Page 1 of Candy Kisses with the Mountain Man
Chapter 1
Candy
Pulling up in my little Suzuki Jimny, I give her a little pat on the dash. Gertie, as I named her, is old, has a few dents and rust damage and is on her last legs, but she got us here to yet another festival, towing my little pink coffee trailer behind her all the way.
Together we’ve been to car races, medieval festivals, craft fairs, dog parks, all over the country. I struggle out, stretch my legs and take a deep breath in the cold, crisp mountain air. Christmas is my favorite time of year and a small mountain town seems like the perfect place to be.
Tomorrow is the Starfall Valley Christmas Festival and my trailer is loaded up with fresh baked Christmas cookies, muffins, mini cakes, macarons, madeleines and tiny cup cakes.
Sure, I’d love to have my own bakery, but as dad used to say, it doesn’t matter if the glass is half full or half empty, if you’ve got a glass then you’ve got something to be grateful for. And I have Gertie and my trailer, so I’m grateful.
When I’m at home I live in a tiny studio apartment. Single bed. One small window. But I have a kitchen so I can bake and I’m grateful for that. And on the road I get to watch people enjoy my sweet treats. I get to watch as loved ones share kisses, parents offer their kids cookies that look like Santa or reindeers. I get to enjoy those smiles. That’s my glass half full.
I lock up the car and set off down the street. Starfall Valley. Small mountain town. Done up right for Christmas. I do a little skip as I walk along. Big, beautiful garlands strung up between the street lights. Shop windows full of fairy lights, the orange glow reflected in the puddles on the sidewalk.
Christmas. The happiest time of the year. I’ve seen my share of small towns, Christmas villages, fairs and festivals. I love it when a town goes all out in celebration. People I pass on the street look happy. Children are excited for Christmas morning. And a bunch of us stall holders are in town for the Christmas events. There is a buzz of excitement in the air.
Full of Christmas cheer, I feel like a celebration drink and so I head towards the bar. A cute and friendly bartender gives me a smile.
“Have you got something Christmassy?” I ask.
“I can fix you a Christmas cocktail if you give me a minute.”
A few minutes later my eyes go wide as he presents me with a large cocktail glass, red at the bottom, then a layer of green and topped off with whipped cream. Red and green straws sticking out to the side. I let out a laugh as I take a sip. It’s sweet, like marshmallows. Definitely vodka in there.
“It’s perfect.”
The bartender smiles.
“You’re not going to drink that are you?” I look over down the end of the bar. A man sits there, half in shadow, his elbow up on the bar, head resting on his hand as he watches me.
I take another sip and grin. “This one and maybe a few more.”
The bartender fills up the man’s glass. Whiskey, straight. It’s a drink that seems to suit the mystery man, sitting in the dark corner with his deep voice, broad shoulders.
“Don’t mind my brother, Jackson. He’s in a mood.” The bartender gives me a wink.
“A Christmas mood?” I ask.
Both men scoff. I can see the similarities between them. Both with sandy blonde hair. But whereas the bartender has his charming smile, the man in the shadows, Jackson, looks far more serious.
I watch as he gets up and moves closer. Whoa. I thought the bartender was attractive. This man is tall, he wears his Sheriff uniform like it was tailored just for him. The rough stubble does nothing to hide his sharp jawline.
His hair looks in need of a haircut, curling a little around his collar. As he sits down next to me, I take in the green eyes. Large hands, strong arms. An air of authority that makes my heart beat faster. Or is it the alcohol and sugar making me fanciful?
“Jackson.” He says in way of an introduction.
I tip my glass towards him in acknowledgement. “Candy.”
He raises an eyebrow. “A name as sweet as that drink. And what brings you to town?”
I like his voice. Deep and gruff and masculine. I’m acutely aware of his long legs, his knee almost touching my calf as I sit perched on the bar stool.
I’m not used to a lot of male attention. I’m a few dress sizes too big, don’t care about hair or make-up and I can be a little shy. I like to think of myself as an observer. I watch people. I’ve watched women get picked up in bars, but it’s never been me.
The Christmas cocktail has me feeling cheeky and restless. Both Jackson and his brother are watching me. And, even as I feel my cheeks go red, I have to admit I like the attention.
Chapter 2
