A Miracle for the Reserved Flyboy (Love in Sweet Bloom #11)

Chapter 5

KRISTA

Hanging up the phone with Gary, Krista immediately fired off a text to Susan, her fingers practically flying over the keys.

Hey, pretty lady! So… how did it go with our handsome Air Force pilot?

The reply didn’t take long, but the response wasn’t exactly what Krista had expected.

Ugh, total disaster. Hold on to your britches—you need to know something about your ‘fantastic flyboy,’ because, oh my gosh, it was anything but fantastic!

Krista blinked at the screen in disbelief, her mind racing. What could have possibly gone so wrong? She waited, her eyes glued to the three little dots hovering at the bottom of her screen, signaling that Susan was still typing. The dots seemed to linger, drawing out the suspense to an almost unbearable degree. Krista could tell by now that whatever Susan was about to send was either going to be a well-thought-out assessment or, more likely, a rant she’d been bottling up since the date ended.

Then the message finally came through.

Yeah—complete dud. D.U.D. That guy was so uptight he might as well have had a yardstick shoved somewhere an excavator couldn’t reach. I have NEVER had such an awkward, uncomfortable date in my life! I’m telling you, Krista, that man almost made me swear off dating completely. It was like he hadn’t spoken to a woman in years, let alone flirted with one. I mean, did you know he hasn’t been on a single date in over three years? Not one! I almost feel sorry for the next woman who gets him, because it will be like dating a human brick wall. No charm, no finesse, no anything!

Krista’s eyes widened in shock, but the text kept going.

Oh, and let me tell you, it only got worse! When I tried to lean in for a good night kiss—you know, a simple peck—he literally turned green, bolted for the nearest patch of grass, and threw up! Yep, vomited! Right there! It was so bad I almost wanted to join him! Krista, if this is what I can expect from your matchmaking skills, I’m begging you, please, don’t sign me up for another round of ‘who’s-who’ dating disasters. Next time, could you at least ask if they’re actively looking for a relationship or just a woman who can validate their parking ticket? Because Gary was definitely more the latter.

Krista gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as she read the last few lines. She scrolled back up, re-reading parts of the message, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Holy cannoli,” she whispered, stunned. This wasn’t the Gary she knew. How could such a charming, funny guy turn into… well, this? She’d been so sure that he and Susan would click, and yet the whole thing had seemingly imploded.

"Gary, Gary, Gary…" she muttered to herself, trying to process it all. The image of Gary throwing up after a kiss was too wild to picture, but she couldn’t ignore Susan’s vivid description. The poor guy must have been a nervous wreck. Still, Krista couldn’t shake her confusion—how could her charming friend have turned into such a… disaster?

Just as she started typing a sympathetic reply, her phone buzzed again with another message from Susan – still ranting:

Girl, you owe me BIG for that one. Next time, I want a background check, a personality quiz, and a minimum of three references before I agree to meet another guy you set me up with.

Krista stifled a laugh, feeling a bit guilty, yet amused. I’m so sorry! I had no idea it would go like that… He’s normally so charming, honestly!

Yeah, well… NO!

He owes me a new pair of shoes after that date—I mean, they’re practically ruined from dodging the splash zone!

Krista didn’t text back. It was really hard to say anything after that because she wasn’t going to buy the woman a new pair of shoes, nor did she want Gary to know she’d texted Susan. It would only feel like she was snooping in – and she was.

“Curious,” she whispered, staring at her phone in confusion. “He didn’t mention any of this… I wonder why?”

The next morning, Krista huddled in her cozy, cluttered living room, a needle and thread in hand as she worked on the last-minute repairs to the costumes for the town's upcoming Christmas play. She was surrounded by scraps of colorful fabric, ribbons, and stray sequins scattered across the coffee table. The play was set to take place at the annual Christmas event in the town square—a beloved tradition that would unfold just days before Christmas Eve. She could almost feel the festivity in the air already, with the smell of peppermint and cinnamon likely to be wafting around, mingling with the laughter of townsfolk and children squealing in delight.

