'Tis the Season for Romance

by Kristen Proby

  Ever.

  Her smile grows. I really like it when she does that. Her entire face brightens, and her eyes seem to almost glitter. Especially in the dim light we’re currently dancing in within this tent. “I always thought that ‘when you know, you know’ stuff was a pack of lies.”

  “Love at first sight is kind of bullshit,” I say.

  She laughs. Deep and full and I love it. “I agree.”

  “Attraction at first sight, though…” I swing her around, making her eyes widen. “I believe in it.”

  I tug her closer, so her body is meshed with mine. We’re a perfect fit. “I suppose I do too…”

  Deciding to go for it, I kiss her again. Right there on the dance floor, in front of everyone. I can feel eyes on us. Curiosity rising. Questions on the tip of their tongues.

  None of it matters. All I can focus on is this soft, beautiful woman in my arms.

  And wonder how quickly can I see her again.

  Chapter 10

  Amelia

  I walk inside Sweet Dreams Bakery and Café on my lunch hour. It’s crowded with people. Mostly tourists. Shoppers looking for Christmas gifts, taking a break and having a quick meal or coffee. Holiday music plays. Stella is behind the counter, mastering the ominous espresso machine that intimidates the crap out of me. She handles it like she was born to. As if it doesn’t scare her at all. I suppose it doesn’t.

  We make eye contact and she waves me over to the pickup counter.

  “I have our lunch order in,” she tells me, her voice rising above the din. “Kelsey and Sarah already grabbed a table for us.”

  “What is this, a committee lunch?” I figured it was just Stella and me. We meet for lunch at least once a week here, since I work down the street from her family’s café.

  “I might have mentioned our lunch date to the girls. Caroline can’t make it. Candice is on her honeymoon. And Eleanor is already back in Las Vegas,” Stella explains.

  I’m both relieved and sad. All of my friends at one table can be—a lot. They have questions. Lots of them.

  And I’m sure today, they all have to do with Isaac.

  “Give me a few and I’ll be right over,” Stella continues, just before she heads back to the espresso machine and starts filling orders.

  I wander through the tables in the café, spotting Kelsey sitting at one in the back, Sarah across from her with her back to me. I settle into the chair next to Sarah and smile at them, but don’t say a word.

  “Aren’t you quiet,” Sarah teases.

  I roll my eyes. “What is there to say?”

  “Oh, there’s a lot to say,” Kelsey adds, leaning across the table eagerly. “First of all, what’s going on with you and the blond hottie you were dancing with all night at the reception?”

  “We only danced a couple of times.” I shrug, playing it off.

  “More than that, but whatever,” Sarah says. “Plus, you two looked pretty cozy sitting at your table.”

  “Don’t forget they caught the bouquet and the garter,” Kelsey says. “Talk about fated.”

  “We’re not fated,” I say irritably.

  They both laugh at me and wave dismissive hands. “Whatever. You two were totally into each other, right?” Sarah asks.

  I don’t know how to answer that. Once the reception wound down, Isaac walked me out to my car. Gave me a really delicious kiss that had my toes curling in my shoes. Asked if he could see me again, and like the weak, silly person that I am, of course I agreed.

  Why wouldn’t I agree? He made Saturday’s wedding and reception so pleasant. More than pleasant. I enjoyed his company. I want to know more about him.

  But are we moving too fast? Feels like it. I don’t want to jump into another relationship too soon after the last one.

  We texted Sunday off and on, throughout the late afternoon into the evening. He had to work in the morning. I was off. We talked long into the night. Long after I crawled into bed. Normally I watch something on Netflix or Hulu or whatever, but not last night. All I wanted to do was talk to Isaac.

  Now it’s Monday. Back to normal, back to business. And in the light of day, I’m starting to second-guess myself. Second-guess this entire potential relationship.

  Maybe we have no potential at all.

  “You are way too quiet,” Sarah says, her words startling me “Fess up, Amelia. What’s going on in your head?”

