Snowflake Wishes (Holly Springs Romance Book 1) Page 3

  “Touché.”

  We filled two boxes with cookbooks, and another with clothes from the closet. By the time we finished packing up my personal belongings, we had five boxes sitting neatly by the door.

  Patrick stood in the center of the living room, which doubled as a dining room, off to the side of the kitchen. The place was small, but that meant we didn’t need much furniture. He must have followed my line of thinking, his eyes scanning the small room and jumping into the one small bedroom. “Maybe we should have brought over a few things anyway.”

  “He’s got a couch and a bed. What more does he need?”

  “A TV?”

  Another valid point. A small, outdated entertainment center sat against the wall opposite the couch, with nothing on it besides an old DVD player and a few random cords that didn’t appear to belong to anything in particular. “I’ll get on that. There’s an extra one at the house. It isn’t very nice, but it’ll do the job.”

  A knock on the door grabbed our attention and we turned in unison. Jake stood at the top of the stairs, his hand resting on the handle of the open door.

  “The waitress showed me the way.” His easy smile rested on me lightly before sweeping to Patrick. My stomach flipped and I scowled, shoving the unwanted reaction away. But I wasn’t blind; this guy was hot.

  Patrick caught my eye and I felt my cheeks warm. It was so unloyal of me to have those thoughts. I would need to do something about that.

  “This is…nice,” Jake said, coming further into the room. He took two steps and he was square in the center of the living room. I hadn’t considered how a tall man like Jake would dwarf the apartment further. But it didn’t matter. It was only temporary.

  Patrick’s amiable smile brightened the room. He stepped forward, reaching his hand out to shake Jake’s. “It’s small, but right in the center of town. Situated above Holly Springs’ only diner, you’ll find company right outside your door whenever you seek it. And the company isn’t too bad, if I say so myself,” he finished, sending me a wink. When had he come up with that spiel?

  I don’t know why, but it made me want to smack him on the arm again. I refrained, but barely.

  Jake’s gaze snapped to me before he crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “Do you run the diner by yourself?”

  Serial killer. This charismatic cover model stranger could totally be the next Ted Bundy. “Um, no.” I swallowed. “I’ve got a cook and another waitress on staff and there’s always a few customers around.” Not as many as I’d like, of course, or needed. But that was the nature of a small town without much in the way of tourist traffic.

  “She makes killer cake pops, man,” Patrick said, slinging his arm around my shoulders. “I know that sounds like a girly dessert but Madison puts crack in hers or something.”

  Jake shot me a look of amusement. “I’ll have to try one, then.”

  “Just come to the—” A loud eighties rock song cut through the room, effectively shutting Patrick’s mouth. He reached into his pocket, shot me an apologetic look, then turned away to answer his phone.

  “Let me show you around,” I said at once, moving into the kitchen. Three more steps landed Jake on the other side of the bar that doubled as the kitchen table. “Here’s the kitchen. You’re welcome to use anything I’ve got stocked. Washer and dryer are in the bathroom through there.” I pointed to the closed door beside the bedroom. Patrick paced at the other end of the room, his hand cupping the back of his bent neck. There was clearly trouble.

  “And the bedroom?” Jake asked.

  I stepped past him toward the bedroom, catching a musky scent. I swept my arm like Vanna White. “Here you have a bed, and a closet.” The small room was otherwise bare. There was ample space along the wall for a few furniture additions, but I hadn’t moved them over yet. The apartment hadn’t been used in well over a year by any one person consistently, so there hadn’t been a need until now.

  Jake leaned against the doorway, his gaze sweeping the clean, but empty room. I was suddenly grateful I’d spent the last two weeks deep cleaning the apartment in preparation for my own move. The amount of dust that had accumulated was appalling and would’ve turned him away for sure.

  Clearing my throat, I drew his attention to the empty wall. “I’ve got a spare dresser and a TV. I’ll have them moved over soon. Is there anything else you might need?”

