The December Market (Shelter Springs #2)

12

Much to her relief, Amanda didn’t dream of Rafe that night.

She didn’t think she did, anyway, though it was always possible. She was so exhausted when she finally dropped into bed after staying at the convention center until nearly midnight on the first day of the market. When she returned home, she fell asleep without even taking off her clothes, other than her shoes and the bra she had whipped off the moment she walked inside her house.

One moment she had been on the sofa eating a frozen dinner, the next, she woke up with her cheek pressed into the cushions and her phone telling her it was 3:00 a.m.

She had managed to make her way to her bedroom, where she quickly changed into her favorite sleep pants and an old T-shirt. She had remembered at the last moment to set her alarm, then had fallen immediately back to sleep.

She woke up a few moments before her 6:00 a.m. alarm and saw through the slats on her window blinds that the snow that had been falling lightly when she drove home from the market must have continued through the night. She could see several inches weighing down the limbs of the pine tree outside her window, which meant she had at least that much on her driveway.

She sighed, wishing she could pull the blankets back over her head and catch another hour of sleep. Shoveling was not her favorite task, but it had to be done.

She decided to wait to shower until after she finished clearing her driveway and the front walk.

At least she wouldn’t have to feel guilty about not making it to the gym, since she figured the aerobic benefits from shoveling her own driveway—and sometimes her neighbors’—was enough of a good workout.

After donning silk long underwear and insulated jeans, she was grabbing her coat and her favorite matching hat and scarf that Birdie had knitted some time ago, when her phone buzzed with an incoming text message.

She saw it was from her mother, a message that was simple and to the point.

Call me when you have time. No rush.

She hesitated, then deciding she should probably get it over with, she dialed the number and placed her phone on speaker.

Lena answered on the second ring. “Hello, darling,” she said, sounding breathless.

“Is this an okay time to talk?”

“I did say no rush, but this is perfect. I’m walking Pepper and Peaches. Don’t worry, though. I have my earphones in, so I can talk and walk and hold their leashes at the same time.”

She could clearly picture her mother’s small white poodles, who were as spoiled as they were adorable.

“How are you, my dear?” Lena asked.

“I’m good. The market opened yesterday so things have been a little hectic.”

“You’re still working on that? Can’t they find anyone else in town to do it? I think you’ve served your sentence, don’t you?”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. I like being involved with the market, especially as it always benefits good causes. This year we’re helping fund the local food bank as well as an after-school program at the elementary school.”

Her mother made a small huffing sort of sound. “Well, don’t wear yourself out.”

Amanda pictured herself sound asleep on the sofa in the early hours of the morning, still in the clothes she had worn all day. “I’ll do my best,” she murmured. “Did you need something, Mom?”

Her mother quickly switched gears to her purpose in calling. “I’m assuming you know your brother and Natalie Shepherd became engaged over Thanksgiving.”

She tried and failed to gauge any undercurrents in her mother’s voice. She had never really been able to ascertain how Lena felt about Griffin and Natalie dating. She did know her mother had not been happy about Amanda’s relationship with Natalie’s brother, though she suspected Lena would have had the same reaction, no matter whom she might have dated as a teenager.

Lena had married young and had argued hard against Amanda making the same decision. In retrospect, from her advanced age of thirty-one, Amanda couldn’t really blame her. She was a completely different person than she had been back then. She wanted and needed different things from a partner now. Maybe Jake would have grown into the man she always believed him to be. And maybe not.

“Yes, I heard. Natalie came into the store last week to tell me.”

“I wanted to check in with you to see how you’re doing about the whole thing.”

She frowned, trying to figure out what direction Lena was taking with the conversation. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? I think it’s wonderful. Nat has asked me to share maid of honor duties with McKenna.”

“That seems a little insensitive of her, doesn’t it?”

Her confusion deepened. “Why? We’re dear friends. I’m honored.”

“Doesn’t it...hurt a little to see them planning a life together? I mean, you were once engaged to her brother. Marrying Jake was everything you ever wanted. His death was such a terrible tragedy.”

She had loved Jake dearly and some part of her would always grieve for him. But she wasn’t completely convinced that marrying so young, before she really knew her own mind, would have ended happily for them.