  A sigh escapes me and I rest my arms on the table, then launch into my story about what happened at the wedding with Isaac. I also tell them his last name, which makes them both sit up and take notice.

  “I’m scared,” I confess once I finish my tale. “Maybe we’re moving too fast.”

  “Do you like him?” Sarah asks.

  “Is he a good kisser?” This question is from Kelsey.

  “Yes, and yes.” I nod toward both of them. “But he’s young.”

  “How young?” Kelsey asks eagerly.

  “Twenty-one.” I wrinkle my nose. “Five years younger. That’s not good, am I right?”

  “It’s not that big of a deal,” Sarah says. “There’s a big age gap between Jared and me, and we make it work.”

  “I hate to say this, but it’s a lot more accepted for a man to be older than a woman, not the other way around.” I roll my eyes, despising the words even came from my mouth. “An older woman and a younger man though? I’m sure I’ll be called a cougar or whatever.”

  “Five years doesn’t make you a cougar,” Kelsey says.

  “Tell that to my parents.” That’s what terrifies me the most. Telling my parents I’m dating a man who’s only twenty-one. Who works at a tree farm and has no real aspirations beyond that. I don’t think Isaac knows what he wants to do with his life yet, and that’s okay. He’s young.

  I should be looking to settle down, according to my mother. Find a man who has a solid, dependable career—that’s my father’s advice. Ever since I hit twenty-five last year, they’ve been hinting at marriage and babies. At the time, I thought it was still possible. My relationship was floundering, but I believed I could save it.

  Now I’m alone, and I get this feeling I’m a complete disappointment to my parents. Or maybe that’s just me feeling like I disappointed myself.

  “Are they still on you to find a respectable man and marry him?” Sarah asks.

  “Yes.” I nod. “They’re very—traditional.”

  “Well, it’s a modern world, and you’re a modern woman who goes after what you want,” Kelsey says, her voice firm, her eyes blazing with fire. “I am so sick and tired of hearing people tell us what they think we should do. You need to do what you want, Amelia. And if that hot piece of man flesh makes you happy and you want him, then go for it!”

  I sit up a little straighter, fueled by Kelsey’s speech. “He is really nice.”

  “And very cute,” Sarah adds.

  “He wants to see me in a few days. He suggested we should go on a date,” I continue.

  “Who’s going on a date? Amelia?” Stella appears in front of our table, her arms laden with baskets that contain our lunches. She sets them on the table and we start grabbing them, searching for what we ordered. “Let me go get our drinks.”

  “Amelia’s going on a date with the cute blond. Isaac Jones.” Sarah says his last name with extra emphasis.

  “Say what? Amelia is actually hot for the infamous Jonesie! Who knew? I guess Candice did.” Stella grins and holds up a finger. “I’ll be right back.

  By the time Stella rejoins us at the table, we all have our lunches and she doles out our drinks. We eat and chat about the wedding, about the holiday season, how busy it’s been at both Sweet Dreams and my parents’ jewelry store. Sarah still works at a lingerie store in the same area, and she said they’ve been swamped too. Though mostly she fills her time with creating window displays at various businesses in the area.

  It’s when our baskets are mostly empty and our bellies are full is when they start asking me about Isaac again. Specifi
cally Stella, since she wasn’t part of our original conversation.

  “So when are you seeing Jonesie?” she asks.

  “He wants to take her on a date, remember?” Kelsey says with a smile.

  I send her a withering look. “Kelsey stole my thunder.”

  “She didn’t mean to,” Sarah says, settling her hand on my arm for a brief moment. “We’re just so excited now that you’re not talking about—”

  “Don’t say his name!” Stella screeches, drawing strange looks from other people in the café. She doesn’t even notice. Or she just doesn’t care. “You said yes to the date, right?”

  Hesitation hits me and I blow out a breath. “Actually, I haven’t given him any sort of answer yet.”

  “Amelia. Don’t let this one go. He seems really sweet,” Stella says. “Totally into you, from what I saw at the reception.”