  Jake spun slowly. I tried not to check him out while he displayed himself so easily. His gaze landed back on me and I felt unaccountably nervous. “Just your phone number.”

  I stiffened. “Excuse me? I have—” I swallowed. I couldn’t finish that sentence with a boyfriend. Not really. Regardless of what everyone else thought, Patrick and I knew the truth. I was having a hard time committing.

  Jake’s eyebrow rose and it occurred to me in one fell swoop that he probably meant in regard to the apartment and any of his potential needs. I felt like an idiot, and I slid my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and quickly made an entrance for a new number. “Here, put your number in and I’ll text you right now. Then you’ll have mine.”

  He complied. The little smile playing on his lips irritated me and I wanted to wipe it clean off his face.

  “Picky neighbors,” Patrick complained, coming to stand beside us. “I’ve got Mr. Hansen’s dog kenneled in my backyard and apparently he hasn’t stopped whining all evening.” He rolled his eyes. “You want to know who else hasn’t stopped whining? Berta Gillingham. The old bird has to constantly find something to moan about.”

  He stepped forward to kiss me on the cheek. “I need to handle this. See you tomorrow night?”

  I nodded.

  He clapped Jake on the back. “Good to have you here. See you around, man.”

  We watched him retreat, his jovial demeanor no less for his bothersome neighbor. He was exactly the sort of man who would take a difficult situation and find the light. He was positive, and kind to everyone. He was absolutely perfect father material.

  Whoa. I shook my head. Where had that come from? I was not imagining Patrick in that role with me in the equation. I couldn’t.

  And that was the trouble.

  “So, where do I get my hands on one of these amazing cake pops?” Jake asked, pulling me from my concerning thoughts. “Downstairs? I’m guessing it’s your diner, Miss Bell.”

  I moved past him to the bathroom, pulling a set of sheets from the cupboard. “Sorry, I don’t sell them in the diner. I kind of use them as a marketing tool.”

  He watched me start making up the bed, before coming around the side to pull the corner of the fitted sheet over the mattress. “Where are you promoting them next?”

  I paused, regarding him closely. If I was being honest, I didn’t want this guy anywhere near the parade or the tree lighting ceremony. He was not a member of this town. He was some big city guy here for who-knows-what. And it was clear he wasn’t going to stick around. I didn’t know why he bothered me, but he did.

  “Just a town thing.”

  He gave me a knowing look. “And I’m not a townie?”

  “What? No, that’s not it.” I swept past him to the closet and pulled an extra pillow from the plastic protector bag it was stored in. “I just don’t think any of our small-town functions are going to entertain someone like you.”

  “And what would someone like me be interested in, then, in a place like Holly Springs?”

  I stopped, looking him square in his piercing blue eyes. “That’s exactly what I would like to know.”

  He stepped back, as though the force of my question blew him away. He ran a hand over his square jaw and frowned. “Are there hangers in the closet?”

  “Yes,” I said, surprised by the sudden change in subject.

  “Then I won’t need a dresser. Is twelve hundred okay?”

  My mouth fell open. “A month?” He’d doubled what I had intended to ask for.

  “Is that too low? I can go fifteen.”

  “Twelve is fine,” I
hurried to say, nodding. I didn’t want to take too much advantage of the guy.

  “Great.” Silence fell on the room. I searched for something to say but he beat me to it. “I’ll have the money ready tomorrow.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. I made it to the front door and the pile of boxes waiting beside it. I was stumped. Patrick left before helping me get the boxes home. “Just give me a minute to get these down to the diner and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  I picked up a box full of clothes and shoes and took it down to the diner, dropping it on the floor by the back door, where it would be out of the way. I turned and almost bumped into Jake. I jumped out of his way and he dropped two boxes beside my other one. He turned around and took the stairs swiftly, returning with the last two boxes shortly.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “No problem.” He stood there expectantly, his smile growing as he watched me, clearly amused. “A key?”

