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“I’m doing well,” Bessy says as I grab a few of each before I make my way back to the register and wait for the show to begin. “You know, you’re just the man I’ve been meaning to see.”
Bingo.
“Oh?” I ask, feigning cluelessness. “You need something fixed in the store?”
“No. No,” she beams, her eyes sparkling with a million little secrets. “I was hoping to sign you up for the Catch A Cowboy event at the Christmas fair next week.”
Huh?
Okay. I fucked that one up. Apparently, she doesn’t want to tell me all about the familiar face that came strolling through her store barely five minutes ago. Shit, and here I was thinking that Bessy always had my back.
“I, uhh . . . I don’t know, Bess,” I say, disappointment flooding through my chest. “I thought we agreed that last year was the last time I’d let you twist my arm. I’ve done it four years in a row. We don’t need to make it five. Besides, I’m sure there’s some other sorry loser in town who’d be up for running around a ring with screaming women chasing after him.” Not to mention, I’m definitely not feeling up to taking some woman on a date when Blair is back in town. Any other time, and maybe I might have agreed. But this is a firm no this year.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she says, taking my snacks and scanning them as her eyes do that weird sparkly thing again, warning me that this isn’t as innocent as it seems. “You know, I just had a beautiful young woman in the store who’s going to be in town for a little while, and she so kindly offered to sign up. It’s for a good cause, you know? But if you’re not feeling it this year, I’m sure I can find another eligible bachelor who’d be happy to take the winner out.”
“I know what you’re doing, Bess,” I warn, “and it’s not going to work.”
Bess shrugs her shoulders and lets out a heavy sigh as she goes about ringing up my snacks. “It’s fine. If you don’t want to do it, I’m not going to pressure you. Besides, I heard Jarrod Sanderson is back on the market. He might be willing to jump in.”
Jarrod fucking Sanderson. The asshole who tried to shove his tongue down Blair’s throat during senior prom? Over my dead body will that fucker be taking Blair out. Hell, she’ll try and win the damn competition just to spite me. Just because she knows I’ll be watching every fucking second of it. Hell, even if Jarrod declines the offer and some other random guy steps in, I don’t know how I’d feel about the idea of Blair going out with him.
Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me? She hasn’t been mine for six years. Why the hell should I care if she goes out on some forced date with some guy she’ll probably never see again? I shouldn’t feel this possessive of her. God knows she doesn’t feel it for me.
“Damn it, Bess,” I groan, running my fingers back through my hair as I clench my jaw. I brace my knuckles against the counter, hanging my head as I take a breath. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“That’s the spirit,” she says, way too fucking chirpy for the raging storm brewing inside of me.
“What do you know?” I question, no longer interested in dancing around the topic. Clearly she’s come to the conclusion that I know she’s back in town, so I might as well try and get the answers I’m looking for. “How long is she here?”
Bess gives me a pitying smile, knowing this shit isn’t easy for me. Hell, the whole fucking town knows how hard I took the breakup. They all saw me fall to pieces and had to watch as I slowly put myself back together.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” she says, lowering her tone and placing a soothing hand over my fisted one. “She’s hoping to sort out her grandparents’ estate, and considering the time of year, I can’t imagine she’ll be able to get it done before Christmas.”
Shit. She’s here for Christmas. That’s a week and a half away.
“And after Christmas? What’s she planning to do with the property? Sell it and take her ass back to New York?”
“Sorry, love. She didn’t say,” she tells me. “I know seeing her again is going to be hard, but do yourself a favor and go and say hello. You’re not going to get the answers you’re looking for by following her around town and refusing to talk to her.”
“What? I’m not—”
“Deny it all you like, Nicholas, but I saw you standing across the street for twenty minutes, gawking through the window of my store like a hungry stray begging for scraps. And if I can notice it with these old eyes, then I can guarantee that eventually, she will too.”
Shit.
“I’m just—” The sound of my phone cuts me off, and I let out a heavy sigh before pulling it out, expecting to see another call from the Inn, wanting to make sure I’m still breathing, but instead, I find Oxley’s name flashing across the screen. “Sorry, Bess. I’ve gotta take this.”
I put a twenty dollar bill on the counter, despite it being far too much for the handful of things I’ve purchased, and after scooping up my bag, I press my phone to my ear. “Everything good?” I ask, giving Bessy a polite nod and silently excusing myself from her store.
“I should be asking you that,” Oxley grumbles. “I just had a call from Jamie at the Inn thinking you were dead in a ditch somewhere. She said you never showed up this morning, and considering you sound perfectly fine, I can only assume you’re being a fucking stalker. Leave the girl alone, Nick.”
Fuck. Why is everyone assuming I’m stalking Blair, apart from the fact that’s exactly what I’ve been doing, but do they really need to think so low of me?
“I’m not stalking anybody,” I mutter. “Just had to stop and grab something from the store. I’m on my way to the Inn now.”
“Mm-hmm. Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he says, clearly not buying my bullshit, but it’s not as though I completely lied. Just partially. “You know, I was checkin’ up on her this morning and drove past her place. She must have gotten up real fucking early to plow all that snow off her driveway.”
“Wouldn’t know,” I mutter, knowing damn well he can see through that as well.