  “He’s young,” I admit. “Only twenty-one.”

  “Ooh, perfect! He’s probably full of energy, which translates to amazing sex,” Stella says, making me blush. Making Sarah and Kelsey laugh. “That’s what you need. A good old fashioned fu—”

  I lean over the table and rest my hand over Stella’s mouth before she can finish the sentence. “That’s not what I need. I need a man who is patient and kind and doesn’t freak out when we run out of toothpaste.”

  They’re all frowning at me with that revelation.

  “What in the world are you talking about?” asks Stella.

  “One of the last arguments that he who shall not be named and I had was about us running out of toothpaste. He couldn’t believe there wasn’t a replacement tube in the drawer in the bathroom. I said I forgot, and when did that become my responsibility anyway?” I shrug. “We got into a huge argument. He demanded I move out. Over toothpaste. He’d done that sort of thing before. Insisted I leave and then begged me to come back. Well, this time I actually left, and took all of my things with me. And I never went back. No matter how many times he begged.”

  They’re all silent for a moment. Including me. I didn’t mean to make the mood so somber, but there were so many things that happened near the end of our relationship that I never revealed, only because I knew they would tell me I was crazy for staying.

  “I didn’t know it was that bad,” Sarah says softly.

  “Me either,” Stella adds.

  Kelsey says, “Same.”

  They all look at me with sad puppy dog eyes.

  “This is why I don’t want any type of one-night stand or whatever. I want to hang out with a guy I can be friends with. One who’s not going to pressure me. One who’s genuinely kind and cares about me, and doesn’t get mad over the littlest thing. That’s what I need,” I explain.

  “You’ll never know if Jonesie is what you need until you give him a chance,” Stella points out.

  “True,” I tell her. “Maybe I should agree to that date.”

  “Maybe you should,” Sarah says.

  Yes. Maybe I should.

  Chapter 11

  Isaac

  Somehow, someway, I got Amelia Lee to agree to go on a date with me.

  It took some warming up on her part. I know she likes me. I remember how she kissed me out at her car after the reception. She responded. Threw herself right into it. She wrapped her arms around my neck. She clung to me. I heard her tiny moan when I stroked my tongue against hers.

  But by about Tuesday, she started to withdraw a little bit. I could practically hear the worry in her voice. Via text.

  There’s no playing hard to get with this woman. She is flat-out hard to get.

  I bided my time and remained patient. I treated her like a friend. That really hot friend I want to see naked, but I forgot about those last parts and focused on the word friend instead. We texted a lot. I sent her photos throughout my day out at the farm one Saturday, and I think she loved it. I’ve been busy with work. So has she. But finally.

  Finally.

  I got her to agree to go out with me on a Saturday night.

  The Saturday before Christmas, no less.

  I show up at the doorstep of her apartment a few minutes early, a gift in hand. I hope she doesn’t think I’ve done too much. This gift isn’t that big of a deal, but I have a feeling she’ll really like it.

  Stepping forward, I knock on the door and then stay planted on the Christmas-y doormat, waiting for her to answer.

  The door swings open a few seconds later, and my mouth pops open at first sight. She’s so damn beautiful, it almost hurts to look at her. Her hair is down and perfectly straight, and she’s got on this black, very soft-looking sweater that makes me want to touch her.

  She could be wearing anything and I’d want to touch her.

  Amelia glances at the gift hanging from my hand and her face lights up as her gaze meets mine. “Is that for me?”

  I hold the thick, fresh pine wreath out to her. “Straight off of Sullivan Farms.”

  “Oh my gosh.” She takes it from me and brings it up to her face, taking a deep sniff, her eyes falling closed for a brief second. “It smells amazing.”

  “That’s why I brought it for you.” I smile.

  She smiles back. “Come inside.”

  I step inside her apartment and take a look around, not surprised at all with what I see. It’s clean and elegant, just like the woman who lives here. I watch as she clutches the wreath in both hands, her head swiveling left and right, as if she’s looking for a spot to hang it.