She couldn’t see what that had to do with Natalie and Griffin, though.

“I’m thrilled for them,” she said again. “They both deserve every ounce of happiness that comes their way and I can’t wait to celebrate with them. What about you? I’m assuming you and Randall will come back to Shelter Springs for the wedding celebration.”

Lena’s sigh sounded put-upon. “I suppose I’ll have to, won’t I? It won’t look very good if the mother of the groom stays away. When Griffin called to tell me about the engagement, I tried to convince him they should get married here in Florida. We have a lovely beach near our house. But he was having none of it.”

She could only imagine how that particular conversation must have gone down. Why would Lena think Griffin would possibly want to get married at some random beach in Florida, where he had no connection whatsoever to the place?

Her brother was committed to building his future in Shelter Springs, despite the sad memories he and Natalie both had here.

“Is that the reason you called? To talk about Griffin’s engagement?” Amanda asked.

“Partly. But I also wanted to invite you down to spend Christmas with us. Randall and I would both love to see you. It’s been too long, my dear. His daughters are coming to stay and bringing their children, who are so adorable, though a little bit noisy, if I’m honest. It should be a houseful of fun.”

“With all of that happening, you certainly don’t need one more person to entertain.”

“We haven’t been together during the holidays in ages,” Lena said, her voice disappointed. “I miss you.”

Lena could win a gold medal in the Olympics if they had a guilt category. She had perfected her technique over years of being married to a husband with alcohol use disorder. It had never worked, but that didn’t stop Lena from trying. The guilt trips didn’t work and neither did the yelling or the crying or the appeals to his conscience.

“I can’t, Mom. The holiday market takes so much time and energy and when it’s over, I am always slammed with work to do, catching up at the store and doing our year-end inventory. It’s just not a good time for me. I’m sorry. Besides that, I don’t feel good about leaving Birdie alone for the holidays.”

“Griffin and Natalie will be there, won’t they? They can watch out for her. Besides, she has all her friends at that retirement community.”

Yes. And you’ll have Randall and his two daughters and your five stepgrandchildren, the new life you have created away from us.

“It’s not a good time for me, Mom,” she repeated.

Lena sniffed. “I understand. I expected that answer. Every year I get my hopes up that this year might be different, but I should know better.”

Oy, the guilt.

“The holidays don’t work for me. But I was thinking about getting some sunshine after the new year, when things slow down,” she improvised. “What if I came down in January for a few days? We can Zoom with Natalie about the wedding plans, do some shopping. Maybe visit the art museum where you volunteer.”

“Oh, I would love that.” Lena’s tone perked up. “My friends would all love to meet you, too. A few of them have sons who are very eligible bachelors. I would love to set you up.”

Amanda could think of few things she would enjoy less than going on a blind date with the son of one of her mother’s Florida friends.

“Maybe,” she said, careful to keep her tone noncommittal.

They chatted for a few more moments, making tentative plans for a trip that hadn’t even existed in her head ten minutes earlier, then Amanda caught sight of the clock in her kitchen.

“I need to go, Mom. I’m sorry. We had about three inches of snow last night, so I need to shovel the driveway and the sidewalk out front of Rose Cottage before I head into the shop.”

“I don’t miss the Idaho snow, I’ll tell you that much. The humidity here kills me sometimes, but I would rather deal with frizzy hair than have to drive in a blizzard.”

They hung up soon after, and Amanda quickly finished gearing up to go outside and grabbed a snow shovel out of her small garage.

The sun wouldn’t be fully up for another half hour but in the early light of dawn, the world looked magical. Her neighbors had left their Christmas lights on all night, and they gleamed through a layer of snow, bright and festive.

She loved this place.

Not just her beloved cottage, but this street, this town, where neighbors looked out for each other.

Lena couldn’t wait to leave Shelter Springs. She had wanted to go even before the accident, when Amanda’s father had climbed behind the wheel with a blood alcohol count twice the legal limit and had ended up decimating so many lives.

Prior to the accident, she had stayed because Amanda had begged to finish high school in Shelter Springs. Afterward, Lena had wanted to move immediately, unable to bear the whispers and the gossip about her ex-husband.