Every year, people gathered in the heart of town to celebrate. It was a true winter wonderland filled with the warmth of community. There were tables brimming with homemade goodies, cocoa stations with enough whipped cream to float a sleigh, and a petting zoo that delighted the younger crowd. The usual horse-drawn carriage rides might be a bit of a gamble after the mishap a few years back when one of the old wooden wheels gave way, resulting in a memorable firetruck ride through town instead. Last year, even their resident ‘elf’, Cade, had surprised everyone with a musical number that ended with him down on one knee, proposing to his now-wife, Beary, in front of everyone. Krista grinned at the memory; she’d have to work hard to top that kind of surprise this year.

This season, she’d volunteered to help with the Nutcracker performance because it was one of her favorite tales, and, well, it kept her busy. Christmas break, while lovely in theory, often left her a little too aware of the empty spaces in her life. Her parents didn’t help either, always over-eager to find out why she wasn’t bringing anyone home. It wasn’t as though she didn’t appreciate their concern, but with each passing holiday, their questions only grew more creative.

This morning had been no different. Over breakfast, as she buttered her toast and sipped her coffee, her mom cleared her throat—a surefire sign that something awkward was coming.

"You know, Krista," her mother began, her tone careful, yet with a hint of awkwardness. "Your father and I… well, we consider ourselves very progressive people."

Krista raised an eyebrow, not exactly following. “Okaaay? Where’s this going?”

Her mother leaned in, her face hopeful yet strained. “Well, if there were something big you wanted to share with us, you know you could, right?”

“Uh, like what?” Krista asked, confusion thickening her voice.

Her mother hesitated, looking for the right words. "Like… let’s say, if you were driving a green car and you actually preferred a blue car… you’d know you could tell us, right?”

Krista blinked, then glanced outside, where her red car was parked. “Mom, my car is red.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but if you wanted a blue car, for example,” her mother continued, fidgeting with her napkin, “no one is forcing you to have a red car. We just want you to be happy, because we love you.”

Her dad muttered something into his coffee as he flipped his newspaper, looking resigned to this morning’s strange conversation.

Krista stifled a sigh, keeping her tone calm. “Mom, I like my red car just fine.”

Her mother’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Maybe I’m making a mess of this,” she admitted, wringing her hands as her father muttered something about breakfast going cold. “But if, one day, you decided you wanted a motorcycle instead of a car, you know, we just want you to know that we would… support you.”

“Mom, I’m really not following,” Krista replied, pushing her plate aside. “Are you seriously asking about motorcycles and cars when all I want is to finish my coffee? I have fittings today, rehearsal, and I’m supposed to help a few friends meet up?—”

“That! Right there!” her mother interrupted, practically bouncing with excitement. “That’s why I brought up the motorcycles! If you need a motorcycle, that’s fine with us! Parade it around town! Just… be happy. We love you.”

Krista paused, her head tilting in bewilderment. “Mom, did you hit your head? Dad, care to explain?”

Her father finally put down his paper, looking her straight in the eye. “Krista, your mother’s trying to say… if you’re in the closet, you can come out. You’re still our daughter.”

Krista’s jaw dropped as she took in her parents’ faces, her dad stoic but amused and her mom looking so hopeful she practically sparkled. “Wait… seriously? ”

“Krista, we just want you happy, that’s all.”

She pressed her palm to her forehead, exasperation bubbling up as she looked at them both. “Mom. Dad. I’m not gay,” she said, her voice flat. “And you’re comparing this to trading a car for a motorcycle? Seriously?”

Her mother’s expression turned curious. “So… you’re in love with someone, then?”

“No!” Krista snapped, her cheeks heating up. Her thoughts immediately flitted to Gary. “Falling in love isn’t as simple as picking out a car model. It’s terrifying, life-altering—it’s not just a new ride in the driveway!”

Her mother looked momentarily confused, then softened. “But why would it be terrifying? Falling in love is wonderful!”

“I’m not discussing this,” Krista declared, pushing away from the table. “I’m done with breakfast—and for the last time, I’m not gay. I’m just… really, really bad at my own relationships, that’s all. If you must know, I’m better at helping other people find love than myself. And honestly,” she continued, voice tightening, “I’d rather go drive around town feeling like a loser than sit here while you two dissect my love life behind the scenes, wondering what’s wrong with me.”