  “Most people hang it on their door,” I suggest.

  “No. No way.” She shakes her head. “I want it inside so I can enjoy looking at it and smelling it.”

  “Whatever floats your boat,” I tell her, making her laugh.

  “I think I could put it right there.” She points at a blank sliver of wall that flanks the right side of her sliding glass door. “Maybe you could hang it for me?”

  “You have a nail and hammer?”

  “Yes, but I have one of those 3M sticky hooks I’d rather use instead,” she says. “You think it would support the wreath?”

  “Let’s check it out.”

  She goes and gets the hook from somewhere in her kitchen while I test the weight of the wreath in one hand. It’s pretty heavy. Can one of those little temporary hooks really hold this thing?

  I give it a shot, rising up on tiptoe to press the sticky side of the hook onto the wall after Amelia gives it to me. The wreath is massive. I got her one of the biggest ones we offer because why the hell not? For once, I used my employee discount.

  After the hook is in place where she wants it to go, I set the wreath on it, taking my time to release it, in case it could plummet to the ground. I let go of the wreath slowly, backing away from it a few careful steps at a time, pleased to see it remain in place.

  “There you go,” I say, turning to face her. “What do you think?”

  “It’s gorgeous,” she says on a sigh. “I love the pinecones and the red ribbon.”

  “We have more elaborately decorated ones, but I thought this one suited you best,” I tell her.

  Her smile turns more intimate. “Thank you. I wasn’t going to get myself a tree this year, so this is the next best thing.”

  I shove my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, suddenly a little uncomfortable. More like feeling awkward. I don’t know why. I just—I want to do right by this woman, and not scare her away. Or drive her away. I want a chance, and this night feels like it could be my only one. “I’m glad I could put a smile on your face. It’s all I ever want to do.”

  She’s silent for a moment. So am I.

  “Are you tired?” she finally asks.

  I worked today, and she knows it. “Exhausted.”

  “Me too.” She pauses. “You want to just—stay here and get a pizza? Maybe watch a movie?”

  “That sounds perfect,” I say, relief filling me. It’s not that I don’t want to take her out and treat her right, but I am really tired. I’ve been going nonstop this last week
and the upcoming week is more of the same thing. I know Amelia’s been at her family’s store pretty much every single day. Working during the holidays for businesses like we do, it’s constantly busy.

  I can’t wait for December 25th, only because I won’t have to deal with anyone wanting a tree for another year.

  We argue a little over the best pizza place in the area, until we finally come to an agreement. I order the pizza via the restaurant’s app, while Amelia goes about collecting plates and napkins, and also pulls an unopened bottle of wine from her pantry. I don’t bother telling her I’m more of a beer man, though I am. I’ll give her fancy wine a try.

  Within thirty minutes we’re seated at her tiny kitchen table, sharing a pizza and drinking wine, making small talk. She tells me more funny stories about the endless snobby customers who come into their store, and I tell her about the crazy requests people make when they’re asking for a Christmas tree.

  “We get lots of people wanting us to just lop off the top of the tree,” I say, her eyes wide as she listens to me, sipping from her wineglass. “It’ll be this gorgeous twelve footer, and they’re like, ‘we only want three feet off the top, please.’”

  “What do you do when they make that request?” she asks.

  “What usually deters most is when you have to charge them for the entire tree, regardless if they’re only taking three feet,” I explain. “If they only take the top, they ruin the rest of it, rendering the tree unsaleable. So Charlie’s solution is to charge them full sticker.”

  “Do they usually go for it?”

  “Nah.” I shake my head. “It’s hella pricey. But sometimes they don’t care. Like today. We had a man with his wife, and she had—expectations.” She was rude as fuck, but I don’t bother saying that. “One of those expectations was the top four feet of a gorgeous fourteen foot tree. She didn’t care if she was ruining it. She wanted the little tree for her tabletop display she was creating in her kitchen or some such shit. I don’t know.”