“I grew up with Grandma Jean, so just the opposite. I’m a firm believer. But lately—mostly in the last day or two—I believe in curses.”
“Very funny,” Delia mocked while I tried to contain another laugh. We drank our coffee in silence for a few moments until she motioned back toward Becky.
“I hope everything’s okay over there.”
Becky paced in the corner with a cell phone to her ear. Her features were drawn tight, and she whispered urgently into the handset. When she ended the call, she grabbed a bag sitting on the counter and approached our table.
“Here’s your grandmother’s order.” Becky’s voice wobbled as she placed the bag next to me.
“Is something wrong?” Delia asked. “That didn’t look like a pleasant phone call.”
Becky sighed and rubbed the lines between her forehead. “That was my father. He’s the mayor and responsible for getting the town's Christmas tree set up in the square. But there’s a problem with the distributer this year, and now there’s no tree. He’s very upset.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Delia said, stepping on my foot.
I glared at her from across the table as her eyes widened with a mischievous look.Nope. Not happening.I shook my head. She kicked my shin. Air hissed through my teeth from the sharp pain. That one was going to bruise.
“Jack's farm can provide a tree,” Delia offered, ignoring the slicing gesture I made under my chin. The threat only made her bolder. “Why don’t you come to the farm tomorrow and help us find the perfect tree? Jack would love to have you.”
Becky beamed. “Are you sure? That would be fantastic, but I know that there’s been some—”
“Mutual hostility between me and the town,” I cut in.
Delia spoke over me. “Which is why it’s a great idea! Not only will it help your father out of a jam, but it might help smooth things over with people. Plus, it will be great for business at the farm, and for my article.”
“It really would be a lifesaver,” Becky said, smoothing her hands down her apron. “Let’s do it! I’ll be by in the afternoon.”
“Perfect.” Delia lifted her cup and clinked it into mine while it was still sitting on the table. “It’s a date.”
Becky flushed, and my frown deepened.
“Fine. Don’t get your flannel shirt in a twist.” Delia rolled her eyes at me. “It's not a date. It’s a meeting of like-minded tree hunters on a quest to save the town’s Christmas. How’s that?”
“Sounds like I have to pick my poison,” I drawled.
Delia sent me a wink. “Then I’d choose wisely.”
Chapter 8
Delia
Melting Jack’s heart would not be easy.
My magical attempt at coffee art had not piqued his interest, and so I’d made a last-ditch effort before we left to materialize a flirty note for Becky on a napkin. I just hoped it would prove useful. But in all honesty, it wasn’t some of my best work. Ever since we’d stepped into the bakery, I’d felt off-center. Maybe it was from the combative back and forth with Jack that I somehow enjoyed even though his remarks were grumpy as ever.
Was I attracted to scathing wit? Surely not. Simon never talked like that. He didn’t challenge everything you said or poke holes in your argument. He was conventional. Perfect on paper and in person. Kind of like Becky. Which was another thing…
I frowned in front of the mirror letting the curling iron in my hand sit for too long on a single section of hair. Becky was nice. She had a great job, made delicious pastries, and had a smile like a beauty queen. I should be outside making snow angels, she was so flawless.
So why did I want to kick a snowman instead?
The scent of burning hair jolted me back to the mirror. With a curse, I unwound the scorched section and ran my fingers through the loose curls. My confusing feelings and indecision didn’t matter. The only thing I knew for certain was that I needed to work harder.
Not even my push to hype Becky’s many positive traits had seemed to sway Jack. I didn’t expect this case to be easy or solvable on the first try, but I thought I’d at least get a spark of something romantic from Jack’s side. He was a living, breathing man, after all. Even just a half smile as she fixed our drinks or a covert glance toward the counter would have given me hope. But I’d gotten nothing!
Jack’s heart was colder than the icicles hanging from the roof of the inn. The case file should have listed the cheese danish as the future love of his life. Now that I could work with.
Which was why when a promising opportunity presented itself, I chose to dig deep and expose old wounds. Not only had I scored a second—not a date—encounter, but I’d thrust Jack's farm into the spotlight. Donating a tree was a brilliant start to changing his reputation with the people of Wood Pine.
