He stopped short just before running into her. “Oh! Hey.” He shook his head to clear it, but the hurt in her deep brown eyes wasn’t a trick of the light. Well, back atcha. He wasn’t the one who had kissed her and practically run away.

  “Was that it?” Charlie started to cross her arms, that defensive move she always made when trying to protect herself, then seemed to realize she held a cup of coffee. She took a sip instead, but the movement did little to hide her shaky hands. “Is it over?”

  She was a spy. A beautiful spy, but still a spy. He frowned. “That was a private meeting.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “In a public space.”

  “What was I going to do, invite Mark to my room at the Hummingbird Inn for tea?” Blake ran his hand down his face. He didn’t have time for Charlie’s games, not with everything still unspoken between them. He sort of wanted to kiss her again. And he sort of wanted to walk...no, run after Mark to ask him to reconsider...yet on top of all that, he couldn’t deny the generous measure of relief that, despite the pending consequences, this deal was currently out of his hands.

  For a minute, he could stop being the bad guy.

  Then the guardedness in her eyes shifted a little, revealing a vulnerable look he’d never been able to handle well with Charlie. It was the look that made him want to protect her, shelter her, buy her pieces of jewelry...specifically one for her left ring finger.

  But he’d missed that chance years ago.

  “Look, I didn’t know you’d be meeting him here. I was making a delivery.” She drew a ragged breath. “But since you are here—is that it for Paradise Paws? Do I need to call Rachel and give her a heads-up?”

  Blake studied the brave tilt of her chin, the barely contained anxiety in her eyes, the stubborn push of her shoulders, and his heart stammered. Was she really going to ignore the fact that she’d smacked a big one on him under the mistletoe yesterday and then never said another word?

  He really didn’t owe her an explanation about anything. This was a business deal that didn’t concern her directly—indirectly, sure, but that wasn’t and had never been his fault.

  Of course, he was the one currently keeping a major secret from her about Tori. Guilt niggled, and he finally conceded. “Nothing is official yet.”

  Her stiff posture sagged. “Really?”

  “Mark needs time to consider.” He adjusted the bag strap on his shoulder. “Is there anything else?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it, shifting her coffee to her other hand. “Maybe we should talk.”

  Finally. If they’d ignored the elephant between them any longer, it would have needed a Santa hat. “I agree.”

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. His breath hitched, and he willed himself to stand still and not pull her into his arms. There wasn’t any mistletoe today, but beyond that, he had to quit remembering what it’d been like to kiss her. Surely, she was going to express something along the same lines—the kiss had been a mistake.

  Though his heart begged to differ.

  She finally spoke. “The girls at Tulip House have decided to play matchmaker with us.”

  He paused. “Okay...”

  “I just wanted you to be forewarned. Who knows what they’ll try next?” She laughed, avoiding his gaze. “Silly, huh? If they only knew.”

  Wait. “Knew our current dynamic? Or knew our history?” He tilted his head, unsure which answer he hoped she’d give. But it didn’t really matter, did it? He wasn’t foolish enough to believe he’d ever have another chance with Charlie, after all that stood between them. He was the bad guy. She’d made it abundantly clear.

  And he was bound for a jet plane.

  “Both.” She focused on her coffee, rubbing her finger over the lid. She shrugged. “Either.”

  He might not ever have the liberty to kiss her again, but he couldn’t handle going back to Colorado without her friendship. As much as being in her life with that kind of boundary would hurt, he’d take what he could get.

  “Charlie...” He gently lifted her chin with one finger, then lowered his hand before he did something impulsive. “This doesn’t have to be so awkward, you know.”

  She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I think it’s better that way.”

  “Well, let the record show—I miss us. I miss your friendship.”

  “You sure didn’t seem to have trouble walking away from it.” She tossed back a big gulp of her drink, her eyes guarded.

  He hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “Mistakes were made.”

  “Yeah, well.” Charlie took a step toward the door, a sad smile on her face. “The same could be said about yesterday.”

  This time, she left him standing behind, watching her go.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Friday morning, Blake decided it was time to up his game—on all accounts. He’d already checked Flour Power’s social media page and discovered Charlie would be selling her baked goods all day at the annual downtown Tulip Mound Winter Market, so that meant he could kill two birds with one stone.

  Figuratively, of course. The last thing he needed was for anyone to think he hated dogs and birds.

  Blake strode up the sidewalk toward the giant blue banner stretched across Main Street, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. The temperature had dipped, making him regret his decision not to wear gloves despite the bright midday sun shining overhead. He’d successfully dodged his boss’s call last night and hadn’t even had to try. He’d been in the shower at the time, and since his boss hadn’t left a voice mail, he had no obligation to call back.

  Of course, that meant now he was walking around on edge waiting for his cell to buzz in his pocket, but the longer he waited, the better chance he had of hearing from Mark Raines first.

  He pressed through the growing crowd and headed toward the rows of booths offering handmade jewelry, custom art and cinnamon kettle corn. Blake sniffed the air appreciatively—someone had been frying turkey legs and funnel cake—before a red flyer taped to a lamppost caught his eye. He stopped beside a booth peddling candles to read it.

