Never Sleigh Never (Man of the Month Club: Christmas Novella)

10. Thomas

Thomas

T he thin aluminum blinds rattle as I tug them down, my jaw clenching at the sight of the sleek BMW parked in front of Coastal Charm. Cara’s ex paces on the sidewalk, his polished loafers clicking against the concrete. The tailored overcoat he has on probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.

I check my phone for the hundredth time. There’s still no response from Cara. The text I sent feels as if it’s burning a hole in my pocket. I should be focusing on the stack of invoices on the counter, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the scene across the street.

The scent of fresh-cut pine from the Christmas tree by the front door mingles with the familiar smell of sawdust, but it does nothing to soothe the knot in my gut. I tap my work boot against the worn floorboards, debating whether to go over there myself.

But what would I say? That last night I was the one tangled up in Cara’s sheets, memorizing every curve of her body? That I’ve fallen for her faster than a tree toppling in the forest?

I snort, shaking my head. As if it matters. Cara might have slept with me, but I’m not the kind of guy she ends up with. I’m all flannel shirts and callused hands. The guy outside is the type she belongs with, polished, put-together, probably knows the difference between white and red wine other than the color.

“Morning, boss,” Brad calls out from the back, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I grunt in response, still fixated on the window.

Brad’s footsteps pause behind me. “Everything okay?”

I force myself to turn away from the blinds.

“Fine,” I mutter, grabbing a clipboard. “Let’s get started on inventory.”

But as we’re counting boxes of nails, the slamming of a car door catches my attention. I drop the clipboard without a word and dart to the window. My heart leaps into my throat as Cara steps out of her car, her short blonde hair whipping in the wind.

Before I can think twice, I’m heading for the door.

“Be right back,” I call to Brad over my shoulder.

I skirt the row of traffic barriers some guys from the Magnolia Point Streets Department dropped off for the festival just this morning and make a concerted effort not to sprint across the streets if I’m rounding third for home plate. Christmas music drifts from the speakers outside the bakery three shops down, the cheerful notes at odds with the tension radiating from Cara and her ex.

I slow my pace as I get closer, catching snippets of their conversation before either of them notices my arrival.

“I’m sorry, Cara,” the jerk says, his voice smooth as butter. “I made a mistake. We were good together.”

Cara’s laugh is short and sharp. “Good together? I fell on my ass, hurt my wrist and then you dumped me in a first-aid tent in front of a bunch of EMTs, Wayne. It’s over.”

Is that what happened? Fury rips through me at the way this asshole treated Cara, and a flicker of hope ignites in my chest at her response, but his next words douse the optimism like a bucket of ice water.

“Come on. You can’t tell me you’ve moved on already,” he scoffs. “Especially not with that flannel-wearing handyman.”

“Thomas isn’t just a handyman,” she spits back at him. “He’s a business owner and—”

“That picture in the paper sure made it seem like you two were cozy, but we both know he’s not what you need.”

Picture? What picture?

Cara’s voice rises, sharp as a tack. “It’s none of your business if I’ve moved on or not, but thanks to you, I’ve sworn off men for the holidays.”

I freeze mid-step, feeling as if a rug has been pulled out from under me. Sworn off men? Sure didn’t seem that way last night. The words echo in my head as I turn on my heel, ready to retreat to the safety of my store, but Cara’s gasp stops me in my tracks.

“Thomas!”

I look back to see both Cara and her ex staring at me. Cara’s cheeks are flushed, her eyes wide. “I… I didn’t mean…”

The bastard next to her has the nerve to scoff when he realizes who I am. “This is him?” he says, his voice incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

I’d love nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face with my fist but hold up my hands instead and force a smile, even as my heart shatters like a fragile glass ornament.

“It’s fine,” I say to Cara, my voice gruff. “I get it. Last night was just…a rebound. Just…blowing off some steam.”

The hurt that flashes across Cara’s face is like a knife to my gut. Her emerald eyes, usually sparkling with enthusiasm, cloud over with a mix of confusion and anguish. Her lips part, as if she’s about to speak, but no words come out. Instead, she swallows hard, her throat bobbing with the effort.

For a moment, she looks so wounded it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to reach out and pull her into my arms, to take back the words that have clearly stung after last night. But I don’t. Because it’s better this way. Better to cut things off now before I fall any deeper in love with the woman staring at me who will never feel the same way.

“Thomas, wait,” Cara starts, but I’m already backing away.

“I’ll see you later,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral. “To…touch base on the festival.”

As I turn and stride back across the street, my boots feel heavier with each step, as if I’m trudging through thigh-high snow instead of sun-warmed asphalt.

Inside the hardware store, it suddenly feels hotter than a desert, but the temperature does nothing to thaw the ice forming around my heart. I lean against the counter, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You okay, boss?” Brad’s concerned voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts.

I straighten up, forcing my features into what I hope is a neutral expression. “Yeah, fine. Where were we on that inventory?”

As I throw myself back into work, I try to convince myself this is for the best. Cara and I come from different worlds. She deserves someone who can give her the kind of life she wants, all glitter and glamor. Not someone like me, with dirt under his nails and grease stains on his jeans.

But as I mindlessly count boxes of screws, all I can think about is everything I've learned about Cara as I've gotten to know her. Sure, there's the physical attraction—the velvety softness of her skin, the way she fits perfectly in my arms. But it's so much more than that.

It's her unwavering enthusiasm and determination, the way she pours her heart into everything she does. I've watched her work tirelessly on this festival, her emerald eyes sparkling with passion as she shared her vision. Her commitment to bringing joy to our community is infectious.

Then there's her kindness, the way she interacts with everyone in town. She has a gift for making people feel seen and appreciated, always ready with a warm smile or a thoughtful word. And I can't help but admire her creativity and attention to detail. She sees possibilities where I see obstacles.

And hell, her laughter. Warm and bright as the twinkling lights on Main Street, it's a sound that makes everything feel right in the world. Even when we disagree, there's a playfulness in her eyes that tells me she enjoys our banter as much as I do. But what really gets me is her strength. Despite the setbacks and challenges, Cara never gives up. She faces each problem head-on with a grace and resilience that leaves me in awe. This woman is a force of nature, and I want to be caught up in her whirlwind.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memories. It doesn’t matter now. Cara’s sworn off men, and even if she hadn’t, I’m not the kind of guy she’d choose in the end. Better to focus on what I can control, like making sure this damn festival goes off without a hitch.

Still, as I glance out the window and glimpse Cara disappearing into her boutique while the BMW screams off down the street, a dull ache settles in my chest.