Page 2 of Christmas in Watch Hill
“Are you sure?”
“What are friends for?” Jessica shrugged. “Besides, you’re in here almost every day, and you’ve probably spent at least a month’s rent on our coffee this year.”
“What can I say? You have the best in town, and I’m addicted. Thank you for this.”
After a few more comments about the weather and the upcoming Junior League Christmas fashion show, I left the store and started the short walk back to The Pink Box. As I strolled, I took a long look at the rest of the stores in the Eastern Shopping Plaza, a small shopping center that branched off from Route 50, the four-lane state highway that linked Watch Hill with Cincinnati.
Christmas had come to the community, and colorful lights wrapped around the wrought-iron railings and brick pillars. Garlands decorated the staircase leading to the second floor of shops, and a few bright holiday trees decked out in gold ornaments and red ribbons added charm to the patio outside Sam’s Deli, the restaurant where many people gathered on weekends to watch football games and catch up on town gossip.
It was all so tranquil, quaint, and—
“Oof!”
Broad shoulders, navy parka, burly arms.
I slammed into all of it, knocking the latte from my hand and all over my black puffer jacket. As I yelped in pain and surprise, the coffee clattered to the ground.
“Oh my God.” I pulled the soaking nylon away from my body. “Oh my God, I’m—”
“Are you okay?”
“No.” I ripped off the jacket, thankful that my gloves had kept the hot liquid from burning my hands. “Yes. I don’t know, maybe . . .” I stared at the now empty coffee cup.There goes my latte.“Crap.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Me too.” A nervous laugh escaped my lips.
The man scooped up my drink. “At least the lid is on, so maybe you can still enjoy some of it.”
“Thanks.” I barely looked at him as I brushed coffee off my coat, hurrying to do so before the spilled coffee set into the fabric. It was one of my nicer ones, and my stomach turned at the thought of having it professionally cleaned.Add another expense to the list.“I wasn’t looking forward to drinking the rest of it anyway.”
“Well, I hate that it was ruined.” He handed me the cup, and I looked directly at him for the first time.
“Oh, you’re Scott Parker.”
“Yes.” He laughed to himself, showing off a set of pearly white teeth set into a sharp, square jaw. “At least, that’s the name on my birth certificate. And you’re Nora Shaw, right?”
“Right.” I stepped backward. “How did you know that?”
“Everyone in Watch Hill does.” He pointed in the direction of The Pink Box. “Don’t you own that store?”
“My parents do.” I snapped my eyes shut and shook my head. “No . . . that’s not right. I do.Iown it.”
“That’s cool. I’m sure you’re pretty busy right now with the holidays.”
“We are.”We’re not.
I’d heard plenty of rumors about Scott—whispered comments about how he lost his first wife to cancer a few years earlier, he came to Watch Hill for a fresh start, and he worked in a downtown Cincinnati graphic design firm while also designing apps on the side that he sold to companies in Silicon Valley. Jessica had made more than one comment about him in the last few weeks, but I hadn’t seen Scott up close until now.
And Scott Parker up close was nice.Verynice.
I already knew from bumping into him that he had broad shoulders and well-developed, muscular arms. He rounded that out with longish brown hair that draped around his ears, and a pair of deep blue eyes that seemed as if they knew more than they wanted to reveal. My stomach dropped as his gaze met mine. I hadn’t felt that since . . .since I can’t remember when.
“Anyway, I’d better get back to the store,” I managed. “Lots to do before Christmas.”
“Absolutely.” He glanced past the bustling crowd to The Pink Box’s cotton candy striped exterior. “Wouldn’t want you to keep a customer waiting.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t want that at all.” I looked at my coffee cup. “Thanks again for helping me clean this mess up.”
