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“Nice,” Albert said approvingly. “And now for the mistletoe.” He reached down into the box and straightened up a little too fast, dropping the ribboned ball of gray-green mistletoe back in. “Ow!” He put a hand on his back and rubbed it. “I gotta get down off this ladder. My back is killing me.”
“I’ll hang it,” Bridget offered. “You should take a break. If you don’t want a sandwich, you could have a little something, just to sit down. To Go usually sells out of apple pie by two o’clock, by the way.”
Albert climbed down a little stiffly. “That gives me half an hour. You want anything?”
Just being in the presence of an ultrathin model was enough to kill Bridget’s appetite. And she’d had two doughnuts. “No, thanks. See you in a bit.”
Albert handed her the hammer and lumbered away. She heard the back door of the shop close and then creak open—she would have to fix that latch one of these days—as she dragged the ladder under the Victorian light fixture, being careful not to tip over the box of decorations on the flip-down shelf. The finial would be a perfect place to hang the ribboned ball.
She went up the steps and wound its thin wire around the finial, climbing down and dragging the ladder to one side when she was done.
Bridget folded her arms over her chest, thinking that mistletoe in May was silly and wonderful at the same time. Like the cranberry-and-popcorn garland, the ball moved slightly in the breeze from the fan. Its faint humming filled the quiet store and she didn’t hear the footsteps at first. Looking up at the ball, she assumed it was Albert coming back for his wallet or something, or one of the crew, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Jonas come into the front part of the store.
“What are you doing here?” She realized that the question didn’t sound very friendly but he had startled her.
“I looked in the window and saw you hard at work.” He smiled. “The door was locked and I didn’t want to knock. Not while you were up on a ladder.”
She nodded, feeling a little foolish. “Right.”
Jonas shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked around. “What’s going on?”
“We’re being featured in the Good Living Christmas issue. So’s Dotty. They’re shooting at her farm tomorrow.
“How about that. The place looks nice.”
“Thanks.”
She kept her eyes on his face, unwilling to look up at the mistletoe and hoping he hadn’t noticed it. No way would she let him kiss her under it. The kiss wouldn’t count if he did, anyway. The ball was totally fake.
Jonas glanced up at it without saying anything, then took in the rest of the décor with an amused glint in his eyes. “Decking the halls must be fun. So where is everybody?”
“Out to lunch. They’ll be back soon.”
“Oh.”
She had a feeling he wanted to make a move—on her—but he just stood there. His nearness made her breath catch and her heart beat faster. Okay, her shop was open to the public and there was no reason he couldn’t come in, but she wished that he hadn’t. Feeling like he could sweep her off her feet all over again wasn’t helping. Bridget looked around for something that would distract him and saw the paper bakery bag. She should wave it under his nose and make a mad dash to safety. Men were simple creatures, her mother liked to say, adding that food or sex usually did the trick.
“Have you eaten?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes.” She was not going to go out with him. Someone had to hold down the fort.
“Too bad. I haven’t.”
He could have whatever was left in the bakery bag and spare her the calories. “There’s doughnuts.” She pointed at the bag. “I picked up enough for everybody.”
Jonas nodded. “Sure, I’ll have a doughnut. Got any coffee?”
“Coming up.” Eager to do something—anything—that would keep both of them out of trouble, Bridget went to the counter and got the coffeemaker going, kneeling to look in the small fridge where they kept their lunches for the fresh pint of half-and-half.
The smell of brewing coffee made her lingering reverie disappear, for which she was grateful. Bridget rose, pint container in hand, and set it on the counter, next to the sugar-packet holder. She took out two. “Half-and-half. Two sugars.”
He nodded, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Just how I like it. You remembered.”
For some reason, Bridget found that last remark unnerving. “Yes, I did. Not that it means anything.”
“I didn’t say it did. I just said you remembered.”
Not forgetting her manners, no matter what he said, she found a cup and set it in front of him. “Don’t go getting ideas, Jonas.”