Amanda had been eighteen when her mother took off. Lena had begged her to go with her to Florida. She had wanted Amanda to finish high school there and then attend a Florida university.

Life would have turned out much differently if she had given in and agreed to the move, but she hadn’t been willing to leave Jake or her friends.

What would have happened if she had left? She wondered anew as she started clearing the driveway. It was impossible to know which of her choices might have taken her in an entirely new direction.

If she had moved to Florida, she and Jake likely wouldn’t have become engaged. She wouldn’t have ended up giving him back his ring in hopes that it would help him come to his senses.

If none of that had happened, would he have gone on a bender, drunk before he ever headed out to go snowboarding with Griffin and decided to ski into the avalanche prone off-limits area?

She would never know the answer to that but she was still thinking about the ripple effect of choices when she heard someone call her name.

She turned toward the street to find two figures standing where her driveway met the street, a tall, muscular man and a small boy, each holding snow shovels.

“Hi, Ms. Taylor,” Isaac chirped cheerfully. “Can we help you shovel? I have my very own.”

He held out a miniature shovel with a blue plastic blade.

“I see. It looks great. But you don’t have to do that. I’m nearly done, anyway.”

“We’re helping all the neighbors,” Isaac said. “I asked my dad if we could do yours next and he said yes.”

Without waiting for a response, he started pushing snow in a wobbly line on the sidewalk that ran in front of her house. The boy looked so pleased with himself, chewing his bottom lip in concentration, she didn’t have the heart to discourage him.

Rafe took a few steps toward her. He wasn’t wearing a hat or beanie and a few random snowflakes caught in his dark hair.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “He’s not perfect at it, but he loves to help people.”

Isaac was as hard to resist as his father. She gestured to Rafe’s cast.

“I should be helping you clear your own driveway. I doubt shoveling snow is on your doctor’s list of approved activities.”

“Like climbing ladders?”

“Exactly.”

His smile flashed in the pearly predawn light. “I’m only using this arm for leverage. The right one is doing all the work.”

As she watched him dig beside her, she saw that he was holding the shovel against his cast and pushing and lifting with his right arm. She still didn’t think it was a good idea, but she certainly was not his mother and had no right to tell him what to do.

Together, the three of them cleared her driveway, the sidewalk that ran along the front of her cottage and the one leading up to her porch.

They then moved next door to her neighbor’s house and had that one done in no time. As far she could tell, all the other houses on the street had already been cleared.

“How long have you been out here shoveling for everyone?” she asked. Her breath came out in puffs and she could imagine her nose and cheeks were rosy with the cold.

“About an hour,” Rafe answered. “We’re about to take a break and go home for some breakfast.”

“We’re working men,” Isaac chimed in. “We have to keep up our strength.”

He looked so proud of himself that Amanda had to smile. “Exactly right.”

She paused, an idea forming. The words spilled out before she could think them through. “If you have time, I would be happy to fix you breakfast. I make really good Mickey Mouse pancakes.”

Rafe looked startled at the offer. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do to repay you for helping me shovel and for taking care of the neighbors so that I don’t feel compelled to help them on my own.”

“I’m sure you have a million things to do this morning. You have to get to your store, don’t you?”

She was suddenly filled with misgivings, wishing she had never said anything. Amanda knew she should probably take the out he was offering her. Then she looked at his cute son, glasses fogging up and a red beanie pulled down over his forehead. Yes. Isaac Arredondo was completely irresistible.

“I have an hour before I need to head in. Pancakes sound delicious to me. I’ll make them for myself, with or without guests.”

“Can we, Dad?” Isaac urged. “I love pancakes.”

He sighed. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

“Positive,” she lied.

She led the way up the steps, stamping snow off her boots on the front mat that featured a cute little robin in a Christmas sweater.

When she opened the door, Amanda experienced a whole host of misgivings. She wasn’t certain she wanted Rafe inside her private sanctuary.

Too late now. She could not renege on an invitation. She would simply have to make the best of it.

She led the way inside, wondering what he would think of her little cottage. She hadn’t made any major redecorating changes since her grandmother had moved out two years before, though she had replaced the carpeting that tended to trip her grandmother, finishing the wood flooring underneath by herself.

