The Meaning in Mistletoe - Rachael Bloome Page 0,6

he tried again.

Oblivious to the world around her, the woman hesitated a few feet from the entrance.

Something about her pensive expression gave Jack pause, but he’d come too far to give up now.

Besides, for reasons he couldn’t articulate, he desperately wanted to meet her.

Her heartbeat thrumming erratically, Kat stared at the worn brass knob, but couldn’t bring herself to turn it. Suddenly, what lay beyond the bright teal door felt all too real.

What had she been thinking coming here? Did she really expect Penny to still have the brooch, let alone agree to sell it and split the proceeds with her? After all, apart from the whole having-the-same-mother thing, they were complete strangers. And Kat had every intention of keeping it that way.

Forming any kind of relationship with the woman who happened to be the spitting image of their degenerate mother was out of the question. For all Kat knew, the two women could share more than their outward appearance. Addiction was often hereditary, and Kat had already watched her mother self-destruct. She couldn’t handle any more heartache.

As she reconsidered her impulsive plan, she felt a faint tap on her shoulder. Instinctively acting on several years of self-defense training, she grabbed the large, burly hand and stepped backward swiftly. With a sharp, forceful twist, she pinned the man’s arm behind his back.

“Easy!” he howled. “That’s my favorite limb.”

Realizing what she’d done, she blushed and immediately released her hold. “I’m sorry, I— You caught me by surprise.”

“I can see that.” He rubbed his shoulder, his vivid blue eyes sparkling with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“I’m sorry about your arm. I hope I didn’t hurt it too badly.”

“No worries. I still have the left one.” He grinned good-naturedly, and Kat couldn’t help returning his smile. Normally, she avoided talking to strange men, but this one exuded warmth and kindness, instantly putting her at ease.

“Word of advice,” she said with a lighthearted tone. “It’s not safe to sneak up on people. I could have broken your arm.”

“Are you sure you didn’t?” He cradled it with an exaggerated grimace, and Kat’s smile widened, enjoying his playful sense of humor.

“Where’d you learn a move like that?” he asked.

“I teach Krav Maga, a combat technique used by Israeli soldiers. Although, my classes are mainly for self-defense.”

As he surveyed her petite five-six frame he appeared genuinely impressed. “Remind me to stay on your good side.”

“Who says you’re on it?” she teased, surprised to find herself flirting with this man. She didn’t flirt—ever.

“Does it help that I rescued your scarf from a pile of diabolical leaves?”

As her gaze fell on the houndstooth fabric in his grasp, her hand flew to her throat. “Oh! I didn’t even realize I’d dropped it. Thank you.” As she reached for it, their fingers grazed, and a pleasant warmth crept up her arm. Had he felt the same sensation?

Feeling like a romantic comedy cliché, she hastily wrapped the scarf around her neck and prepared to duck inside the antiques store, if only to escape the unsettling effect he had on her. She’d never experienced this type of instant connection before and it didn’t sit well. Once she got what she came for, she’d be on her way home, with zero plans to ever return.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee? There’s a great café right down the street. Cassie has a knack for knowing exactly what kind of coffee you’ll like. And Eliza’s desserts are legendary.”

Kat blinked. Had he just asked her out? “Oh, um… thank you, but I won’t be in town long. I’m hoping to find something at the antiques store, then I’m heading back home.”

Was it her imagination or did he look disappointed?

“I’m sorry to hear that. Apart from the dislocated shoulder, it was a pleasure meeting you…” He trailed off with a questioning glance.

“Kat Bennet,” she answered against her better judgment. What had gotten into her? She never gave strangers her name, let alone her last name, too. It felt oddly formal and unnecessary, as though she wanted to disassociate herself from her sister as much as possible, even though this man had no way of suspecting any connection whatsoever.

“I’m Jack Gardener. It was nice to meet you, Bennet. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

And with that, he turned and strolled down the street, leaving her bizarrely breathless.

Rattled by the exchange and the unexpected yet pleasant way he used her last name instead of her first, she pushed open the door and quickly stepped inside