Page 7 of Second Chances with St. Nick

All the moisture left my mouth. “I…well, um…” I cursed my sluggish brain. Perhaps I should add “eloquence under pressure” to my Christmas wish list.

He didn’t even wait for my response. Instead, he looked at his feet and bustled out of the door without another word.

Mom gaped at him like a hungry baby bird, and she gave her head a quick shake. “Well. How rude. He couldn’t have high-tailed it out of here any faster.”

My stomach churned. Nick wasn’t rude—more like terrified. I recognized his tight jaw. Some things never changed. And if not terrified, he must hate me—probably couldn’t stand being in the same room. But how could I blame him? I hurt him. Maybe I should accept that Nick forgiving me was out of the question.

Despite the heat being turned up to the max, an icy shiver ran over me. After Cissy’s wedding, I’d head back to the coast and restart my life. Find a new direction, a fresh purpose, and bury the uncomfortable feelings seeing Nick brought.

Taking a breath, I exhaled through pursed lips. It turned out I wasn’t over my first love, but it was time to let him go. As I stared at the space he’d occupied in the doorway, my pulse jumped in my veins.

Maybe my heart hadn’t gotten the memo.

4

SHOTS AND SHIVERS

Ipushed open the door of The Timberline, Pine Springs’ liveliest watering hole. A wall of warmth hit my cheeks, and the clamor of chatter and laughter washed over me. I ran my eyes over the dark interior with its pine paneling, the array of drink bottles stacked over the bar and the glow of pea-lights that reflected off the glass. I smiled. Some things in town never changed.

I hadn’t been here in years. Dad used to bring us to eat and watch sports with him. But the smell of the old place was the same—beer, fries and wood.

I shrugged out of my thick jacket and pulled off my pink beret. Mom said its angora was too “California” for Pine Springs. But I spent my afternoon down in the next town, Pine Pass, trying on my bridesmaid’s dress. I didn’t want the ladies at the dressmakers to think I didn’t know my satin from my silk. My denim from my damask. I needn’t have worried. Cissy had picked out the most beautiful forest green dress for me. With my long red curls, I looked like a woodland goddess.

I ran my eyes over the wall of flannel-clad backs at the bar. I heard Cissy and her friends before I saw them. They huddledtogether, giggling over something in my cousin’s hands. A piece of bright wrapping paper flew into the air, followed by a squeal of delight. The bachelorette celebrations had kicked off, then.

I stepped forward and tapped my cousin on the shoulder. She spun around, coming to a stop in front of me. She wielded a sparkly pink vibrator in her hand.

“Abbie!” she shrieked, her eyes bright and alive. “You came!”

I ran my eyes over her “weaponry.” “Looks like you might do the same later.”

Her eyes widened before she dissolved into giggles, launching at me with her arms outstretched. I was pleased to see her too, but it wasn’t every day a tipsy woman bearing a magic wand manhandled me.

When she let go, I nodded toward her gift. “Maybe you should put that down. You’ll be a married woman in a couple of days. You don’t want folks to question Harry’s skills, do you? Small towns love to gossip.”

With another tinkling laugh, she handed her wand to a woman wearing a sparkly tiara. Cissy weaved an arm around my shoulders, her eyes bright and alive. “You look a little flushed, but I love that blue on you. You look like a sapphire on legs.”

“Is that a good thing?” I asked. I’d picked out a high-neck blue dress with a cinched waist that skirted my thighs.

She winked at me. “I’d say so. My rules say your first drink has to be the same color as your outfit.”

I curled a brow. “Blue?”

“Sure, hang on.” Cissy threw me a thumbs up and disappeared back into the throng at the bar.

I folded my jacket over my arm and moved to hang it up on the pegs at the side of the room. As I did, the crowd’s noise lulled momentarily, and the sound of a strumming guitar reached my ears. A guitar, and something else. Something highand haunting. A prickle ran over my shoulders, and I peeked around the corner.

There on the stage stood Nick, violin tucked under his chin.

His eyes were closed as he played along with the guitarist. He swayed a little as his notes soared and his face was a picture of pure concentration and intensity. He looked lost in the music.

His flannel shirt pulled open slightly at the top where he’d undone a few buttons. A light smattering of sandy hair peeped from beneath the fabric, and my breath faltered at the sight of him. His ponytail was untethered, and his hair brushed over his face as he moved to the music.

Nick’s fingers danced over the strings like raindrops skipping on a windowsill. I pulled in a shallow breath. Did I imagine those same fingers gliding and dancing anywhere else? You bet I did. I was only human after all, and Nick was a thousand things I’d never imagined.

I bit my bottom lip as I watched, half hoping, half dreading that he’d see me. But as the song ended, I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

At the end of his last note, Nick opened his eyes, finding me with laser precision. Like he’d known I’d be standing there. Something flashed within their hazel depths, and he pulled his violin from his shoulder, holding it against his chest.

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