Page 22 of Mistletoe Kisses

There wasn’t an ounce of insincerity in her words. She regarded me like I was some sort of heaven-sent bookstore savior. I would’ve given anything to get a fraction of that praise from my former boss, or his boss, or her boss, or, heck, my colleagues. I’d worked so hard at Winchester Publishing, and all I could show for it was a severance package.

“Thank you. I can’t take credit for the idea though.”

Karen waved her hand and scoffed. “There’s no such thing as new ideas. What matters is the right idea at the right time, and you got here when Ron needed it. ” She turned to the sandwich board. “That looks great.”

I’d never considered myself more than a casual doodler. She was probably saying that to be nice. All I’d done was draw some holly in the corners and tried to make twinkle lights with some text about the book event.

Once my nervous system began to regulate from her unexpected arrival, I noticed a delicious, savory aroma wafting from a soft-sided cooler hanging from her shoulder. She must’ve noticed me looking at it because she smiled and pulled it off her shoulder.

“I brought you both lunch. Least I could do with the help you’ve been giving us. Poor Ronnie is always alone in here. We were never blessed with kids we could bribe to help him at the store.” She let out a light laugh.

My stomach growled. I’d been so focused on my project that I hadn’t noticed it was lunchtime. The B&B continental breakfast had been hours ago.

Ron came around the counter, sniffing like a bloodhound. She laughed and handed him the bag. “Plenty of stew in there for both of you. Crusty bread and butter too. Make sure Arlo gets some.”

My mouth watered.

Ron smiled sheepishly. “I get feral when it comes to her food.” He turned to the sandwich board and then clapped me on the shoulder. “Sign looks great, my boy.”

The casual paternal gesture nearly brought me to my knees. I’d gotten that from Keaton’s dad and occasionally my grandpa, but he wasn’t very affectionate. My mom took after him.

“We’re nearly there. Books are wrapped, I’m almost done dusting the shelves, and you’ve made this great sign. Why don’t you head out and enjoy your vacation? You could take the food to the park and enjoy the day. Or you’re welcome to eat in the office with me.”

After unexpectedly meeting my aunt, I appreciated the reprieve. I wanted to sit in my rental car for a while and decompress. “Thanks for the lunch. It smells delicious. I’ll be back this evening.” When I would get to see Lucas again. That thought sent a jolt of electricity through me. I couldn’t believe he’d been kind enough to offer to join me tonight, especially after working his shift. I wasn’t sure what he got out of spending time with me. I felt like a bore on my best days and an anxious mess on my worst.

“We’ll see you then,” Karen said, smiling.

Ron pulled out two containers, a spoon, and a paper towel, put them in one of the store’s bags, then handed it to me. They said their goodbyes, and Karen pulled a notepad from her purse and began going over a shopping list with him as I walked out.

I gripped the bag and walked to my car parallel parked a few stores down on Main Street. I walked through the drizzling rain and shoved my free hand in my pocket to combat the chill. As soon as I got into my car, an enticing, hearty scent filled the space. The smell grew stronger as I removed the containers from the bag and opened the lid on the stew. It was stuffed with beef chunks, carrots, green beans, and potatoes swimming in a thick broth.

The first bite melted in my mouth. The beef fell apart like when Keaton’s mom made pot roast in the slow cooker for Christmas. After a few bites, a familiar, worrying flutter began in my chest. A kind woman had taken time out of her day to make sure I was fed, and all I’d done was lie to her and her husband. As my grandma always said, a lie of omission was still a lie.

My breaths grew quicker as my thoughts swirled in a jumbled mess. I needed help. I needed Keaton. The prospect of bothering him made my stomach twist, but I knew he’d be upset if I didn’t reach out when I needed him. So I called.

I shoved another spoonful of food into my mouth.

“Hey, you. What’s up?”

“I’m freaking out.” But it sounded more likeI’m frigging aht.

“Going to need you to try that one again. Try swallowing first.” He started laughing. “That’s what he said.”

I was too far gone to laugh. “I’m freaking out.”

“How come?”

“I met my aunt.”

“Wow! That’s amazing! I’m so glad you told her. How’d she take it?”

I stayed quiet.

“Ah. Are you okay?” There was no judgment, only love, in his tone.

“I don’t know,” I said around a mouthful of bread. God, it was so good.

“I say this knowing you can’t turn off your anxiety, and it’s not a logical thing, but I also know you well enough to know that sometimes you need to hear something directly.”

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