“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.
Sure, it wasn’t a perfect start, on paper or otherwise, but it was something.
Time to go pick out a Christmas tree, and earn my promotion.After packing away my curling iron, and applying a slick layer of vanilla-scented lip gloss,I wrapped a thick scarf around my neck, stuffed my feet into my boots, and zipped up my coat. Jack was already somewhere outside, likely cursing my name at getting him involved with the town’s holiday preparations. Becky was supposed to meet us soon, and then we’d hike through the farm with me lagging behind working some behind-the-scenes sorcery.
Stepping outside onto the wraparound porch, I blew warm air into my palms to charge up the spells, then slipped on a pair of wool mittens. A few gray clouds hung overhead, giving me the perfect opportunity to cast a brief snow squall.
Strolling through the pine trees while big fluffy flakes fell from the sky seemed like the ideal atmosphere for flirtation. Then when we were finished and Becky had left for the evening, I’d conjure a surprise special delivery containing Jack’s favorite cheese danish.Always leave them wanting more…
It was a throwback, but if the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, it was a good thing Becky was a pastry chef.
Becky’s car pulled down the driveway, and she gave me a cheery wave as she climbed out of the vehicle. She was dressed in an olive green puffy coat and a pair of dark skinny jeans. Her copper-colored hair flowed down her back, and an off-white hat with a fuzzy pom-pom sat on her head. She looked like a heroine returning to her small hometown from the plot of a holiday rom-com, and seeing her caused that odd sensation to tingle the back of my neck again. The one where I wanted to unleash my frustrations on a frozen sculpture.
I forced excitement on my face and returned her wave. “Hey, Becky. Thanks for coming.”
“My pleasure! This was such a great idea. It’s always been a town tradition to display a Bradley Farm’s tree. A few years ago they started using a large-scale distributor, so it’ll be nice to restart the tradition.”
“Was your father okay with it?”
Becky made a face as I joined her on the gravel path that led to the acreage at the back of the inn. “He knows it’s the right thing to do. But I’d be lying if he didn’t grumble about it. I wish everyone would put the past in the past. The accident wasn’t Jack’s fault.”
Accident?Grandma Jean had gone into detail on Jack’s current situation, but she’d been light on his past. All I had were the few notes in his case file. But there hadn’t been anything about an accident. We paused in front of the barn, and since we were still alone, I asked the question weighing on my mind.
“What accident? Was someone hurt?”
Becky kept her voice low. “No. Nothing like that.” She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Since you’re staying in town for a while, you’re going to hear the gossip. You might as well hear it from me. Two years ago, Jack had a falling out with his father over a broken engagement. Honestly, I’m glad the deal fell through. It would have been a marriage of convenience and that wasn’t fair to Jack. He deserves more than the deed to the neighboring land. He deserves someone who can give him everything.” She blushed at her answer and sheepishly let her gaze roam over the barn. Clearing her throat, she said, “Grandma Jean told me once that Jack refuses to go inside the barn ever since he came back. They did a nice job rebuilding. You can’t even tell there was an incident.”
“What happened?” I asked, wishing Becky would stop with the vague accident references and get to the point.