  “Oh, right.” I pulled out my key ring and took off the one he needed for the apartment door. “You need to wiggle it sometimes, but otherwise it works great. The diner is open most of the time. If you get locked out just call me and I can come let you in.”

  “Thanks.” He saluted me and turned away, but not toward the stairs. Instead, he left the diner and I watched his retreat with mild fascination. He was a mystery, and I was curious. Why had he become so sullen when I asked him about his purpose for being in Holly Springs? If that wasn’t a sign that something wasn’t right, then I was Taylor Swift.

  Which obviously, I wasn’t.

  “How long is he in town for?” Tessa asked, sidling up beside me.

  I shrugged. “Who knows? He wasn’t interested in a long-term lease, I’ll tell you that much.” I sighed. “I better get home. Watch these boxes for me? I’ll be back bright and early to get started on those cake pops.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Tessa said, sashaying toward the table of men in the corner. There was one reason these guys chose my cute little diner instead of The Pub for their evening entertainment, and she was chatting them up right now.

  Maybe I should have warned Jake about my waitress’s affinity for men.

  Oh well, he’d find out soon enough. If he hadn’t already.

  5

  Jake

  The sun hadn’t quite made an appearance when I laced up my running shoes, but by the time my feet hit the pavement it was just beginning to rise. I popped my earbuds in and ramped up the music, pushing myself faster with the beat of the song.

  Cutting between two brick buildings, I let my feet take me to the tree-lined street with the yellow house at the end. I didn’t go all the way down, of course. Grandma Hart would probably find it suspicious if I was continually caught outside of her house. I couldn’t help it, though. The visions of a childhood I could have lived played through my mind when I took in the idyllic street.

  Flipping back around, I sprinted away from the yellow house and all the potential that suffocated me. Reaching the end of the street, I turned right, following the long country road away from town and toward the Rocky Mountains. The air was so fresh I found myself gulping it in, though that could also be due to the higher altitude, making it harder to get a full breath of air. But still, it was so opposite the thick, smoggy city air I was used to breathing. Though, to be fair, I never ran outside in California. It was all air-conditioned gyms and a home treadmill for me.

  I could not deny how much I liked running in the open air with the sun warming my back. My feet pounded on the pavement as my stride lengthened, nothing but me and the empty country road.

  My watch beeped to indicate another mile and I turned, squinting into the rising sun. I put my arm up to block it a bit but it wasn’t really practical, so I dropped it again by my side.

  A loud horn suddenly honked to my right and I leapt from the road, crashing onto the rocky earth and rolling through rough, loose gravel.

  Well, that hurt.

  Rolling into a sitting position, I checked out the damage on my legs. My long pants had protected them for the most part, but a gash up the side of my knee was already seeping dark blood onto the white stripes on the side of my pants. Great, a nice big tear in my favorite jogging pants.

  “You okay?”

  When I turned to face the woman standing beside the truck, her delicate arm up to block the sun from her face, I could have laughed. Instead, I pulled myself to a stand and did my best not to limp in front of Madison Bell.

  “Just a little payback?” I asked.

  Her eyebrows drew together. “Of course not.”

  “So you ran me off the road on accident?” I could see her face tighten the more I spoke. Of course I didn’t believe she’d intentionally almost hit me, but I couldn’t help goading her. Our relationship had been laden with mishaps and it was nothing short of ironic that she had nearly run me from the road.

  Besides, a little line appeared in between her eyebrows when she was frustrated and it was invariably attractive.

  “Yes!” she answered, exasperated. “I didn’t see you. The sun was in my eyes.”

  I nodded slowly, doing my best to keep my face straight.

  She huffed. “Well, don’t believe me then. But it was an accident.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Great.”

  “Yep,” I agreed.

  We stood in the middle of the empty road and the chill set in from my lack of exercise. It might not have snowed yet in this town, but the weather was far from comfortable.

  “Can I give you a ride back?” she asked.

