Page 8 of Havoc for the Holidays

“Have you been conspiring with Lincoln? He said something very similar.” I narrowed my eyes at my screen with a scowl. “I should be using this time to study, or get a second job, or doing something with Becs. God, this was a bad idea. I feel like a terrible parent—”

“Now, listen here son!” My father's face appeared in front of the phone. “Quit your shit. You're a great father to our baby girl. But great fathers also take care of themselves. Now stop carrying on and go get’em, tiger.”

“Oh God,” I groaned again, covering my face with my hand. “That's so embarrassing. You're both embarrassing.”

“Yes, because we love you. You'll spend the rest of your lifetime embarrassing Becs. It's one of the great joys of parenthood. Now hang up the phone and go see that young man you did your hair up nice for.” My mother blew a kiss to the screen. “Call later! I want all the details!”

“God, no. No details. I'm hanging up now. Love you guys.”

“Good luck baby! We love you!”

I hung up before my cheeks exploded. The crisp air outside my car was a welcome reprieve for my overheated face. Leave it to my parents to make my nerves worse instead of better. It took a full six deep breaths before my hands stopped shaking enough that I could reapply my lip balm. Only because it was breezy, of course. No one wanted chapped lips.

The walk to the coffee shop was a short one. Snacks-n-Sips was part of the bedrock of the community and had been for as long as I could remember. The corner location at the heart of the town made it a convenient meeting spot, but I was most excited for the treats inside. It was rare that I got the opportunity to splurge like this. The hot cider special alone would make dipping into the savings worth every penny.

I paced in front of the old building and busied myself with admiring the window boxes overflowing with pumpkins and gourds and ornamental cabbages. Soon, the rich warm colors of autumn would be replaced with evergreens and red berries galore. I smiled at the thought as I walked back and forth to expel my nerves through movement.

“You are cute as a button in that scarf.”

I gasped in surprise and pivoted toward the voice behind me. He caught me pacing like a caged animal. Just great.

“Who—what… you mean this? Th-thank you,” I mumbled, compulsively reaching up to touch the garment in question. I'd tried a little extra to look nice today, so I'd pulled out my faux shearling canvas jacket and burgundy brown striped scarf. It was likely overboard, but the fact that he'd noticed had the predictable warmth of my blush infusing my cheeks. “You look… perfect.”

Despite how much it sounded like an exaggeration, he really did look perfect. As if he'd stepped off the runway at New York Fashion Week directly onto this corner of our small town. Distressed dark wash jeans, chunky boots, a short bomber jacketand dark sunglasses pushed up to hold back his ebony hair made for an ensemble too impeccable not to be curated by a designer.

He approached slowly with a subtle smile. “Thank you. Are you excited to play tour guide, Oliver?”

He lifted a hand to flick an errant curl from my eyes, his smile growing larger every second. It took all my willpower to not shiver from the featherlight touch and the sinful way he insisted on murmuring my full name. It had never sounded so good until he said it with his low, buttery-smooth purr. I was in all sorts of trouble and we’d only been together for five seconds.

“Y-yes. Um…” I swallowed around the sudden tightness in my throat. “Do you… would you perhaps… um…”

I jerked my thumb toward the door to the coffee shop with a nervous laugh. He chuckled, the corners of his eyes creasing as he wrapped both of his hands around my bicep. He had to step so close to do so, I feared I might faint. “Yes, I'd love to. My treat.”

“O-oh… um, okay?” We walked arm-in-arm to the front door and I slipped free to hold it open for him. He might insist on buying, but I was raised to be a gentleman. He winked as he entered before me and once more, heat rose up my face until I was sure I burned as brightly red as a stop sign.

The interior of Snacks-n-Sips was as warm and inviting as always, unchanged over the last two decades and then some. Mismatched tables, chairs, and small couches filled the space, surrounded on two sides by the large windows whose flower boxes I'd been admiring outside. Newspaper clippings in tiny, eclectic frames covered every inch of available wall space, highlighting milestones big and small that spanned the entire history of the town and its residents. The opposite wall was home to a number of espresso machines and drink stations behind an old farmhouse table that served as the checkout counter. Flanking the counter, glass display cases of bakedgoods and small snacks filled the room with delectable, mouth watering aromas that caused my stomach to audibly growl.

“Someone’s hungry.” Ezechiel’s fingertips frisked over my stomach and brought a peel of laughter to my lips so suddenly, I didn't have time to stifle the sound.

“Yes. I might have been a bit… absentminded this morning.”

“I think it's adorable you're so nervous.” Ezechiel gathered my arm in his again and moved us toward the first display counter. “Tell me about the secret menu. Surely this place has a secret menu.”

“More of a seasonal menu. November means pumpkin spice and apples galore.” I tapped the display where the miniature apple pies were stacked. “Those are delicious. I'm partial to the pumpkin roll, myself.”

“You're more of a cinnamon roll, in my mind.” Ezechiel tugged us closer to the counter as I fumbled over my words and stumbled over my feet. “And what to drink?”

“The hot cider. It wouldn't be a proper walking tour without hot apple cider.” I tilted my head toward the chalkboard menu hanging high on the back wall. “They have something for everyone, though.”

Ezechiel stole a glance with a bright smile. “Noted.”

“Hello, Ollie! How have you been?” Mary Whyte, the current owner of the generations-old coffee shop, appeared behind the till with a bright smile. Her salt-and-pepper brown hair was pulled into a curly bun, calling more attention to the warmth in her honey brown eyes. “And who do we have here?”

“This is… um, Ezechiel. My…?” Sweat beaded on my brow as my tongue tied itself in knots.Friend? Daughter's teacher? Date?My mind ran a million miles an hour.

“Ezechiel Billings, Judy’s son. Ollie’s being an angel and helping me get settled in town,” he supplied with his easygoing charm and effortless confidence. The tightening of his griparound my arm did not go unnoticed by the keen eyed woman who’d known me since the day I was born.

“Ollie is an angel. I'm very glad he offered to help you out. What can I get you boys?” Her smile took on a mischievous edge as she folded her hands primly on the counter.

---