

  “Theo’s just a friend.” Kelsey’s cheeks turn pink and she waves a hand, dismissing Eleanor’s allegation. “No biggie.”

  “Whatever you say,” Stella says sardonically, as if she doesn’t believe a word that Kelsey says. Hmm. “But Candice did find you someone, Amelia. We think he should be your date for her wedding.”

  What? “You’re going to set me up on a blind date that takes place at a wedding. Gee, that sounds fun,” I deadpan, reaching for my mug of beer. I take a big swig, wince as it goes down, then take another.

  “It’s the perfect place for a set up,” Caroline says, our wise, married friend. “Come on. You have a giant party to distract you. There’s free booze, food and cake.”

  I do have a sweet tooth.

  “Plus, there’s
dancing. It’s a giant party!” Caroline smiles. “If you two can’t make conversation, pull him onto the dance floor. See if you have chemistry! And if that doesn’t work?”

  “Bail out like Cinderella. Just don’t leave a shoe behind so he can find you,” Sarah adds with a laugh.

  Her comment makes the entire table erupt with laughter. Including me. I love all of my friends. And all of my friends—minus Kelsey, the newest member of our friend group, who I’ve grown to really like over the last few months—have serious relationships. Back in the day when they were all single, I was the only one in a relationship.

  Oh, how the tables have turned.

  Now they’re wanting to meddle in my nonexistent love life, and I don’t know how to feel about it.

  “The guy I found for you is sweet. Very kind. Thoughtful. Good sense of humor,” Candice says.

  “In other words, he’s a hideous troll,” I say, immediately hating myself when the words leave me. Since when should I care about looks? My ex is very attractive yet he’s a complete asshole. That old saying is true: looks can be deceiving.

  “No, he’s actually really handsome, but I don’t know how serious of a relationship you could have with him. That’s why I think he’s perfect for you,” Candice says.

  “She won’t come right out and say it, so I will for her,” Stella says, nudging Candice with her elbow. “He’s the perfect rebound man. He’ll fuck your ex right out of your system, once and for all.”

  My mouth drops open. “I’m not looking for someone to—fuck.”

  Now they’re all wearing shocked expressions, just like me.

  “That’s a word I never thought I’d hear you say,” Caroline breathes, her eyes wide as she stares at me.

  “What’s the problem with me dropping a f-bomb here and there?” I shrug. Drink more beer. Drain the entire mug, though I don’t want a refill. One glass is plenty.

  “You’re too refined for f-bombs,” Kelsey says, her expression calm. Which is hilarious because she has a gorgeous, movie-star face, and I bet our friends consider her more on the refined side as well. I know I do. When I first met her, I thought she had a mysterious, aloof air.

  But I know for a fact she also drops f-bombs all the time so…

  “What makes me refined?” I ask her.

  “Your perfect posture. The way you walk. How you speak. The way you dress,” Kelsey explains, and everyone nods their agreement. “You have a very elegant way about you, Amelia.”

  It’s my mother’s fault. Probably both my parents’ fault. They’ve always carried themselves a certain way. When I was younger, Mother was constantly correcting my posture, my grammar, my makeup, my choice of clothing. I never gave it much thought. She’s always treated me that way. Not that she’s a tyrant—she’s just always wanted me to look my best.

  “Thank you,” I say cautiously. “But I hope that doesn’t make me seem…unapproachable.”

  “The guy I want to set you up with? He won’t be intimidated by you,” Candice says assuredly. “He’s very easygoing. Not much intimidates him. I mean, if he can stand Charlie barking at him on a daily basis, he can handle anything.”

  “What is this perfect male specimen’s name?” I ask, raising my brows.

  “Everyone calls him Jonesie,” Candice says.

  The girls start laughing. I can’t help it, so do I. “Okay. What’s his first name?”

  “No one ever calls him by his first name,” Candice says with a little frown. “He’s just…Jonesie.”

  “I cannot go on a date with a man who goes by that name,” I tell her.

  “Can you imagine screaming it out loud, right in the middle of sex?” Stella asks, slapping the edge of the table and making all the glasses shake. “Yes, Jonesie! Right there! No, a little to the left! Oh God, Jonesie!”

  We’re all in near hysterics by now, leaning on each other as if we can’t control ourselves. Candice at first appears offended, but her lips start twitching and she eventually gives into the laughter that’s swept the table.

  Ah, that feels amazing. I haven’t laughed like this in a long time.

  Thank goodness for friends.

  “I’m being serious,” Candice says once we’ve all calmed down. “I want to set you two up during my wedding.”

  “How? You’re going to be a little preoccupied,” I remind her.

  “You’ll be seated at the same table at the reception,” Candice says, her eyes dancing as she leans in close to me. “Hopefully right next to each other.”

  I raise my brows. There are no guarantees in life. I’ve realized this over the years. “What if we’re not?”

  “What?” Canice appears confused. “Everyone has an assigned table.”