She stood, arms crossed, as her parents looked at each other, speechless. “And for the record,” she added, tone dripping with sarcasm, “There is nothing wrong with me except that I’m afraid to put all my eggs in anyone else's basket. My eggs aren’t broken, rotten, they aren't fertilized, or out of season, pickled, or anything else that you could possibly do with eggs… but they are mine, and I’m really protective – and no! Before you start to discuss that, it’s a euphemism, and I’m not pregnant.” Both of her parents were staring at her like she’d lost her mind completely. “I’m not pregnant, gay, or anything else – just really lonely and a little pissed off.”

Hours later, Krista was still stewing.

Nothing was going right for her, and a part of her felt like everyone was looking at her strangely. If her mother had been talking with her friends about her ‘car versus motorcycle’ theory, then it was sure to be everywhere… which would not help her dating situation – or lack thereof.

Then there was Gary…

She sighed painfully, looking at her watch. Maybe it was time to take a few things into her own hands. She was a grown woman living at home because it was so much easier financially, but it was taking a toll on her personal life. It wasn’t like she didn’t want a relationship… she did! The craving for the whole shindig was almost overwhelming to the point that she could taste it.

Krista didn’t want a big fancy marriage, some grand house, or a dramatic proposal… she just wanted someone to look at her like she was special, like she was theirs. The idea of being important to another being, to make them happy, to light up their day, was so satisfying to her soul and part of the reason she started dabbling in matchmaking.

Her first crush had been in middle school and she had been so enamored of little Tommy Smith that it was almost overwhelming. Every time she saw him, she smiled. She followed him in the hallways of the school like a puppy dog. He was so kind to her, so polite, and her na?ve heart had insisted that he felt the same way about her… until the school dance. She overheard him talking with some of the other boys, mocking her and making fun of her.

That is when the walls went up.

She was deathly afraid of being hurt again. Her heart was soft, fragile, and longed for love, but she was so scared that if she let someone in once more that it would all fall apart once more. As she grew, those fears did, too. ‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall’ took on a whole new meaning in her head – one that was debilitating.

“Hey…”

Krista looked up at the voice from her seat and saw Gary standing there – and swallowed. It was like her very own angel had appeared to keep her from sinking into that mental abyss that threatened her happiness.

“Hey yourself,” she replied easily, smiling at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I happened to have an extra cup of praline-flavored coffee with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top and thought you might like it?” he began and hedged for a moment, looking at the chair nearby that was covered in a few costumes that had been haphazardly tossed there.

Krista immediately moved into action, yanking them off and clearing the seat for the man so he could join her. He easily swung his leg over the seat, reminding her of a cowboy slinging a leg over a saddle, and sat down before handing her one of the cups.

His warm eyes held hers, and she hesitated. She didn’t want to think about their fingers touching, the way he looked so handsome in his crisp red button-up shirt. He was obviously dressing the part of the holidays, making her wonder if he enjoyed this season as much as she did.

“You look nice,” she murmured, taking a sip of the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You bet,” he replied simply and hesitated. “You look stressed out – and I don’t mean that badly. It’s just a friend talking to another friend, you know? If something is bothering you or you need help, all you have to do is say the word, and I’m there.”

“Friends…”

“It’s just a word.”

“I am stressed,” she admitted, taking another sip. “I’ve got the play, got a few things on my mind, and my parents are driving me up a wall.”

“Oh? You too, huh?”

“Maybe it's a thing parents do?”

“What happened with yours?”

“It’s embarrassing, and I’d rather not say.”

“Same.”

They shared a silent look and smiled.

“Personal life?”

“Yup.”

“Prying?”

“Very much so.”

Gary sighed and rested his forearms on his thighs, letting his hands holding the coffee hang between his knees as he leaned forward in his seat. After a moment, he hung his head and shook it before looking up at her once more.

“My parents are all over me because I haven't married yet or had children. They want grandkids so badly. When Cajun offered for me to come visit, I jumped at the chance,” he admitted softly, giving her a sheepish smile. “And I feel so guilty for not going home to visit, but I also feel relieved.”

“At least you don’t have round two waiting for you when you get home tonight,” Krista muttered quietly, slumping down in her chair like her body was deflating physically.

“You live with your parents?”

“Yep.”

