Christmas on Main Collection

Chapter 1

Chapter One

AURORA

The sound of another glass bulb shattering on the shop floor is muffled only slightly by the joyful holiday music playing loudly over my cell phone.

“What was that?” Allegra calls out from the back of the shop.

It's been nearly a month since we've taken over running Christmas on Main. The transition for both of us has been a bit rocky, but we are working through the kinks one day at a time. Allegra oversees the business side of the shop, like running the numbers and making spreadsheets. I’m sure it’s much more complicated than that, but I swear my eyes glaze over whenever she tries to tell me what she’s doing. I’m in charge of overseeing the social media side of things. We will share the responsibility of working with the customers.

Which is what I was in the middle of doing when I knocked another Christmas bulb off the tree. I’m trying to make a video of the latest viral dance craze, but there isn't enough room in the shop to get it right without knocking something over.

“It was nothing.” I drop to the ground and pick up what pieces I can before using the toe of my shoe to sweep the remaining shards under the nearest display table.

Thanksgiving is a week away, and the views for the videos I've been posting around the shop have really started taking off. I've even had a few customers come and tell me they've lived in the surrounding area all their lives and never heard of Christmas on Main until they saw my videos.

“You broke another one.” Allegra does little to hide the annoyance in her voice. She already told me two broken bulbs ago to take my dance outside.

I flash her a sheepish grin. “Good thing we have a store full of them. A few broken ones won’t make a difference.”

“If you keep this up, we won’t have any more merchandise left to sell.”

“The lighting is better in here.”

Allegra points at the front windows, bright from the afternoon sun. “There is plenty of good lighting out there. Use it.”

It's moments like this that I know I need to pick my battles with my sister. We may be equal shareowners of this place, but she still likes to play the "I'm older and wiser, and so you have to listen to me" card. It’s not her fault. She wouldn’t have to so often if I didn’t keep messing up.

“Fine, but you are going to have to be in charge of the front counter,” I tell her as I grab my tripod with my phone attached and head for the front door.

“Try not to break anything on your way out,” she calls after me.

I turn with the tripod in hand, ready to tell her where she can stick her warnings, but the tripod swings into a painted miniature plaster gingerbread house. We both watch in horror as it tips off the ledge on the shelf it is sitting on and crashes to the ground.

“That one’s on you,” I say quickly and run out the front door before she insists that I clean up the mess.

Outside, the town is in full swing with preparations for Christmas. Lights are being strung up and down the main drag through town, and lush wreaths are being hung on every doorway in sight.

Someone has left their ladder near the front of our shop. I look around, trying to find the owner, but there is no one around. Whoever it is, they may have gone to the café for some coffee or the diner for a bite to eat. Either way, I need all the space in front of the shop to get my dance video done and uploaded as soon as possible.

I move the ladder to the side, out of my intended shot, and set up my tripod. I press record on my phone and step back into the viewfinder. The singing begins, and I move to the beat. There's no way I'd tell Allegra this, but she's right about coming outside for better lighting and more space. The sign for the shop is still in view for anyone watching to see and hopefully draw them in to check us out.

Just as I make my last turn and pose for the camera, I notice something behind me on the screen. I spin around.

"Oh my gosh," I yell when I realize they are legs belonging to a man dangling from the shop’s roof ledge.

A string of expletives that would have made even saucy Aunt Doris blush erupt from the man as he tries to hang on to the ledge to keep from falling. His legs swing around, trying to find something—oh shit, the ladder!

“Hang on,” I tell him, running over to where I moved it a few minutes ago.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” he asks angrily, but his grip on the roof releases.

I watch, my breath caught in my throat, as he drops to the ground.

Paz

I’m only given a second to brace for impact before I land. My right ankle rolls beneath me, but I manage to keep myself from falling over. I take a few tentative steps, testing out the extent of my injury. It’s not broken, but I’m pretty sure it’s sprained.

“Are you okay?” The female voice asks behind me.

I turn and find myself face to face with the woman I ran into at the coffee shop a few weeks ago. The one that looked like she wanted to take her hot coffee and toss it in my face when I mocked her choice of flavored latte.

It's clear from the way her concerned expression morphs into a look of contempt that she remembers me, too.

“You,” she sneers.

"Me," I say, matching her tone.

“What the hell were you doing on my roof?”

I glance at the shop and then back at her. “Your roof?”

She rests her balled-up fists on the wide curve of her hips, trying to look imposing but managing only to look slightly adorable.

This woman is one of Doris's nieces who inherited her shop. It’s still weird to think of anyone else but Doris owning Christmas on Main. I’ve seen the two of them around but haven’t formally introduced myself yet.

I easily have a decade on this woman, but that doesn’t stop my body from reacting to her beauty. Her heart-shaped lips and ample hourglass figure is tempting me in a way a woman hasn’t tempted me in a long time.

“I was setting up the Christmas lights,” I begrudgingly explain. She should be grateful for the help.

“We didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re right.” I nod. “Your Aunt Doris did. Before she?—”

The woman flinches at the mention of her late aunt’s name. It wasn’t my intention to bring up what I’m sure is a painful reminder of her loss. Even if she was careless about moving my ladder.

"You could have killed me, you know," I say as I limp over to my ladder and break it down to carry back to my own shop.

“I didn’t know you were up there.” She falls into step next to me.

The wind kicks up slightly, blowing the soft scent of vanilla and gingerbread in my direction. My dick twitches at the thought of her wrapped up in my arms and inhaling the intoxicating scent directly from her skin. This intrusive thought surprises me. I don't know this woman, and I have no intention of getting to know her. But every time our paths have crossed, she’s occupied my thoughts long after she’s out of my sight.

That first day we met, I found it hard to concentrate on my work. No woman has ever had a hold on me like that before. Probably because I’ve lived a life of constantly being disappointed by the people who should have been there for me. I keep people at arm’s length for a reason, with one of the only few exceptions being Doris. Maybe that's why this woman is slipping past my barriers. She's a relation to the one person I called family.

“Forget about it,” I say to her and myself. I don't want to let anyone in. Getting close to people is only going to cause heartache down the road. I'm not looking to deal with heartache.

“I really didn’t think anyone was up there,” she continues, ignoring me. “I was making a Christmas video for the shop.”

Of course, she was. What else should I have expected from a woman who orders a drink solely on the merit of whether it looks good on camera? What ever happened to living your life instead of trying to project an idealized version of yourself for others to enjoy on the internet?

All I can say is that you will never catch me making a video like that.

“That’s fine if you want to spend your life documenting everything you do," I stop and turn to face her. "But next time, someone could really be hurt by your carelessness."

Her lips part in surprise, like she’s not used to someone telling her like it is. But I’m not one to pull any punches, even if she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I wait only a beat to see if she has any biting remarks to make back at me, but when she says nothing, I turn back towards the door of my hardware store.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” I call over my shoulder before heading inside.