“You can leave your coats and things here,” she said, gesturing to the coatrack in the entryway at the same moment that her two cats sauntered into the foyer, tails raised and ears perked at the newcomers.

“You have cats! I love cats,” Isaac said. “What are their names?”

“The black one is Oscar and the orange-striped one is named Willow.”

“Can I play with them?” he asked, already shrugging out of his coat, mittens and hat.

“I think they would love that. They are very nice and they love any kind of attention.”

She turned on the gas fireplace for warmth in the open-plan space before moving to the kitchen area that she and Birdie had renovated after she moved in with her grandmother, when Birdie’s eyesight began to worsen.

Their efforts had made the kitchen more efficient, and Amanda loved the extra window they had added above the sink, which brought in more light and warmth.

She had already made coffee while on the phone with her mother earlier and now she poured some for Rafe. He took the mug from her and sipped.

“This is nice,” he said, leaning against the counter and gesturing to her comfortable space.

“I like it,” Amanda said, pulling items out of the refrigerator. “My grandmother lived here all my life. Most of hers, actually. She and my grandfather bought it only a few years after they were married.”

She set several strips of bacon in the frying pan then placed her griddle on the other burner.

“How can I help? I can watch the bacon for you, if you want.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

He moved to the cooktop while she started mixing together the ingredients for pancakes, wishing she were wearing something a little more attractive than jeans and a blue silk long underwear top.

There was something cozy and domestic about working together in the kitchen. He seemed perfectly at home turning the bacon with the tongs she provided, while delicious scents swirled around them.

When she stepped toward the cooktop to add pancake batter to the heated griddle, her shoulder brushed his and she was instantly hot from more than the cooking flame.

The proximity was both unnerving and strangely exhilarating.

Their gazes locked and she saw a flare of awareness in his dark eyes as sudden heat seemed to crackle between them.

What was happening? She let out a breath, forcing herself to relax.

“Isaac is such a sweetheart,” she said, forcing herself to focus on something else. “You’re doing a good job with him. It can’t be easy as a single father.”

He turned back to the bacon, and she breathed a sigh of relief and added batter to the griddle.

“Thank you, but I’m not sure I’m doing even an adequate job most of the time. It sometimes feels like I’m barely keeping our heads above water.”

Compassion seeped through her, alongside the glittery awareness. “I can’t imagine how tough it must be to handle everything on your own.”

“I’m not really on my own. My family is a big help. He spends more time at his grandparents’ house than he does at our place.”

“He must miss his mother,” she said, then immediately regretted bringing up the subject. At least it helped her focus on something else beyond her instinctive response to him.

“Yeah. Sometimes. But Caitlin has been gone for three years. His memories of her have faded over the years.”

What about your memories?

She didn’t say the words as she carefully flipped the pancakes, while beside her, he removed the bacon from the frying pan and took it off the burner.

“Time can be a gentle healer,” she said softly as she scooped the first batch of pancakes off the griddle to a plate, concentrating on the task instead of the man she found entirely too fascinating. “I have found its passing helps the pain to fade a little more every day.”

“Yes,” he agreed. His voice sounded raspy and her gaze again flew to his. He was looking at her with an expression that made her pulse speed and her breath catch.

She couldn’t seem to look away, caught by his intense study of her.

Later, she wasn’t exactly sure which of them moved first. One moment, they were standing side by side at the cookstove. The next, his mouth lowered to hers and she was frozen by shock and a sharp, delicious thrill.

Was Rafe Arredondo actually kissing her here in her kitchen, or was this just another of those strange dreams haunting her?

It certainly felt real enough. She could smell the clean, masculine scent of him, more mouthwatering than the breakfast smells around him. He tasted of coffee and mint and something indefinable and addictive.

His body was warm and muscled against her, a steady sort of strength she longed to sink into.

The kiss couldn’t have lasted long. A few seconds, maybe. They might have kissed longer, until the kitchen burned down around them, when something hard thumped against her shoulder, shocking her back to reality.

What was that ? She slid her mouth away from his and took a shaky step back, blinking hard as the kitchen came back into focus.

This definitely wasn’t a dream. She was standing in front of a hot stove kissing Rafe Arredondo—who had a large fiberglass cast on his arm.