She relaxes a little at that. “Where are you parked? Out back?”
I nod, slipping my hat back on my head. Backwards this time.
“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 full-time 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 just 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. We’ll 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.
Three
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.