Page 20 of Christmas in Watch Hill
ALL I NEED
A WATCH HILL HOLIDAY NOVELLA
ONE
IAN CRAWFORD
Three days before Christmas, and I was back in Ohio. Back in Watch Hill, to be exact. And a long way from Washington, DC.
Thank God.
I parked my rental car in front of Already Perked Coffee Shop and Café, a small spot in the center of town that represented my best option for a much-needed caffeine jolt. The flight from DC to Cincinnati had been turbulent, and I hadn’t been able to take the nap I’d expected during the just over an hour trip. Once I got to my aunt’s house, I knew the excitement of seeing me would sweep away any chance of rest.
Yep, a small black coffee will do me good, and start this trip off right.
Watch Hill, Ohio, wasn’t home.
In fact, I didn’t knowwhereI would have called home. Watch Hill wasn’t it, even though I’d spent summers and the occasional Christmas there as a kid, visiting my aunt and my cousins. Watch Hill was their home, not mine. Still, it felt good to have a place to go for the first holiday season since my mother’s death. She died last spring following a long struggle with heart failure.
I got out of the car and headed toward the warm, soft light streaming from the fogged windows of the coffee shop, which was tucked into a corner of Watch Hill’s main shopping center and surrounded by a few other boutiques and restaurants. I favored places like this one; their brew always tasted stronger and their drinks came with a side of love that a corporate joint couldn’t replicate. Plus, it always felt good to patronize small businesses.
But when I reached the main counter of the cafe, my breath caught in my throat.
“Jessica?”
The blonde woman standing near the sink turned around, her eyes wide and her mouth a little open at the sound of my voice. I was right.It is her.I would have recognized her anywhere.
Jessica Norman.
Oh, God.
“Um . . . hi, Ian,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s Christmas.” I shrugged, hoping I appeared more nonchalant than I felt. “I came to visit my aunt.”
“Of course. Right.” She looked away and a hint of blush rose to her cheeks. “I saw your aunt the other day at the grocery store. She mentioned something about having a full house for the holiday, but I didn’t connect the two.”
“She’s really looking forward to Christmas. More so than usual.” I glanced around the store, taking in the homey décor, the large clock on the far wall, and the long bookshelves full of knickknacks and well-loved paperbacks opposite the main counter. “So, uh, you work here?”
“I own it.” She smiled.
“Amazing. We . . . umm . . . we didn’t talk much about what you did for a living when you were in DC.”
“No, we didn’t.”
She shook her head and looked away again, not needing to elaborate. The time we’d spent together over Halloween weekend had been interesting to say the least, full of all kinds of instant attraction and a no-strings-attached one-night stand after my friend’s annual costume party in Arlington. It had been a long time since I’d done something like that, and I couldn’t explain it. Something had drawn me to Jessica, and I hadn’t been able to stop myself.
Hadn’twantedto stop myself.
“I should have done a better job of keeping in touch after . . . after that weekend. That’s on me,” I said. “But I did try to friend you on Facebook.”
Tried to friend you on Facebook? Is that the best I can do?It all sounded a lot lamer once the words left my mouth.
“I’m not on social media much,” Jessica replied. “I think it’s a waste of time.”
“Me too.”
“But I’ll check my friend requests when I have a minute and make sure you don’t slip through the cracks.”