  Paradise Paws Double the Fun-Draiser This Saturday! Let’s Build a Snowman!

  He paused. They were still at it—and Charlie hadn’t invited him to this one. He kept reading, trying not to let that fact sting.

  Enter Your Best Snowman to Win a Prize! Then Join Us Inside Tulip Mound’s Community Kitchen to Thaw Out and Compete in an Epic Gingerbread House Contest.

  Several rules in fine print, including the location and the nominal entry fee, accompanied the announcement, as did a handful of clip-art images of snowflakes. Blake kept walking slowly, nodding at the candlemaker as he passed but keeping his eye out for Charlie and her Flour Power booth. He hadn’t heard how successful the first fund-raiser had been, but his business radar sensed it hadn’t been nearly enough to make a difference. How could it, selling cheap hot chocolate and relying mainly on donations? At best, they might have made enough to pay the bills for a month, but if Mark Raines said yes to Jitter Mugs’s offer, that month would be all the shelter had left.

  He moved out of the way of two kids in puffy jackets racing each other down the closed-off street, and for the first time, he thought about how conflicted Charlie must feel. They had chemistry together—undeniably—but she was in a difficult position. Just like he kept feeling torn between the urge to press in closer and the wisdom of backing away, she probably rode the same roller coaster of indecision.

  Their past demanded closure, and yet here he was trying to pry open the door. Not to mention what she might think of him once she realized his connection to Tori. Keeping that secret had seemed so wise at first, but now he wondered. Was he being wise—or cowardly?

  His steps slowed. Maybe coming to the market had been a bad idea.

  But then the crowds parted, and there she was, red hair gleaming in the sun streaming into her open-sided booth. She wore a Flour Power logo apron tied over an emerald green sweater, and she smiled as she packaged up some baked goods for a young couple holding hands.

  She looked like Christmas.

  Like a magnet, Blake strode toward Charlie. Then he noticed Nadia and Tori standing slightly behind her, unboxing treats to refill the display case. He hung back a beat and smiled at the contented expression on Tori’s face as she donned a pair of gloves and began arranging cookies on trays.

  She looked so much like her mom, but in the innocent, youthful way he remembered Danielle as a kid. Then his smile faltered. She didn’t deserve all this unknown in her life. Danielle, through selfish purposes, had actually given Tori a gift—a chance to grow up in an environment unaffected by substance abuse and various temptations.

  But what if Tori took after her mom anyway? What if she refused to come live with Blake, or ended up in a home where she wasn’t taught to beware of the addictive nature that ran in her family?

  What if he couldn’t save her?

  He blinked, jerking back to the present. Charlie clearly hadn’t seen him approach yet, as she called out after the departing customers, “Thanks again!” Then she turned and her eyes landed directly on Blake, her bright smile dimming slightly. “Oh, hey.”

  Blake swallowed, unable to shake the vulnerability his thoughts sent him spiraling toward. He wanted to tell Charlie so many things. Like how he was sorry for his part in what happened between them years ago, and that there was so much he’d never gotten to explain to her because he was young and stubborn and now it was most likely too late to matter. He wanted to tell her that she was the reason he’d never wanted a serious relationship since he left Tulip Mound. And that she was as pretty as she’d ever been and he’d do anything to be back in her good graces—to be her go-to friend again.

  But he settled for saying what was currently acceptable—especially in front of the girls. “Hey.”

  Nadia shot him a genuine smile, while Tori lifted one gloved hand in a silent—and expressionless—wave. Apparently, nothing had changed there yet.

  “What are you doing here?” Charlie’s tone wasn’t as rude as the words could have come across, but nonetheless, a rush of doubt filled him. He’d been so confident of his plan to win Tori’s trust and Charlie’s friendship back. But now, he wondered if he was just trying to force something that was clearly not meant to be—with both of them. He exhaled a silent prayer for wisdom.

  “I came to shop.” He gestured to Charlie’s wares. “Rumor has it, you’ve got the best bakery in town.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “You know what they say about rumors.”

  “I think in this case they’re true.”

  “They are,” Nadia piped up from the back of the booth without looking up from her work.

  Charlie dodged the compliment and held up a pair of tongs, clicking them together twice in the air. “So, what’ll it be?”

  He stepped closer, studying the display case full of options, even though he’d rather study the smattering of freckles dotting Charlie’s cheeks. Gingerbread muffins, iced cookies and cranberry scones filled several rows, while a separate, smaller case offered dog treats shaped like Santa hats and gingerbread men. “I’ll take one muffin, two scones and four of those Santa hats.”

  “You realize those are for dogs, right?” She cast him a dubious look as she used the tongs to pull out a muffin and drop it into a paper sack.

  “I know.” Blake shrugged. “I figured I owed Waffles a few goodies.”

  Her expression softened, and she used a different pair of tongs to package the Santa hats. “That’s really sweet.”

  He hoped Tori would agree. The younger girl glanced over, her face still unreadable, but at least she wasn’t frowning at him anymore.

  He took the two bags and handed over a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

  “Thank you.” Charlie slid the cash into a zippered bank bag and then, having nothing to do with her hands, crossed them awkwardly. They were back to that. “I hope you like them.”

