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Footsteps overhead jolted her to reality, and she nudged out of his arms. “Coffee should warm us up.”
He remained standing there with his mouth downturned and his eyes soft and longing.
Great, the book already played with her head.
“What exactly is the legend?” Duke asked.
She realized she was still holding the book and tossed it onto the table like a bad fruitcake. “That whoever has possession of the book will find true love by Christmas Eve.”
Duke cleared his throat. “Then I guess you’ll be married by Christmas to your true love back in Atlanta.”
She didn’t respond; she couldn’t. Harry… Henry… true love? “That’s just a silly lie people tell to give hope to those desperate to find someone. I bet Aunt Laura put this in there. It’s probably a fake.”
The bitterness in her voice coiled around her heart. She collapsed into the bistro chair knocking into the table. The dark liquid sloshed over and seeped into the tiny dents and nicks the way thoughts of this book eked into her mind and solid life plans.
No, she wouldn’t be like her fickle mother and run out on her vow to be with someone. She’d committed to Har…Henry. Darn Aunt. She swirled and twirled Scarlet’s feelings faster than her expensive espresso machine brewed perfect coffee.
“My papers!” Duke snatched his white papers but not before the brown liquid scarred the corner.
“Sorry. Oh goodness.” Scarlet jumped into action, retrieved a rag from behind the counter, swiped up the mess the way she swiped away her wayward feelings, and took their coffees to dump. “I’ll get us fresh drinks, and we’ll get started.”
“It’s okay. I have deliveries to make before my produce freezes out there. The temperature is dropping quickly, and they are saying a real snowstorm might hit us. I need to pick up the damaged produce and take it out to Johnson Ranch on my way back, too. Not to mention the fact I need to fix the barn roof so it won’t cave in when it snows.” He studied the papers for a second. “You don’t want to marry him. You just believe it’s the right path. A path you drew up the minute you found yourself alone on your aunt’s doorstep when your mother didn’t show to pick you up from boarding school that fateful Christmas.” He locked gazes with her. “Don’t do it.”
“Not any of your business. You best go get to that work of yours.”
“I won’t bother you again.” His words pierced her resolve, and she abandoned the coffee and rushed to his side without a thought.
It had been so long since she’d been around such friendship, she’d forgotten her manners. “Wait.” She grabbed his hand to keep him from leaving her again. They’d been lifelong friends. She couldn’t throw that away. “I promised to help, and I don’t break my promises. Please, sit. You still have time. Heck, I can come help you with the roof. Remember when I helped when you tried to repair the attic floor in eighth grade?”
“You mean when you didn’t step on the beam and fell through the roof, making it so I had two spots to repair.” He chuckled. His thumb grazed her hand and her chest swelled.
“Hey, I still helped.” She missed this. Their fun. Their connection.
“That and the fact that your aunt warned me that she’d have me put out to pasture if I ever let you get in the attic again.”
His thumb dancing over her skin dizzied her. She needed space but not too much space. Having him here was like having a Christmas hug. Was it wrong that she wanted him in her life as a good friend? “My point is, we’ve been friends a long time. I know you avoided me when I arrived.”
“I avoided you?” He stepped closer, but she retreated behind the counter. His hand was one thing, but that hungry look would tease any woman.
“I’ll make us some fresh cups; get your stuff organized. I won’t take no for an answer.”
He joined her behind the bar, crowding her and her emotions into the corner. She attacked the espresso machine like a barn cat after a field mouse. And she knew he wasn’t leaving until he got an answer to why she hadn’t visited him.
“I didn’t mean to avoid you, it’s just that my aunt needed me. And this place has been slammed. And—”
“And you’re engaged.”
She closed her eyes, feeling the steam rise around her face. “No. I’m not.”
He edged closer, causing her to jerk the cup. The scalding liquid scorched her skin. The ceramic mug flew from her hand and smashed against the hardwood floor.
His arms shot around her, ushering her to the sink. The cold water splattered full blast over her burning wrist, cooling the fire.
They didn’t move for several seconds. He stood behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “How’s that?” His lips brushed the edge of her ear and set fire to her entire body. His warm breath kissed and teased her friendship doctrine.
“Fine. I’m fine.” She shut off the water and turned to retreat but instead found herself in his embrace. His gaze transfixed on her lips.
Her pulse pitter-pattered like children’s feet on Christmas morning, running to unwrap their presents. Did he feel how hard her heart beat against her chest?