“What’s round two? I take it ‘round one’ was pretty awful this morning?”

“Round one was my parents telling me that it was okay if I was gay.”

“Oh – um, are you?”

“No.”

“Then don’t worry about that,” Gary chuckled and tipped his cup of coffee against hers. “You’re just a bit behind. That’s all.”

“What do you mean?”

“My parents did the same three years ago.”

Krista met his eyes, and the two shared another smile before laughing together. They sat there easily sharing something like that so easily between the two of them, that it surprised her at how effortless it felt to talk to him about anything.

“Why do they do that?”

“They mean well, I suppose.”

“Well, I have added it to my mental list of things I’m never doing to my own children.”

“Ahhh, you have a mental list, too, eh?”

“Oh yes,” she chuckled shyly, smiling at him as he scooted his chair a little closer to hers before leaning in and whispering to her. “Tell me one of your things that’s on your mental list.”

“Let’s see,” she began and felt him playfully bump his shoulder into hers. “I refuse to bring my daughter maxi pads to school in the container they come in. Instead, I’ll put it in a brown lunch baggie and play it off.”

“I refuse to tell my son to wear ChapStick in front of his friends, because it was always followed by a comment like ‘ someday when you get a little girlfriend she’ll be grateful for your hygiene.’ ”

“Oh gosh,” she chuckled, shaking her head.

“ChapStick all the time now,” he admitted, sliding a small tube out of his shirt pocket before tucking it back in. “No little girlfriend, but I do get chapped lips easily.”

“Tell me another,” she encouraged quickly. “And I’m glad it’s not just me.”

“Nope, it’s not. I refuse to ask my son if he’s wearing clean underwear before he goes out with his friends.”

Krista instantly laughed, nearly choking on her coffee. She was snorting indelicately, guffawing and wheezing, while Gary patted her on the back before rubbing it gently.

“It’s not that funny, you know,” he chuckled as she wiped the tears from her eyes and met his smile.

“It’s hysterical.”

“True.”

“And are you wearing clean undies?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned. “If I got in a car wreck, it would be the first thing they looked for at the scene. Now, you have to tell me another one – an embarrassing one.”

“Aren’t they all embarrassing?”

“Yeah.”

“Um, let’s see,” Krista began, realizing that Gary’s hand had been resting on her back, fingers tracing soothing circles in a way that sent warmth up her spine. She liked it more than she’d expected, and it made her smile. “I refuse to lick my thumb to wipe a smudge off my child’s face.”

“But just your child, right?” he teased in a low, mischievous tone that made her heartbeat hitch. “You’d still do it to your husband, though – or would you deny the poor man that universal mom privilege?”

“Oh, he’s not going to want that,” she laughed, shaking her head.

“Don’t be so sure,” he murmured, his voice rich and warm, his gaze holding hers for a lingering moment.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m positive. No man wants me to lick my thumb and wipe a smudge off his face. Haven’t you ever heard of germs?”

He grinned. “If you’re married to a guy and have kids with him, trust me, he’s already swimming in ‘cooties’ and germs. So, no excuses.”

“It’s still gross.”

“Says who?”

She looked up, ready with a retort, only to see a smudge of foam clinging to the side of his smiling mouth. His eyes danced with mischief as he pointed to the spot, clearly inviting her to take him up on his dare.

She shook her head, laughing. “You’re weird.”

“No, you’re scared,” he taunted, smirking.

“I am not!” She laughed again, feeling the laughter bubble up to disguise the nerves suddenly fluttering in her stomach. “It’s just… it’s my thumb. And your mouth.”

“See? Scared.”

“I’m not scared. I just don’t think it’s a big deal.”

He leaned a little closer, his smile widening. “Then it shouldn’t embarrass you. So, since this one doesn’t count, you owe me another one.”

“Oh, fine,” she sighed in exaggerated defeat, licking her thumb with a mock roll of her eyes. “Your germy face, ya weirdo.” She moved in closer, reaching to dab the foam off his lip with her thumb, their playful banter melting away in an instant as silence washed over them. The sound of rustling leaves, the distant hum of cars, even the chirp of birds – everything faded until all she could sense was him.

