A Christmas to Remember (5 page)

The next morning, Ben walked out of the bakery and stood on the sidewalk taking a bite from his soft, still-warm bear claw.

As close to heaven as he was going to get.

He glanced inside to wave his thanks to the pastry chef but Leah Sullivan currently had her arms and lips entangled with her fiancé, who happened to be Ben’s cousin Jack Harper.

Ben turned his back to the window and ate his bear claw. Eventually, the bakery door opened behind him, and then Jack was standing at his side. He was in uniform for work, which meant that every woman driving down the street slowed down to get a look at him in his firefighter gear.

“Why are you dressed?” Ben asked him.

“Because when I’m naked, I actually cause riots,” Jack said, sliding on his sunglasses.

“You know what I mean.” A month ago, Jack had made the shift from firefighting to being Fire Marshall. He didn’t suit up and respond to calls anymore.

Jack shrugged. “I’m working a shift today for Ian, who’s down with the flu.” He pulled his own breakfast choice out of the bakery bag.

Ben took one look at the cheese croissant and shook his head. “Pussy breakfast.”

Unperturbed by this, Jack stuffed it into his mouth. “You’re just still grumpy because a pretty lady tossed her drink in your face last night.”

“It was an accident.”

“I know,” Jack said. “I just didn’t realize that you knew it too.”

Ben looked at his watch. “Luke’s late.”

The three of them had been tight since age twelve, when Ben’s mom, unable to take care of him any longer, had dropped him on her sister’s doorstep. Luke had lived next door. The three of them had spent their teen years terrorizing the neighborhood and giving Dee, Jack’s mom and Ben’s aunt, gray hair.

“Luke’s not late,” Jack said. “He’s here. He’s in the flower shop trying to get into Ali’s back pocket. Guess that’s what you do when you’re engaged.”

Ben didn’t say anything to this, and Jack blew out a breath. “Sorry.”

Ben shook his head. “Been a long time.”

“Not that long,” Jack said.

It felt like forever ago that Ben had been engaged, and then married. He and Hannah had been high school sweethearts in a different life. Then, like most teenage boys, he’d been unceremoniously dumped. Two years later, he’d run into Hannah at a party and they’d become college sweethearts. They’d done the mature thing and hadn’t married until they’d both graduated, and they’d had a solid marriage.

Until she’d died five years ago.

Ben went after his second bear claw while Jack looked at his watch. “Shit. I’ve gotta go. Tell Luke he’s an asshole.”

“Will do.” Ben washed down his breakfast with icy cold chocolate milk.
You drink too much caffeine
, Leah had told him, all bossy and sweet at the same time, handing him the milk instead of a mug of coffee.

It was early, not close to seven yet, but he liked early. Fewer people. Quiet air.

Or maybe that was just Lucky Harbor.

Either way, he was nearly content, and that in itself was such an odd emotion for him. He shoved the thought aside, uncomfortable with the feeling.

A few snowflakes floated out of the low, dense clouds. At his right, the Pacific Ocean pounded at the shore. The pier was strung with white lights, still shining brightly through the morning gloom. On his left was downtown Lucky Harbor, an oak-lined street of more colorful Victorian buildings strung with the same lights as the pier, still quiet and sleepy.

A month ago, he’d been in another country—hell, practically on another planet—elbows deep in a project rebuilding a water system for war-torn Libya. Before that, he’d been in Haiti for months. And before that, Africa. And before that… Indonesia? It was all rolling together.

He’d seen people at the worst moments in their lives, and at some point he’d become numb. So much so that when he’d gone to check out a new jobsite at the wrong place, only to have the right place blown to bits by a suicide bomber, he’d realized something.

He didn’t always have to be the guy on the front line. He could design and plan from anywhere. Hell, he could become a consultant instead. Five years of wading knee-deep in shit, both figuratively and literally, was enough for anyone. He didn’t want to be in the
right
hellhole next time.

Polishing off his second bear claw with one more bite, Ben sucked the sugar off his thumb. Turning to head toward his truck, he stopped short at the realization that someone stood watching him.

Aubrey. When he caught her eye, she dropped the things in her hands. “Oh,” she said. “It’s you.”

Her tone suggested she’d just stepped in dog shit with her fancy high-heeled boot. The tone didn’t surprise him. She’d been a few years behind him in school, and they hadn’t traveled in the same circles much. In those years, he’d spent much of his time either in trouble or on the basketball court—the only reason he’d ended up in college and not in jail. Aubrey had been the Hot Girl, the one with a sharp wit and sharper bite.

Few had ever messed with Aubrey.

There’d been an instinctive mistrust between them, as if they both recognized two like troubled souls and had made a mutual decision to steer clear of each other.

And except for the rare interaction, they had done just that. So he had no idea where the animosity between them came from. It’d simply always been there, like a limb. He crouched to reach for the things she’d dropped.

“I’ve got it,” she said, prickly, bending low to get her own stuff. “I’m fine.”

She certainly looked the part of fine; she always did. Her long blond hair was loose and wavy, held back from her eyes by a pretty pale blue knit cap. A matching scarf was wrapped around her neck and tucked into a white wool coat that covered her to a few inches above her knees. Leather boots met those knees, leaving some bare skin below the hem of her coat. As always, she was completely put together. In fact, she was always so purposely put together, it made him want to ruffle her up.

A crazy thought.

Even crazier, he wanted to know what she was wearing beneath the coat. “Where did you come from?”

“The building.” She scooped up her things, and he grabbed a fallen notebook.

“The building,” he repeated. There were three store fronts in this building, one of the oldest in town. The floral shop, the bakery, and the closed bookstore. She hadn’t come out of the floral shop or the bakery, he knew that much. He glanced at the bookstore.

