“Because that breeze keeps blowing your hair in your face. I want to tuck it behind your ear, but figured I’d be facing an arctic chill if I did.”
Her stomach launched into gold medal-worthy somersaults. Ugh. She was too smart to be taken in by this man’s charms. He was a here-today, gone-tomorrow military man. Could there possibly be a worse choice for her to be attracted to? Not that she was attracted to him, but if she were, he’d be a terrible choice.
“I should have worn a scarf,” she murmured. Putting the basket down on a mostly shielded from the greenway picnic table, she then tucked her hair behind her ears in hopes it stayed. No reason to tempt fate. Not fate. Zach. No reason to tempt Zach.He was not her fate.
He gestured to a grassy area thirty or so yards away. “Let’s do as your sister suggested last night and eat by the riverbank. I’m sure that’s why she sent the blanket.”
Isabelle had no doubt. Sophie had learned from the best. “There’s no telling what she packed in her Christmas picnic basket.”
“Or in this giant bag.” He gestured to the one with the shop’s logo. “It’s heavy at the bottom.”
When she stopped ten feet or so from where the bank sloped down to a rocky area along the river, Zach pulled the quilt from the bag. “Yep. Lots more here than just a quilt.”
Eyeing the red and green holly-patterned pillow Zac held, along with the matching holly Christmas quilt, Isabelle glanced in the bag and shook her head. “You’ll have to excuse my sister. She’s getting married in a month and has bride brain. Hopefully, she’ll learn to pack lighter prior to her honeymoon.”
“I don’t mind a tiny Christmas tree, Christmas mugs and”—he gestured to the thermos she pulled from the bag—“based upon the bag of marshmallows, I’m guessing this is hot chocolate.”
“I’d rather have water,” Isabelle mumbled, placing the bottle on the ground, then helping him smooth out the quilt over the grass. “And be at work.”
“Than to be outside? Breathing in fresh air? Hearing the rippling of the water? I like numbers, but it’s a rare day I’d rather be indoors than outside. Relax.” He popped one of the tiny marshmallows into his mouth. “It’s only lunch.”
Lunch her sister had packed. Lunch with a man who rattled her insides. Lunch that was a picnic by the river, but okay, it was only lunch. A romantic Christmas picnic kind of only lunch.
Shaking her head at Sophie’s whimsicalness, she picked up the plastic tree to place it on one corner of the quilt and noticed the bottom. “I think we’re supposed to listen to Christmas songs while we eat. This thing winds up.”
“Cool. Wind ’er up, then let’s see what’s in the basket. I’m hungry and these marshmallows aren’t cutting it.”
“Hey, stay out of those,” she scolded when he scooped a few more out of the bag. “They’re for the hot chocolate.”
With “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” mingling with the river’s gurgling, they pulled item after item from the basket and cooler bag.
Pausing to look at the spread, Zach whistled. “She’s good.”
“Yep.” And not just her, because there was no way her sister had put this together by herself.
She’d had help. Butterfly help. Isabelle should have suspected when she’d glanced up at the shop’s security monitor and seen Ruby coming into the shop. And not thirty minutes later, Aunt Claudia and Rosie had. Eyeing the foil-covered loaf, Isabelle frowned. That had better not be what she thought it was. Kneeling on the quilt, she picked up the loaf and began unwrapping the foil. Even before she could see the contents, cinnamon wafted on the air.
“I’m telling Santa on all of them. Nothing but coal for the whole lot,” she grumbled, wondering if Zach would think her crazy if she tossed the bread into the river.
He’d been unpacking plates with candy canes on them, red cloth napkins, red utensils, and two wrapped Christmas presents.
Leaning over to see what she held, his brows knitted together. “You have something against cinnamon bread?”
“I have something major against this particular bread.” Sophie was in so much trouble when Isabelle got back to the shop. Those presents better be handwritten apologies. “This is Rosie’s cinnamon bread.”
“The blue-haired lady with a lot of spunk?”
Isabelle nodded.
“It smells good.” Before she realized what he was doing, Zach pinched off a generous piece and took a bite. “Mmm. That’s good.”
“No! Spit it out.” Panicked, she grabbed for the remaining bread in his hand.
“Too late.” Confusion distorted his face. “Have I been poisoned?”
“Same as.” She sighed. “Rumor has it that Rosie’s cinnamon bread has special powers to make a man fall for the first woman he sees after taking a bite.”
Chapter Five