Gary’s hand closed softly around her wrist, his grip warm and tender, holding her in place as his eyes searched hers, dark and intent. Her gaze slid to his lips, so close and slightly parted, and her heart pounded, each beat echoing in her chest with a force that surprised her. Her breath caught as the closeness blurred everything else around them until she felt nothing but his touch, his presence.

Then, with a quick, playful twist, he nipped at her thumb, jolting her back to reality. She gasped, then burst out laughing as he grinned back, the laughter a welcomed break from the intensity that had charged the air between them. But as the moment passed, Krista knew – she could have easily leaned in and kissed him, and she suspected he’d wanted it too. She caught the way he looked at her, a mix of longing and regret, like he, too, was wrestling with feelings he didn’t fully understand.

Why had she done that? she wondered, inwardly kicking herself. Was it because she wanted to kiss him, this man she barely knew? Was it because she couldn’t resist his teasing? Or was it because she was falling for someone who’d soon leave her and Sweet Bloom behind?

“I should go,” Gary said, his voice low, breaking the spell as he pulled his hand away.

“I should too,” she agreed, though she didn’t move, her hand still lingering close to him. “This wasn’t… weird, was it? I mean, we’re just two friends chatting – and in a week, you’ll be on the other side of the planet, and I’ll be knee-deep in lesson plans. Two lives briefly overlapping and all that jazz.”

“Krista,” he began, his tone softer than before as he looked away. “Yeah, in a week I’ll be back in Afghanistan, and you’ll be here. But I’d like us to be friends, even after I’m gone.”

“So I’m not crazy,” she murmured, half to herself.

“No,” he replied, glancing at her with a small, rueful smile.

“Good. Oh, and don’t forget, you’ve got a date tonight with Margie.”

“Yes, the date you set up,” he said with a quiet sigh, his gaze not meeting hers. “We were supposed to make that T-chart, too, remember?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“We’ll get through this,” he said, his voice resigned. “One step at a time.”

“One day at a time,” she echoed, her words trailing into the silence.

They sat in the comfortable quiet for a moment, her sipping the coffee he’d brought her, his gaze shifting to the ice skating rink set up nearby, where he’d meet his date later. The thought gnawed at her, a faint pang she hadn’t expected.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, studying her.

She looked at him, feeling something hard to define. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Me neither,” he replied, barely above a whisper.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, his lips barely moving. “No… Do you?”

“Not really. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Oh.” He nodded slowly. “Then… what do we do?”

She managed a small smile. “How about we just finish our coffee, sit here a bit, enjoy the sun, and I’ll help you put away these decorations until… well, until it’s time.”

“Time for my date?”

She felt her heart twist slightly at the words but kept her voice steady. “I suppose.”

He gave her a sad smile, the kind that held more words than either of them wanted to say. “Would you be upset with me if I said I wasn’t really looking forward to it?”

She met his somber gaze, mirroring his slight, understanding smile. “Would you be upset if I admitted that I understand what you mean?”

They looked at each other for a long, unspoken moment, the undercurrent finally exposed but still left unaddressed. She’d set up these dates to keep things safe, to keep him at arm’s length, never intending to let herself feel what she felt now. Yet here she was, falling for someone who would soon be halfway across the world, a man who had dates scheduled with other women – by her own design.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she looked down, feeling the weight of her own actions.

“Don’t apologize,” he replied softly, his hand hovering close to hers. “I’d do anything…” he started, his voice faltering, eyes drifting back to the rink, where the empty space and skates laid out looked more like a final farewell than a romantic evening.

“I should go,” he said, rising slowly, brushing off his jeans. “I’ll meet you at the Cozy Cup later?”

“You don’t want me to introduce you?”

He shook his head, a hint of humor in his eyes. “After yesterday’s setup, I think it’s best if you stay as far away as possible. Keep yourself in the clear, right?”

“Gary…”

He gave her a short, gentle nod, offering her one last smile before heading toward the rink like he was walking to his own doom. She watched him go, knowing he was only doing this because she’d asked him to – sacrificing his time, his comfort, his own peace. The man she couldn’t have, but who’d given so much of himself anyway.

She stared at her coffee, unable to stomach another sip. She would have to find a way to fix this, somehow – even if it left her with a broken heart in a few days when he left for good.