Page 35 of Second Chance Christmas

Aspen leaned his weight forward on the handle of his cart and slid Ivy a side-eye look that summed up their entire day in the span of a heartbeat. “I’ll second that.”

Ivy snagged a couple of wine bottles and stashed one under each arm.

A smirk played with the edges of Aspen’s lips as he gestured a hand toward his cart. She slipped them in and before she could talk herself out of it went back for two bottles this time whiskey. “No judging,” she said when a smirk pulled at his lips.

“Not a fucking peep if you invite me to whatever party you’re throwing. Hands down it’s going to be better than the lonely night I have set up,” he reassured her.

“Ya know something, it’s almost a damn shame to let them think we’re not onto them.” Ivy side-stepped that trap like a pro. “Cruel since their best efforts are going in the trash alongside the fruitcake.”

She snapped her gaze to his. “I keep telling everyone, but I don’t think anyone is listening. I won’t be here long enough for their plan to work anyway. Besides, did any of them think to ask what I wanted? What you want? No. It’s not like there’s anything between us.”

“So,haveyou thought of an excuse on how you’re going to ditch me and the town’s square Christmas party tomorrow night?”

Ivy took a deep breath and laughed at how he always cut right through any awkwardness and dove in headfirst. “I’m not leavingthatfast.” Or not at all if she didn’t get back to the inn before noon. “I’ve only come up with a couple of excuses so far. But,” she held up a finger to tap the side of her head. “I know I can do better by dinnertime tonight.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” His voice was low and his lips peeled back in a smooth, easy smile.

“Aspen Kennedy, are you inviting me to dinner again?” Ivy arched her brow.

“I do happen to get hungry around six and there are only so many meals you can share with a bunch of rowdy firemen. Your messy braid and planner would be a sight for some very sore eyes.”

He reached over and gave the end a soft tug.

She stepped closer. “My planner, huh?” He made it sound as though it was a bad habit.

“I’ll admit the way you write in that thing with such passion has me intrigued.”

Oh.

“Don’t look so perplexed. I like different. You should know that. When everyone else is staring at tiny screens and looking for the next bell or whistle you go old-school. I always liked that about you.”

She never thought of it that way. “Is that all that has you intrigued?” Ivy stifled the urge to smack her forehead. She hadn’t meant to ask the question but it was out before she should shove her foot in her mouth.

Aspen pulled to a stop mid-aisle and she raised her gaze to his. “Not at all, Ivy Sunday.” He leaned in until she could see the golden specks in his brown eyes.

He stroked a finger along her jaw and she was right back on the eve of her wedding night filled with excitement and fear of the future.

“Say you’ll have dinner with me. Please? Or are you going to make me work harder for it?” His voice took a sexy, roughened dip and sent a chill of excitement along over her body.

He slowly straightened but kept his gaze fixed on hers. “While you think about it, care to share at least one of the excuses you’ve come up with on how to dodge Dixcemberfest and Mrs. December’s kitchen remodel? So I can counter it properly later, of course.”

She blinked in confusion at the rapid change of subject. Excuses? “Oh, the town part? I’m not showing my hand that easily.” She quickly regained her composure and brushed off the rush of excitement that threatened to take over. What was she? Still in high school? No control over how he made her body react with a simple brush of a finger?

His low-rumbling laugh was contagious with how much easygoing small-town energy he worked into the warming sound. Some people just knew how tonotlet anything bother them.

Not her. And a point that made them such a great couple once upon a time. He balanced out her crazy big-city energy.

Aspen pressed a hand to the small of her back and guided them around to the other side of the vegetables and gathered enough potatoes to feed a small army. Next went in cloves of garlic and some red bell pepper. She wouldn’t read anything into the small gesture no matter how fast her mind wanted to click over to the loving, caring touch. He had always protected those around him. Sometimes the gestures were small, like now. And other times he’d gone the extra mile to help others.

It was in his nature as much as it was in hers to notice the small things. And she so easily fell into the safety he provided. She did it in high school and if she didn’t grow some steel in her backbone she would fall all over again. That couldn’t—wouldn’t—happen. Not again. Dixen, Alaska, the big dix man himself and everything about this place had no room in her life anymore.

Aspen pushed aside the cart and between the cabbage and squash pulled her into his arms. Old habits had her cheek resting over his heart and her hands wrapping around his middle. What was she just telling herself about steel backbones?

“What has you so worried, sweetheart? Talk to me.”

He stroked a hand down her hair.

Her eyes dipped closed. Just a second wouldn’t hurt anything. All those nights of questioning her sanity about walking on him came tumbling back. What the hell had she been so scared of back then? Being trapped in a small town was the short, albeit dumb answer.

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