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“I don’t know, Bella,” Justice sounds unsure. “I kinda don’t want to ask too many questions.”
I groan and throw my hands up before stomping to the register. I assess what we have out for the day. It’s looking good, both in terms of how much is for sale and what we have sold because I know what trays we’ve replaced already today.
Honestly, who doesn’t love an éclair?
I eye the peppermint chocolate ones with their red and green sprinkles as if they’ve done me wrong. They haven’t. They’re still delicious. I know this, but I resent the hell out of them.
I grumbled the entire time I was putting those sprinkles on, but I still did it. I try and push down my annoyance at the holiday. I really do. It’s just so fake and I hate when people aren’t real.
I remember finding it all so magical when I was a kid. Those were simpler times, I guess. At least, for me they were. It was only when I was older that I saw how things change around the holiday. The marketing that companies use change. The attitudes of people change.
“I’m going to get the garlands I’ve been hiding in the office then,” Bella squeals and races out of the front of our shop and I fight to stop myself from rolling my eyes at her antics.
I’m going to do better about not bringing the storm cloud of my opinions and feelings about Christmas around wherever I go. I can do that. My sisters don’t deserve to be sucked into my vortex of negativity.
“Hi, Raegan,” the deep voice coming from the counter has me spinning as I gasp and press a hand to my chest.
I blink a few times, but every time I see the man in front of me, my body reacts to him. He’s so handsome, especially on the weekdays when he’s wearing a suit, like he is today. It molds to him in a way which makes my mouth water. He’s not overly muscular, but it’s also clear he holds his own in the gym department.
I’ll admit I find that a little intimidating considering I’ve added some curves to my body since opening Éclair Wishes. How could I not? Sampling the goods is a perk I’m not going to turn down. Not when I’m the one making a good portion of the treats we sell.
His eyes are a spruce green and very similar to the color of the garlands Bella is pulling out of bags as I side eye the hell out of her. The five o’clock shadow he’s sporting is surprisingly inviting instead of scruffy looking like it is on some men. There’s something so put together about Evan.
There’s an eager glint in his eyes today and when I notice that the tie that he has on has a pattern of small Christmas trees with all the trimmings, I press my lips together and take a deep breath. I should not lash out at customers, not even a little bit. I force a smile onto my face.
“Hi, Evan,” I try and keep my voice light and bright, but I know I fall short by the way he narrows his eyes slightly. “How are you today?”
Evan has been coming into the shop for a while now. He’s mentioned he doesn’t live far and, considering he’s in almost every day, I’d say he’s a fan of our éclairs. Sometimes I get the feeling he comes in for more than that, but I’m not sure.
He looks at me a certain way sometimes which sends a tingle throughout my body, but he’s never asked me out or anything. I’m not sure what I would say if he did. I’ve been so focused on the business that I put dating and relationships on the backburner so I could do my part to make this place a success.
I don’t know if we’ve gotten it there completely yet, but we’re on our way.
“I’m good,” he flashes me a smile which shows off his straight, white teeth. “How about you?” He tilts his head slightly as he looks at me, those spruce-colored eyes assessing me and seeing more than I’d like them to. “How are you today?”
“I’m,” I take a deep breath and look away from him, preparing myself to lie. It shouldn’t be difficult, I do it all the time during the Christmas season. As if elves are supposed to bring me joy or something—they don’t. When I look back at him, I find the truth spilling from me, “I hate Christmas.”
Evan rears back slightly as my cheeks heat from the way I just blurted that out. Not a good segue at all. I wince a little bit and look around, hoping I can run away, but my sisters are now in a battle with the tinsel and won’t be rescuing me anytime soon.
Evan’s voice drops an octave, his words slow and measured, “You hate Christmas?” There’s surprise written all over his face. “Really? You seem so,” he pauses as if searching for the right word.
“I don’t come off as a Grinch?” He nods, his eyes locking with mine as if he’s trying to see into my soul. Good luck with that. “I know,” I sigh the words and my shoulders slump slightly. “It’s the only time of year I’m like this, but it’s true. I hate all the,” I wave my hand toward where my sisters have started decorating, “pageantry around the holiday.”
Evan rubs his jaw as he assesses me. He’s a good guy from what I can tell, though I don’t have a lot to base it on. This is probably the deepest conversation we’ve had since he started coming in. If this even counts.
“A purist,” he muses.
I scrunch my face up, my tone biting, “What?”
Evan chuckles, the sound oddly soothing and warm coming from him. I swear this man has retriever written all over him. He's definitely a good guy.
“I just mean you don’t like the way the holiday has been twisted with commercial stuff,” he surmises with a smile.
“Yeah,” I breathe out, unsure what I even thought he meant. “Exactly. I loved it as a kid, but now I see so much more this time of year. How people use it to shield themselves and lie about who they are. They pretend they’re good people. Some even volunteer, but where are they the rest of the year? Those shelters need volunteers every day, not just when Santa is watching.” I roll my eyes as amusement dances in Evan’s eyes. “Companies use the holiday to make money. Don’t even get me started on that one,” I huff out the words
Evan gets a thoughtful look on his face and leans a little on the counter. “Can I take you out?”
My eyes widen as I sputter, “W-w-what?”
Evan smirks in a way that’s not creepy or sleazy, a good guy smirk. “Can I take you out, Raegan? It sounds like you need it.”
My heart falls to the very bottom of my feet. I’m no one’s pity date. I might hate Christmas, but that doesn’t mean I need to be fixed and his desire to do so is written all over his face. I’m fine just the way I am.
I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Before he can say anything, I turn and race to the kitchen. My sisters can deal with him if he wants to get some éclairs. I don’t want someone to ask me out because they feel sorry for me. It’s true, but then why does my chest ache right where my heart beats?