  “But what if this Jonesie is a rebel and sits wherever he wants?” I ask.

  “That’s not proper etiquette,” Candice says, who certainly knows her way around etiquette. Probably better than I do.

  “Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he doesn’t understand the basic rules of etiquette.” I tip my head to the side. “You never know what you’re dealing with. He could go rogue.”

  “Perhaps.” Candice taps her finger against her pursed lips. “But I’m willing to take the chance. You should be too. I think he’d be good for you. A breath of fresh air.”

  I think of Candice’s suggestion long after I’ve come home from the bar. I ponder the possibilities as I straighten up around my already tidy apartment. While I take a shower. Afterwards, as I lather on my special face cream that keeps my skin glowing. While I brush my teeth.

  I’m so wrapped up in thoughts of the mysterious Jonesie, I even dream about him, though I have no clue what he actually looks like. In my dream, though, he’s short and very hairy, and he chases me around the tree farm like some sort of deranged psychopath. I keep screaming, Jonesie! Jonesie! As I try to flee, I head straight into the arms of the man who ran into me at the tree lot. He grabs hold of me, but this time he doesn’t let go. He’s got that baseball cap on, wearing it backwards, which I found oddly appealing when he did that at the store, and then he leans down and whispers close to my ear, “You’re safe.”

  …I nearly melt. Just at the sound of his voice.

  I wake up with a startled gasp, my face drenched with sweat, and I almost laugh at myself.

  Clearly Stella’s joke about having ridiculous sex with someone named Jonesie seeped into my subconscious, and popped into my dream in a completely different way. Let’s just face facts.

  Stella’s right. I can’t be with a man named Jonesie, even if it is something casual. Besides, I don’t do casual. That word isn’t even a part of my vocabulary. I’m a serious girl, living in a material world.

  Great, and now I’m quoting Madonna songs wrong.

  With a huff, I roll over on my side and close my eyes, desperate to go back to sleep. I have to wake up in less than three hours. Work will be busy today. People shop earlier for Christmas every single year, and this one is no exception. And while we don’t have as much foot traffic as we used to, my older brother Palmer has been in charge of working on our website and our social media presence. Something he most definitely excels at, thank goodness. Business has picked up online, almost fifty percent over last year.

  The family business is doing well. Life is good. My ex—no name mentioned so I don’t spiral out of control and start thinking about him again, never a good idea at four in the morning—is out of my life forever. He’s moved on. I think.

  God, I hope.

  I hope I’ve moved on too.

  Chapter 4

  Isaac

  The Sullivan family has us employees running ragged the entirety of Thanksgiving week. Thanks to the wedding happening on the Saturday after the holiday, we’ve been working double time.

  Make that triple time.

  I’m exhausted. Helping customers pick out trees all day Friday while on the side directing where wedding and reception deliveries need to go is a major responsibility. Charlie told me I was h
is right-hand guy for the big day, and while I was honored he trusts me the most out of anyone else on this tree farm besides his sister Victoria, who is busting her butt to keep things running smoothly, I am also tense as hell. Worried I’ll somehow mess something up.

  Spider-Man’s uncle was right. With great power comes great responsibility, and that shit is no joke.

  I’m hustling so much, by the time early Saturday afternoon rolls around, I’m ready to collapse. Drink a beer, take a shower, and go to bed. But I can’t.

  I still have a wedding to attend.

  So I get ready in Charlie’s office. Brought a duffel bag with a change of clothes with me to work today, and I make quick work of it, hoping I don’t smell too bad. Brought cologne too and give myself a couple of sprays. Check out my reflection in the mirror Charlie keeps stashed in his desk, doing my best to fix my hair before I give up and make my way to the bathroom.

  Better mirror, better view, and access to actual water.

  Once I’ve set myself to rights, I wander out into the store that Victoria runs. Most everyone is gone, and Victoria is standing behind the register, looking as if she’s tallying up the day’s totals. I’m sure the store took in a lot of money. We were swarmed with people all freaking day. It’ll be like that until a few days before Christmas.

  “Any customers still in here?” I call out to her.

  She lifts her gaze to mine and slowly shakes her head. “Just me and a couple of employees.”

  “Perfect. You need any help? Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” I ask.

  “I’ve got this, but thank you. And it won’t take me too long for me to get ready. I’ll use my office.” She smiles.

  I smile back. She’s cute and all, and we’ve flirted more than a few times over the years, but I refuse to get involved with the owner’s family. The moment we break up, I’d be out. I like this job too damn much to risk it.

  It’s nice, though, how the Sullivans are no-nonsense. What you see is what you get, and when it comes to Charlie, he’s brusque. Blunt. Sometimes a little too blunt. That’s why it’s funny to me that Charlie is marrying Candice Gaines. She’s a sweetheart, but she’s also a very prissy woman who is full of sunshine and rainbows and always wants to take care of people. She never stops smiling. Charlie never stops scowling. I suppose they’re a good match.