Mail-Order Brides For Christmas - Frankie Love Page 0,26
the ignition. Turning to me, he clears his throat. “That was Jo-Anne.”
“I gathered that much,” I say, wrapping my hands around the to-go cup. “And who is she to you?”
“A local girl.”
“And why does this local girl have such a problem with you… with me?”
“She and I… We went out once.”
“Once?” I lick my lips. “That didn’t seem like a one-date kind of attitude.”
“She wanted more. Won’t let me forget it.”
“It’s okay,” I say, unbuckling. “I don’t need to know your dating history. So long as you only have eyes for me now, I don’t need the details.”
Hartley lets out what sounds like a massive sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
He gets out of the truck and walks around to my side to let me out. His immense relief sounds warning bells in my ear. What did Jo-Anne mean when she said, this man doesn’t stick around?
Inside the hardware store I take the apron Hartley offers me and I walk with him as he shows me around. Organized rows and stocked back room. There’s a Christmas tree in the window, and a sleigh next to it with fake snow.
“Did you decorate?”
He chuckles. “Mom did that.”
“Makes more sense. You didn’t even have a tree at your house.”
He shrugs. “I’ve never gotten one before.” He turns on the register and then flips the sign on the front door to Open. “Would you like to get one tonight after work? We could stop at the tree lot.”
“You’d do that?”
He gives me a sexy grin. “Maybe after we trim the tree we could relax next to the fire.”
I smile, warming up at the thought of doing anything with him. “And when you say relax, you really mean—” But my naughty words are cut off as a couple enters the store, the man looking for lightbulbs.
Hartley flashes me a smile, lifting his eyebrows, as he walks away. The woman who just entered turns to me. “Is that Hartley Mistletoe smiling? Why, I never. Out of all the boys, he is the most cocky, and least friendly.” She clucks her tongue, shaking her head. “I like that change.”
I smile, not offering any details on why he is in a good mood, figuring everyone in town will realize soon enough who I am, and why I am working here.
But the woman can’t pry anymore because the store quickly fills with people needing rock salt and shovels for driveways, Christmas lights for their houses, and kids looking for sleds to take down the snow banks.
For the most part no one asks too many pointed questions, but it is obvious some people know what Joy Mistletoe has concocted, and it is apparent they are stopping by the hardware store on a reconnaissance mission. I do my best to answer their questions and smile, taking it all in stride. Every once in a while I see Hartley looking over at me with a small smile, like he can’t believe I am here.
It makes my whole heart fill with warm and fuzzies. Because this is what I was wanting — to feel like I might belong somewhere again.
When Hartley offers to go across the street to the cafe to grab us soup for lunch, I tell him I will be okay on my own. He chuckles, kissing my cheek. “Honestly, you are doing much better here than I ever have.”
With him gone, I busy myself wiping down the front counter and a display case of flashlights as a pair of women enter the store, eyeing me up and down. They look a few years older, maybe Hartley’s age, and they walk right up to me with crossed arms.
“So you’re Hartley’s latest conquest?” a dark-haired woman asks.
“Excuse me?” My smile tightens as I try to acclimate myself to her attitude.
“Oh, it’s just Hartley has dated every single woman in town once,” the blonde says. “Which means if you slept with him last night, there is no reason to believe you will be staying here for long.”
The dark-haired girl shrugs. “Who knows, he’ll probably keep you around until his mother’s plan works out and then he’ll toss you back to where you came from.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?”
The women cackle. “I’m Dylan, and this is Keri. And if you think Hartley is marriage material, think again.”
“You know… you just sound… a little bitter,” I say with a raised eyebrow.
“Bitter?” Dylan scoffs. “No. We’re just trying to give you some friendly advice.”
“Exactly,” Keri adds emphatically. “We’re being nice.”