  “You’re assuming Waffles is going to share.”

  Nadia snorted. Tori’s lips twitched, but she wasn’t smiling yet.

  Blake continued. “I saw the flyer for the next fund-raiser.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty last-minute, but I think it’ll be fun.” Charlie busied herself brushing crumbs from the white tablecloth. “The girls have worked hard with Rachel to brainstorm events and make the ads.”

  “I had the idea for the snowflake art.” Tori shot him a sidelong look as she began to rearrange the scones to fill the space he’d left in the case.

  “It was a great touch, Tor.”

  Finally, a smile. Then Nadia elbowed her, and they engaged in a brief whispered conversation before their gazes pinged between Charlie and Blake. Uh-oh.

  Nadia sidled over closer to Charlie and beamed at him. “You should come.”

  Charlie paused in her crumb scooping. “I don’t think that’s really Blake’s thing—”

  “I’d love to,” he interrupted before she could get any further. He’d take any opportunity he could to mend things with Tori—and Charlie, for that matter, though both seemed like impossibly tall orders.

  Tori’s eyebrows rose in sync with Charlie’s. “You want to build a snowman?”

  He shrugged. “Hey, I’ve been in Colorado for years. You should see what I can do.” More like, what the talented people in his neighborhood could do, but he’d learned a few tricks from watching.

  One corner of Charlie’s lips turned up. “You realize you can’t wear a button-down and slacks for that activity, right?”

  He was so happy she was relaxed and teasing, he didn’t even care that it was borderline making fun of him. “I’ll come prepared—I promise.” He’d also come prepared to donate, but no sense in pointing that out.

  She resumed dusting crumbs. “And the gingerbread house contest?”

  “Yep. You’re going down, Bussey.” He was all bluff at this point. Basically, unless hot glue guns were allowed, he had a feeling his house wouldn’t even be standing upright by the time the judges came around. But banter with Charlie was too much like the old days to resist.

  Tori and Nadia shot each other a glance, and Nadia mouthed the words told you so. Blake frowned, then clarity struck. The matchmaking attempts. So that’s why Nadia just invited him to the fund-raiser. They were trying to push them together, like Charlie had warned.

  Charlie must have caught the attempt, too, because she pulled her keys from a purse tucked under the table and tossed them to Nadia. “Why don’t you girls go check the back seat of my car? I’m pretty sure I left a box of dog treats under the passenger seat.”

  They obeyed, arguing over who was going to carry the keys as they walked off through the maze of booths.

  “They’re not very subtle, are they?” Blake laughed.

  “About as subtle as a Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.” Charlie adjusted her hair beneath her beanie as she glanced back at him. “Speaking of dramatic events—any word from Mark?”

  And just like that, their easy banter ceased and the dangling anvil over them dropped another few inches. He pulled in a breath. “Not yet. I figure it’ll be a few days.”

  She rolled in her lower lip. “Hopefully not too long.”

  He wasn’t sure if she meant for anticipation’s sake or for him going back to Colorado’s sake. He didn’t really want to confirm. “I truly hope the fund-raiser goes well.”

  She let out a slow sigh. “I know you do.”

  “Ah, so you finally accept I’m not actually a villain?” He raised his eyebrows.

  A hint of a smile crossed her face. She pointed the tongs at him. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  He sobered. “All the best villains have their own backstory, you know.”

  “But this isn’t the movies. There’s no guaranteed happily-ever-after.”

  “Sometimes a script can be rewritten.”

  She shrugged, as if doubtful. He felt the same, to be honest. It would take more of that divine intervention to fix things between him and Charlie. So many years wasted—and so many secrets and obstacles still in the way. He’d never be a hero in her eyes—no matter how many dog treats he purchased or how many toddlers he rescued from collapsing fences. He needed to accept it and stop trying to read hope into places where there wasn’t any.

  He adjusted the two sacks in his hands, his heart pounding as he prepared to take another honest leap. He had to tell her about Tori. It had already been too long—now he would just look suspicious. It was time for the whole truth. Maybe Charlie could help him break the barrier between him and Tori once and for all. Her approval would go a long way—if he could keep it.

  He drew a deep breath, all previous facades down. “Charlie, I really need to—”

  Suddenly, a large family crowded the booth, two young girls pushing past him and clamoring over which cookie they wanted as their parents hollered instructions to not touch anything. The woman balanced a toddler on one hip while the father wrestled a diaper bag and wallet from the undercarriage of a plaid stroller. “Excuse us,” the woman said as the kid in her arms accidentally kicked Blake in the ribs.

  The Lord’s intervention again? It was getting hard to tell.

  “I better go deliver these to Waffles.” He raised his voice and held up the bag of dog treats as he backed away and waved at Charlie. “See you at the contest, if not before.”

  It’d be before, all right. He checked his watch as he strode away from the table. It’d be in about four hours.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tulip Mound residents officially considered breakfast a desirable option for any time of day, and Charlie was ready to do her citizenly duty with a plate full of pancakes. Standing at her booth all morning at the winter market had worked up her appetite, as had skipping lunch to sell as many baked goods as possible.

 

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