Page 3 of A Very Grumpy Thanksgiving

I sigh and look up at the house again, trying to let go of my romantic daydreams about my grumpy neighbor and get back to work.

TWO

Nolan

She felt sodamn perfect in my arms.

That’s the first thought that hit me as I caught her; her body pressed up against mine for just a few seconds longer than it should have been. I was almost afraid to let go. Afraid that the moment I do, she willdisappear like some daydream I’ve had a thousand times before, but no, Saffron is very real.

Warm. Soft.

Perfect.

I grunt, setting her down as gently as I can, though I try not to linger, pulling my hands away like her skin might burn me. Her cheeks flush pink, and she mumbles a thank you, avoiding my gaze like I’m some sort of grumpy ogre instead of just a man who doesn’t know how the hell to talk to her.

That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? I’ve never known how to talk to women, and Saffron? She’s in a whole different league. A class of her own. Someone like me has no business even standing next to someone like her, let alone catching her off a ladder, like some kind of hero.

Not that she’s noticed me much. I’ve been in Wolf Valley for six months, but to her, I’ve just been the grumpy neighbor next door. Hell, she hardly even looked at me when she first moved in. She had her nose buried in one of those books she’s always reading. It was probably some romance where the guy knew exactly what to say, what to do, and how to win the girl.

Not like me.

I moved to Wolf Valley for the quiet. A fresh start. I needed to get away from... well, from everything. The noise, the pressure. Life back home had felt too loud, too crowded. I figured a small town in the middle of nowhere would suit me just fine. I didn’t need much, just some space, some solitude. But then Saffron bought the house next door.

I didn’t know what to think when I first saw her, moving boxes into that rundown house like it was some grand palace instead of the money pit it is. She was smiling, bright-eyed, and full of hope, while I stood there watching, arms crossed like the brooding idiot I am. And when I found out she’d just opened a bookstore in town a few months prior? Well, that about did me in.

Saffron Baker isn’t built for this place. Not for that house, not for the mess she’s gotten herself into. I could see it clear as day. She’s delicate, fragile, like some kind of dream you’re scared to touch because you might ruin it. And me? I’m a bull in a China shop, always have been. At close to six and a half feet tall, I’ve always towered over everyone and felt so out of place no matter where I was.

She thanks me again, her voice soft, and I grunt, nodding as I look away. “You should be more careful,” I manage, though it comes out harsher than I intend. She doesn’t need a lecture, but my nerves are shot, and I can’t get my thoughts straight with her standing so close. She stares up at me, biting her lip, and the blush on her cheeks deepens.

“What?” I ask, trying to sound normal, but failing miserably.

Her eyes widen, and she looks away quickly, flustered. “Nothing,” she stutters, and I can tell she’s lying. She’s thinking something, but I’m not good at reading people, especially not women like Saffron. I want to ask her what’s on her mind, but before I can, my phone rings, jarring me out of the moment.

I glance at the screen and groan inwardly. It’s my mom. Of course, it’s my mom.

“Uh, I’ve got to take this,” I say, excusing myself awkwardly, grateful for the distraction but also regretting it immediately. Saffron gives me a small nod, her eyes dropping back to the tools scattered around the yard, and I turn away, answering the call as I walk back to my side of the fence.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Nolan! About time you answered. I’ve been trying to reach you all week,” she says, her voice full of that motherly concern I know all too well.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” I lie, glancing back toward Saffron, who’s already fiddling with something near the ladder, trying to clean up after her little roofing adventure.

“Well, I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to ask you if you were planning on coming home for Thanksgiving?”

I stiffen. Thanksgiving. Right. I’d been trying to avoid this conversation. My mom had been on a kick lately, always trying to set me up with someone from her church or one of her friends’ daughters. It was getting exhausting making up excuses to avoid them.

“I don’t know, Ma. I might be... busy,” I say, not committing to anything. I can practically hear her narrowing her eyes at me through the phone.

“Busy? On Thanksgiving?”

I run a hand through my hair, glancing back at Saffron again. She’s messing with a screwdriver now, completely oblivious tothe fact that my stomach is in knots. “Yeah, actually. I might be spending it with my girlfriend,” I blurt out without thinking. The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to smack myself.

Girlfriend? Really, Nolan?

My mom goes silent on the other end of the line, and I can already tell I’ve just opened a can of worms I won’t be able to close.

“Girlfriend?” she asks, her voice pitched with excitement. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier? Who is she?”

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