  My knee was in no shape to finish my run. But spending a few more minutes with this tenacious woman wasn’t an unpleasant prospect, either. I agreed and followed her to the old blue pickup truck parked in the middle of the road.

  Country music played on the radio. “No Christmas music?” I asked, clicking my seatbelt.

  She gave me a look. “No.”

  My hands came up in surrender. “Forget I asked. Hey, tell me one thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  Try not to sound so enthusiastic, lady. “I thought it snowed in the mountains.”

  I watched her face, the amusement she was clearly fighting felt like a massive win.

  “Well?” I prompted.

  “It does.”

  I looked out the window. It was dry as an LA summer. Just a lot colder.

  “Sometimes the snow doesn’t come until later in December, but it will come.” She fiddled with the radio buttons before adding, “It’s odd it’s still so dry, to be honest. It doesn’t really feel like Christmas yet.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said. “I’ve never seen snow.”

  She slammed on her brakes and my head came forward and smacked against the windshield. Ouch.

  “What?” she yelled. “You aren’t serious.”

  I touched the tender area of my temple which was now throbbing and shot her a look. “It’s not that weird.”

  “It’s super weird,” she countered. Her voice lowered. “Is your head okay?”

  No. It hurt like the devil. “Yeah.”

  Her gaze traveled from my forehead to my ripped pants. Her wince almost made the injuries worth it. Apologizing clearly did not come easily to Madison Bell.

  “Sorry about that,” she said sheepishly. I caught her eye for a split second, and she colored before turning her attention back to driving. We’d reached the edge of town and were almost back to the diner.

  “You can’t drive like that in the city,” I said. “Fourteen cars would have rear-ended you just now.” I snapped my fingers to emphasize my point.

  “Well, we aren’t in the city,” she said. “You couldn’t find fourteen cars here if you tried.”

  She sounded completely serious, but I watched Main Street out my window and counted ten right off the bat. I chuckled and she pulled into a space behind the diner.

  “Come in and I’ll help you clean that up,” she said, jumping from the car. “I’ve got a first aid kit
in the diner.”

  Did she not remember that I was coming in anyway? I was living above her diner.

  She went around to the bed of the truck and lowered the gate, lifting a box and taking it to the backdoor. “Hey, the door’s unlocked,” she said, glancing around. “That’s not good.”

  “It was me. I didn’t know how I’d get back in if I locked it behind me.”

  She eyed me dubiously for a moment before letting herself inside. What had she expected me to do? Wait inside until she arrived to let me out?

  I was a man, not a dog.

  Shaking my head, I followed her through the back kitchen and into the dining hall. The back kitchen was full of counter space and decked out in nice, solid ovens, but I’d only seen the diner employees using the stove behind the counter to cook. Was this space even properly utilized?

  “Just sit over there. I’ll grab the first aid kit.” She motioned to a high stool at the end of the bar and I obeyed. I glanced around the diner again, picturing it redone as a cupcake shop. It was actually a prime design for a boutique dessert shop, but it was good as a diner, too. It was clean and the decor was on point. But it hadn’t performed well in the last three years, so something clearly needed sprucing up.

  What was Madison’s marketing plan?

  “Can you roll up your pant leg?” she asked, coming out of the back room and pulling a chair up beside me. She took a scrunchy from her wrist and scraped her hair up into a high ponytail before securing it into a top knot. “And then set your leg up here.” She pulled another chair from the nearby table and sat it next to me.

  After wringing a warm, wet rag over the sink, she brought it over and began wiping blood from my skin. I tried not to wince as she cleaned up the cut. I didn’t want to look weak.

  My effort was fruitless, though. She focused her attention on my leg, not bothering to glance up at me at all. “How long are you planning on being here?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  She looked up. Skepticism lined her features. I didn’t want her to ask why I was here. I was not ready to make that known yet. She would kick me out of the apartment for sure if she knew that my main purpose in Holly Springs was to evict her.