Page 23 of A Love Like Christmas Time
“There’s this young woman in town,” I finally say, after Jensen has stopped trying to lick my face. “She seems familiar, but it’s not coming to me.”
When I glance up, I see him furrowing his brows. “I think I know who you mean. Brown hair, black-rimmed glasses and a red coat?” I nod. It’s reassuring to hear that he noticed her too.
“Yeah. With the last time strangers turned up here, I’m apprehensive.” I run my hands through Jensen’s fur one more time before I get up.
“She came in here three days ago, looked at me funny and thenboltedoutside as if she’d seen a ghost. But she’s been coming here every day since then, sitting in the corner by the plants, and only ordering from Shawna.” I scratch my neck. She’s usually here when it’s too busy to keep an eye on her, but I can sense her watching me. “Something feels off.”
“Do you want me to ask around? Surely someone from Wayward Hollow can tell us more about her?”
“No.” I shake my head and draw my shoulders up, hoping for the muscles in my back to relax. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“If you say so.” He shrugs but continues to eye me with a worried frown. “Tell me if you change your mind. If she’s stalking you, we should loop in Erik.”
“Henry, don’t make a mountain out of a molehill. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
He frowns, clearly not believing me. Even Jensen seems like he’s had enough and is ready to call me out on my bullshit.
“Sure. I won’t.” He reaches for his coffee and takes a sip. “For now.”
“Do you already know what you’re doing for the Christmas market?” Henry is back just before I close up, sitting in his usual spot. He’s got dark bags under his eyes, and his complexion rivals the milk in his coffee. That probably means he had to deal with horses today, which he’s really not a fan of, to say it mildly.
I give him a blank stare.
“Like every year, I will keep the café open for all the freezing folks who want to come in for a hot drink and to escape the nasty cold,” I reply dryly.
Henry shakes his head, pursing his lips. “You’re missing out on all the fun!”
“The fun of standing in the cold for hours and freezing my feet off? No thanks.”
He takes another sip of his coffee and purses his lips. “It’s one of the downsides, sure, but put on some thick wool socks and you’ll be fine.”
“I’d rather not.” I roll my eyes and reach for a cloth to wipe down the counter.
The dishwasher is running in the kitchen with a steady hum, everything else already shut down and cleaned. Once it has finished and I put everything away, I should be good to go home.
But suddenly my doorbell announces another person entering.
“We’re closed.” I say gruffly, but freeze when I realize it's Lauren who enters. She’s wearing a bright red coat, tailored to her waist before falling in an easy flare down to her knees, trimmed with soft white along the cuffs, hood, and hem.
Fuck. I want to be annoyed with her, pissed about her leaving, but that coat is too ridiculous to even think about that. It makes her look as if she’s Santa Claus’s daughter. I can’t even be mad. “Why are you dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood?”
“Hey!” Lauren scolds me with mock outrage. “It’s fashion.” She does a twirl, making the flared fabric flurry through the air. “And it’s cute! Perfect to get into a Christmas mood.”
That’s when I notice the box she’s holding in her hands and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I ask slowly.
She completely ignores me. “Oh, hi Jensen.” Lauren sets down the box, and then leans down to greet Henry’s dog, who is equally enthusiastic to see her.
“Henry, can you be a darling?” She blinks up at him with her big blue eyes and a grin that has the promise of shenanigans written all over it.
“That depends.” Henry narrows his eyes at her, clearly skeptical too.
She reaches into her pocket, pulls out her car keys and throws them at him. “I have a few boxes in my car. Could you help me carry them inside? You have such nice, long arms that are just soperfectfor carrying boxes. Ipromise they’re not too heavy.”
Henry rolls his eyes, seeing right through her honey-sweet voice, but takes her keys. “I’m parked in front of the flower shop.” She shouts after him.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask her, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
