Page 5 of A Very Barrie Christmas
“Nate. Nate Henderson. Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem. What brings you to Poppy Creek, Nate?”
“I’m staying with some…” Some what? Friends? He’d never even met the Barries before. “I’m staying with Frank and Beverly Barrie for a few days.”
Luke smiled. “We love the Barries! Frank’s like a grandfather to my wife, Cassie. She’s Poppy Creek’s mayor and owns the Calendar Café. Best coffee in town, thanks to Frank, roaster extraordinaire. But then, I’m sure you already know that.”
Susan had told him Frank supplied all the coffee for the shelter, but had neglected to mention the man roasted it himself.Impressive. Especially for a guy in his eighties.
“Are you family?” Luke asked.
“Friend of a friend,” he said vaguely and quickly changed the subject. No need to delve into the details. “This is a great truck.”
“Thanks. It belonged to my dad. I’ve been putting one too many miles on it lately. I should really look into getting a separate delivery vehicle.”
Luke must’ve caught his questioning glance because he added, “I own a custom furniture business, and delivery is often included.”
“Cool. Must be nice to run your own business.”
“It has its perks. I appreciate the flexible schedule. Especially now that I’m a dad.” His features melted into a puddle ofpaternal affection, and Nate felt a familiar knot in the pit of his stomach.
Being a family man had always seemed like an unattainable dream, like winning the lottery or walking on the moon. And when his life fell apart after the military, the dream had slipped even further from reality into complete and utter fantasyland.
Who would want to marry a guy like him?
“So, Nate. What do you do?” Luke asked.
“I’m a security guard for a small jewelry store.” He hadn’t wanted to carry a gun again—or even a Taser—but it was the only job he could get. He’d never understood the expressionbeggars can’t be choosersmore in his life.
He refrained from mentioning his veteran status. People always said something awkward like, “Thank you for your service.”
“That’s cool.”
“It pays the bills.”Barely. “But I don’t think it’s what I want to do long-term.”
“You’re what—late twenties?” Luke asked.
“Twenty-seven.”
“When I was your age, I was still practicing law. It took me a while to realize I really wanted to make custom furniture. But I don’t regret taking the long road to get here. Thanks to my law degree, I met my wife. Now, we have our beautiful daughter, Edie. All those earlier experiences led to where I am today.”
Interesting outlook. Nate didn’t particularly care for the experiences of his past. Or where he’d wound up in the present. But he clung to the hope that one day, things would change.
He stared out the window, watching the lush, verdant landscape zip by. The scenery looked like a painting depicting the perfect winter evening.
Maybe this trip to Poppy Creek would mark the moment his life finally turned around?
CHAPTER 3
JULIET
Juliet Klein winced as a pudgy raindrop pelted her windshield. Her thoughts darted to the man she’d passed along the road. She wished she could have offered him a ride. She hated to think of him trudging miles in the pouring rain. But what if he was an axe murderer? Or worse? If he damaged the custom leather seats in her mother’s Bentley—the Bentley her mother begrudgingly loaned her when she left for Europe—she could add one more failure to the ever-growing list of disappointments.
No, she’d done the right thing. Single women shouldn’t pick up random men on the side of the road. Wasn’t that part of the safety course they taught at Reclaim? She’d worked for the nonprofit that helped victims of domestic violence and human trafficking for over five years. She should practice what she preached. Even if she couldn’t shake the twinge of guilt. Especially in light of the sudden downpour.
Maybe she could tell Frank when she got to the house, and he could give the man a ride? That is, if someone else hadn’t already stopped to help him. Someone else would stop, wouldn’t they?
The rain fell harder, pummeling the roof with an unrelenting percussion. Her stomach sank with the weight of added guilt. The poor guy would be soaked by now.Ugh. She didn’t needa crippling conscience on top of her debilitating stress. The first ten chapters of her debut novel were due the day after Christmas, and she hadn’t made it past the first page.
