Page 28 of A Gingerbread Romance

Because it would only end in disaster for her when he went back to the city and quickly found someone to replace her.

She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Look, Jonathan, if thingsweredifferent, I’d be willing. More than willing. But they’re not. You live in Baltimore, and I live here, and neither of those things is going to change.” She dropped her hands from his. A silence passed between them. She leaned back and glanced away. “Anyway, it’s getting late. We should probably get going soon, don’t you think?”

She didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to stop spending time with him, but if she didn’t pull back now, she might not be able to pull back at all.

NINE

Jonathan packed up the cooler as Greta took the empty bottle and plastic cups to the kitchen for recycling. He put the new tables and chairs back where they’d arranged them, his mind racing.

How could she be so sure? She’d admitted what he’d been hoping to hear.More than willing.They could make it work if they really wanted to, couldn’t they? She hadn’t even given them a chance, but she hadn’t completely turned him down, either. There was still hope. He’d seen it in her eyes, heard it in the tone of her voice.

He tugged into his parka just as she returned in her long brown coat, then threw his backpack over his shoulder. “Ready?” He forced a smile. No need to push the subject. She needed time.

And how had he gotten here? Just a week and a half ago, he’d thought she was all wrong for him, despite the way she made him feel. He’d thought he might even want to remain a bachelor forever. Yet, here he was. Falling for her. Falling hard.

And New Haven was only an hour from home. That could work, couldn’t it?

They stepped outside under clear, dark skies, and Greta locked the front doors to the bakery. Jonathan took a deep breath and let the cold evening air fill his lungs, forcing himself to give it a rest. He’d scare her off if he pushed things. She was already scared—he could hear it in her words, in the tone of her voice.

Jonathan glanced up at the colorful lights overhead. He almost reached for her hand again, but drew it away before he did, focusing instead on the Christmas music playing in the distance. The speakers must still be set up for the festival.

They strolled down Main Street past the last few tents and booths being taken down as vendors tidied up and loaded their trucks. The restaurants and bars seemed to be full, and a man and woman dressed as Santa and Mrs. Clause strolled by, arm in arm, probably on their way home by now.

Greta smiled at him, and to his surprise, she put her arm through his, the way she’d done the first night he’d walked her home. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t as scared as he thought? Maybe she needed to lead? Or maybe this was purely a platonic arm-in-arm? Either way, it felt nice to be close to her.

They’d walked another block, people- watching and commenting on the scene, when a female voice came from behind them. “Jonathan, is that you?” He froze, his heart dropping into his shoes.

He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, but Greta glanced back at the woman, then at him.

How in the world wasshehere?

His throat went dry.

It only took her another second to catch up to them. Jonathan turned around as Greta let go of his arm.

Carla.

“Itisyou! Wow, I can’t believe it!” she trilled with a glance at the buff dude beside her. “What are you doing here?”

It’d been three years since he’d seen Carla. Orhim.Three years ago that she’d moved her belongings out of their condo. That she’d told him she was in love with another man—her meathead personal trainer—and given Jonathan back her engagement ring a month before their wedding.

Three years since he’d gone on their honeymoon to Fiji alone. Because why not? The trip hadn’t been refundable, and he’d wanted to get as far away from the woman as physically possible. Turns out a trip to the other side of the world had helped. He'd come back better than when he’d left. But only a little.

“Carla,” he announced, already feeling the tension mounting in his chest. “What a coincidence. I should be asking you the same thing.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she said, not answering his question. “Your brother and Tim—do they still live here?”

Of course they did, and she knew it. He nodded.

“Well, it’s great to see you,” she said, with a little too much exuberance. How was she able to act as though things between them were completely fine?

Things weren’t good, but he’d gotten over it a long time ago.

“Likewise.” He lied, with a glance at the man next to her, who nodded. Carla had married Don about two years ago, or so he’d heard.

Carla looked the same, for the most part. Tall, slim, long brown hair, stunning, but overdressed in expensive clothes, her face hidden under far too much makeup. The woman came from money. She hadn’t needed Jonathan’s.

He blew a breath through his nose. Wasn’t that the truth?

---