The windows were no longer boarded up as they’d been the last time he’d been home to Lucky Harbor, and through the glass panes, he could see that the old bookstore was in flux. Shelves were scattered, half empty. Boxes were open on the floor. Someone was cleaning up, packing all the old stuff.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, reaching to take the notebook from him.

Ben didn’t know why he did it, but he held it out of her reach. “It’s a public street.”

Again she reached for the notebook. It was small and like Aubrey herself, neat and tidy. Just a regular pad of paper, opened to a page she’d written on. It was nothing special but clearly his holding onto it was making her uncomfortable. If it’d been any other woman on the planet, he’d have handed it right over.

Instead, he folded his arms.

She narrowed sharp, hazel eyes on him. “I want that back. It’s… my grocery list.”

Grocery list, his ass. It was a list of names, and his was on it. “Why am I on your grocery list?”

“You’re not.” She tried to snatch at it again but one thing living in Third World countries did for you, it gave you quick instincts.

He held it firmly. “Yes,” he said, looking down at it. “I am. I’m right here. Number four says Ben.”

“It’s Ben. And Jerry.
Ice cream
,” she informed him.

Bullshit. Straightening, he skimmed the rest of the list. “Cathy Wheaton,” he said, frowning. “Why do I remember that name?”

“You don’t.” Straightening as well, Aubrey tried to crawl up his body to reach the pad.

Ben wasn’t too ashamed to admit he kind of liked that. A lot.

Frustrated, she fisted a hand in his shirt, right over his heart. “Give me that!”

“Wait—I remember,” he said, wincing since she now had a few chest hairs in a tight grip. “Cathy… nice girl. She was the grade in between us, right? A little skinny? Okay, a
lot
skinny.”

Aubrey went still as stone, and Ben went back to the list. “Mrs. Cappernackle,” he read. “The librarian?”

With her free hand, Aubrey pulled her phone from a pocket and looked pointedly at the time.

He ignored this because his curiosity was getting the better of him. “Mr. Tyler.” He paused. “Wasn’t that your neighbor when you were growing up? That cranky old DA who had you arrested when you put food coloring in his pool and turned it green?”

Her eyes were fascinating. Hazel fire. “Give. Me. My. List,” she said.

No way. This was just getting good. But clearly far more motivated than he, she twisted the grip she had on his shirt, yanking out those few hairs she’d caught.

“Hey. Ouch—”

Aubrey got a better grip on the pad so that now they were tug-o-warring over it. “Seriously,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“None of your business,” she said through her teeth, pulling on the pad.

He still didn’t let go, even though his chest was on fire and missing a few hairs now. “It’s my business when you’re carrying around a list with my name on it.”

“Why don’t you Google the name
Ben
and see how many there are?” she said. “Now leave me alone.”

The door to the floral shop opened and a uniformed officer walked out. Luke, with his impeccable timing as always. Eyeing the tussle before him, he raised a brow. “What’s up, kids?”

“Officer,” Aubrey said, voice cool, eyes cooler as she yanked the pad from Ben’s fingers. She shoved it into her purse, zipped it, and yanked it up to her shoulder. “This man is bothering me.”

Luke grinned. “Should I arrest him?”

Aubrey slid Ben a speculative look. “Can’t you just shoot him?” she asked hopefully.

Luke’s grin widened. “I could, but there’d be a bunch of paperwork. I hate paperwork. How about I just beat him up a little bit?”

Aubrey didn’t take her eyes off Ben.

Ben cocked his head at her.

Finally she blew out a breath. “Never mind.” Still hugging her purse to herself, she turned, unlocked the bookstore, and vanished back inside it.

The door slammed shut.

“I thought the store was closed,” Ben said, absently rubbing his chest.

“It is,” Luke said. “Mr. Lyons is her uncle. She’s going to renovate and reopen it. She’s living in the tiny little studio above it.”

“How do you know so much?”

“Because I know all,” Luke said. “And because Mr. Lyons called. He needs a carpenter so I gave him your number.”

“Mine?”

“You’re still good with a hammer, right?”

“Yeah.” Ben’s phone rang, and he looked at the unfamiliar but local number.

Luke looked, too. “That’s him,” he said. “Mr. Lyons.”

Mr. Lyons opened with a gruff “Don’t say no yet.”

Ben sighed. “I’m listening.”

“I need a carpenter.”

Ben slid Luke a look. “So I’ve heard. I’m not a carpenter. I’m a civil engineer.”

“You know damn well before you got all dark and mysterious that you were handy with a set of tools,” Mr. Lyons said.

Luke, who could hear Mr. Lyons’s booming voice, grinned like the Cheshire cat and pointed at Ben.

Ben bit back a sigh. “Why not hire Jax? He’s the best carpenter in town.”

“He’s got a line of customers from Lucky Harbor to Seattle, and I don’t want to wait. My niece Aubrey needs help renovating the bookstore. She wants to reopen next month. I know damn well she can’t afford you, so I’m paying. For my sweet Gwen’s memory. Don’t give Aubrey the bill, and whatever you do, don’t tell her how much you’re going to cost me. I don’t want her worrying about it. She’s going through some stuff, and I want to do this for her. For both my girls.”

“You should be asking me for a bid.”

“I trust you.”

Jesus. “You shouldn’t,” Ben said. “You—”

“Just start the damn work. Shelves. Paint. Hang stuff. Whatever she wants. Can you do it or not?”

Ben started to say no. Hell no. Being closed up in that bookstore with Aubrey for days and days? Surely one of them would kill the other before the month was up.

But he couldn’t deny that he wanted to know what she was up to. “Yeah,” he said. “I can do it.”

Whether he’d survive it was another thing entirely.