Page 4 of A Love Like Christmas Time
I know it. And I’m determined to catch a glimpse of him, with the help of my natural charm and hard-trained ability to annoy the bejeezus out of people.
“That’s why I didn’t bring pumpkin spice syrup,” I point out as my fingers wrap around the cold glass. I pull it out, set the huge bottle on the table and shoot him a triumphant smirk.What can I say? They only had the 1.5-liter bottle available. “I brought gingerbread syrup.”
A murderous glimmer appears in his narrow eyes, and his face turns so red I’m afraid he’s about to explode. It looks hilarious, like he’s a character in an old Tom & Jerry episode.
“Oh God, Lauren, I love you.” My best friend Nic bursts into laughter on the other side of the table, while Kieran, the newfound friend of our little clique, lets out an impressed whistle.
“I can’t believe it.” Caleb curses and runs his palm over his face, keeping it over his eyes as he fights for composure.
“You’re oddly fixated on how people drink their coffee. I think you need to practice minding your own business,” I playfully scold him, putting as much dramatic worry in my voice as I can. As a, now former, actress, that’s not too hard. Wordlessly, he turns around and walks back to the front of his café.
“At this point you’re keeping his café open single-handedly—or wallet-ly,” Henry, Nic’s boyfriend, points out with a chuckle. He’s the town’s vet who stole Nic’s heart with those topaz eyes, only weeks after we moved here. His sand-colored hair is swept back, slightly tousled as if Nic ran her fingers through it, and one of his dark-red sweater-clad arms is on the back of her chair. “I bet that’s the only reason he hasn’t kicked you out for good yet.”
“I’d like to think it’s because of my charm,” I retort with a wink, opening the bottle and pouring a generous amount of the sugary liquid into my latte macchiato. “Also, I wouldn’t be doing this if he had a few basic options,” I point out as I stir the mixture, “you know, vanilla or hazelnut. But since I have to supply them myself, I might as well go for fancy.”
“And I love you for it,” Nic says with a dreamy gleam in her eyes, making grabby hands toward the bottle.
“As his best customer, maybe I should call in an intervention and make him put fancy drinks on the menu. Or decorate the café for Christmas.” I twist the bottle closed again. “Here you go. Come to the dark side.” I slide it over the table, and Nic’s grin widens. Taking a hefty sip of my coffee, I exhale a deep, happy sigh. “Yes, that’s perfect.”
“Isn’t it a bit early for gingerbread though? It’s not even past Thanksgiving,” Kieran wonders, his perfectly shaped black eyebrow amusedly rising to his equally perfect dark hairline. Rather than replying, I narrow my eyes at him until I see his six-foot-three frame shrink under my glare. “Okay, I get it. It’s never too early to get into the Christmas spirit.”
God, Kieran is the best. His appearance might make him seem like the baddest boy of Wayward Hollow. He’s got tattoos reaching up his neck and some even extending to his fingers and usually wears a black leather jacket, along with skull jewelry. But in reality, he’s probably the biggest sweetheart in town.
“He’s not completely wrong,” Nic points out, and my glare jumps to her. Only she returns it with an amused glint in her eyes and crosses her arms in front of her chest.
“Okay, first of all, I don’t think Christmas spirit everleavesto begin with,” I declare, pointing my finger at her, fully aware that I’m making a fool of myself. But I don’t care. What else would I have friends for? “It’s always here.” I add with an overly emotional tremble in my voice and clutch my shirt right over my heart.
“Also, if you judge me for pulling out the gingerbread syrup before Thanksgiving…” I continue with my regular voice and reach for the bottle. “You can get your own syrup.”
“I take it back, I take it back,” Nic quickly says, grabbing onto the bottle and hugging it to her chest.
“That’s what I thought.”
Her lips purse in a pout while she twists it open and dumps a good amount into her own coffee.
Moving here with Nic is the best thing I’ve ever done. When Nic was at her lowest, I proposed a new start for both of us. She had just caught her fiancé in bed with her sister, right after she quit acting to focus on the wedding and building a family. And me? The mixture of crazy work hours and fame had become suffocating, and I realized I'd lost myself.
Not only was I not happy anymore. I forgot what happiness was supposed to feel like.
There I was, always striving for the next best, the bigger thing, without taking a second to enjoy my achievements. Thanks to the fear of disappointing my family and trying to make them see me. Unsuccessfully.
So before my body decided to give out, I decided it was time to stop.
Somewhere between the second tub of peanut butter cup ice cream and the fourth cocktail after Nic broke up with her fiancé and disowned her family, I found an ad for the most adorable lakeside villas. We fell in love at first sight. A few weeks of handling paperwork and packing up followed. And now we’re here.
Wayward Hollow. The most charming little town, tucked between mountains, a lake and acres of forest that turn the most stunning colors in the fall.
It turns out this town was exactly what we needed. Within a week of arriving, both of us realized we fit into this town perfectly. Nic fell in love with Henry, though I’m eighty-five percent sure he was already head over heels for her by that point.
And I fell back in love with… life.
With slow mornings, that hold no fear of being on the front page of some gossip magazine or constant validation seeking. With human interaction and doing things myself instead of taking the easy way and hiring someone. With being awayfrom my phone more often and doing something useful with my time.
Wayward Hollow and its people welcomed us with open arms. There were no expectations. Ever since everyone warmed up to us, there have only been smiles and warmth.
That’s what happens when the outcasts of families come together, I guess.
Nic, who got betrayed by those closest to her. Now she’s sitting opposite me, her wavy golden hair in a loose ponytail. A happy glow is on her face as she leans against her boyfriend, all but radiating with love and contentment. And who can blame her? I’d be beaming too if I got myself her hunk of a boyfriend. He’s kind and more attractive than a damned Ralph Lauren model with his swept-back sand-blonde hair and sharp jawline.
