Christmas on Main Collection

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

AURORA

“He’s nothing but a judgmental, arrogant jackass,” I tell Allegra as we set up the new price tags around the shop.

"You have been talking about him for three days straight,” she grumbles. “When are you going to let it go?"

“I’ll let it go when he apologizes.”

Allegra scoffs and rolls her eyes. “What does he have to apologize for? You were the one who nearly killed the poor guy while he was hanging lights for our shop. Free of charge, I might add.”

“You move one little ladder, and no one lets you live it down.”

“He fell off our roof! If he’d been seriously hurt, he could have sued us and poof, our store is gone. No potential buyers for us.”

She yells at me like I've forgotten that fact. But how can one forget when the Grinch next door has been seen limping around town as a constant reminder? I'm sure that he can't wait to tell people all about how I tried to kill him. It was not the best first impression I was trying to make in this town. We can't afford to have the community afraid to shop here for fear of getting maimed or worse.

“You just haven’t met a guy that didn’t find your sunshine personality instantly delightful,” Allegra says as she straightens some of the tags I’ve already set up.

Her words hit the target right on the bullseye, but I'm not going to admit that. It does drive me crazy when I meet someone who I don't instantly connect with. It's one of the few traits that I like about myself. A therapist once pointed out to me that my need for positive attention stemmed from growing up in my older sister’s long shadow.

I couldn’t compete with her grades or drive to be number one, so I found other ways to stand out. And it doesn’t help that the only good-looking guy in this small town is the only one immune to my charms.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, trying to change the subject from the handsome handyman next door to a hot meal from the diner across the street.

“I could eat.”

“Good,” I hand her the rest of the tags in my hand. “I’ll go get us some lunch.”

“Okay, but if you see any ladders, please don’t move them.” Allegra laughs to herself.

I don’t bother to look back and head out of the shop. Despite the decorations looking like the set of a Christmas movie covering all of Main Street, the one thing we are missing is snow. Central Coast isn’t a town that gets much of any weather other than bright sunny days. Ninety-nine percent of the year, this place would be the perfect place to live, except around Christmas.

The scent of greasy food cooking on the grills hits me the moment I walk into the diner. It's busy with a handful of tourists taking a break from their tour through town. I love seeing that most of them have their Christmas on Main bags next to them, and it makes me think that maybe Allegra and I can really pull this off. I just need to convince my sister not to sell but to keep the shop in our family.

I take a seat at the counter and open one of the laminated menus tucked in behind the salt and pepper shakers. Everything looks amazing, and my grumbling, empty stomach is urging me to go crazy with my order.

Taking my time reading over the menu, I've nearly decided on what to order when someone slides into the counter seat next to me.

“Am I safe if I sit down?” A deep voice asks.

There’s no mistaking who the owner of the voice is. Our limited conversations have been playing on a loop in my mind.

I turn and meet the penetrating gaze of Central Coast’s local handyman and hardware shop owner.

“I can’t make any promises,” I say menacingly, but it only makes him chuckle quietly.

Why is it that when I try to charm this man, he only scowls at me? But when I try to give his Grinch attitude back at him, he laughs. I can't figure him out.

“Here.” He hands me a sheet of paper. “I’ve put ladders on a special discounted price just for you.”

I look down and see a flier for an after-Thanksgiving Day sale at the hardware store. It’s my turn to laugh at him.

“What?” he asks, looking down at the flier.

“I didn’t realize people still hand out fliers to spread the word about an upcoming sale.”

He frowns at me. “I’m a fan of the classics.”

“Clearly.”

“Let me guess, your idea of effective marketing is making a dance video to get people to shop at the store.”

“Among other things.”

“You’re in Central Coast, not Los Angeles. The people around here are not so quick to change with the times."

“And you’re suggesting that I stand on a street corner and hand out fliers?”

“Among other things.” He smirks.

I press my thighs together, trying to ignore the heated tingle that flutters in my lower belly whenever this man is near me. I'm normally not drawn to a man with a beard, and he looks like he could use a haircut. But there is something about him that makes me want to lean over and straddle his lap.

My curves are sometimes too much for the guys my age. They don’t appreciate what a curvy girl can bring to the bedroom. But this man has a look in his expression that tells me he wouldn’t shy away from the challenge.

“I think there’s only one way to find out who’s right—me.” I point to myself. “And who needs to catch up with the times—you.” I point to him.

For once, the smile he flashes me isn't one of mockery but of sincerity. And I'm hit with a feeling, a familiarity that I can’t place.

“What do you have in mind?”

“The day after Thanksgiving is always a big shopping day. Why don’t we each trade our marketing tactics for the other?”

“How so?”

I lean toward him and lower my voice conspiratorially. "You'll hand out flyers promoting Christmas on Main. I'll make social media posts for the hardware store." I look him over. "Actually, first step, I'll create social media profiles for your store. Then, I'll schedule some content."

"And all of this will prove?"

“It's simple." I bat my eyes. "We'll settle once and for all who needs to get with the program."

"You,” he says.

I roll my eyes but otherwise ignore him. "And who best understands what the people really want."

"Me."

The way he says that, with his dark brooding stare centered completely on me makes my heart skip a beat.

I swallow to steady my pulse and hold out a hand for him to shake. "What do you say? Are you in or are you out, old man?"

His left eyebrow ticks up in mild amusement, and he takes my hand in his. "It's a bet."

My heart rate ticks up a notch. There's no denying the strength and warmth from his touch. It makes me wonder what else those hands could do to me if I let them.

At least I know one thing for sure. This bet of our is too easy. I already know I’ll win.

“By the way, I’m Aurora,” I tell him when I realize I don’t know his name.

“Paz.”

It’s not often I meet someone with a name more uncommon than my own.

“Is that short for something?”

“Pascal,” he says. “It’s the only thing short about me.”

I’m momentarily stunned by the boldness in what he’s said that I lose my ability to verbally jab back.

“And when I win,” he says softly, leaning close to whisper into my ear. “You will be modeling the new line of ladies' tools that I've started selling at the shop."

The woodsy scent of sawdust and woodsmoke makes me want to climb up this mountain of a man.

“And when I win,” I counter, my voice more than a little shaky. “You will be starring in a series of sexy Santa videos for Christmas on Main’s social media.”

“Deal.”