Not What I Expected

As we approached the table where the other shop owners were gathering to judge the snowman competition, I turned and hugged her. “Love you, lady. You’ve got this.”

“Thank you, Elsie … Elsa.” She winked.

As soon as I turned toward the group getting settled in their chairs, Penelope, the owner of Spoons, gave me a conspiratorial grin. “So … what’s up with Kael Hendricks only giving you the Elsa face painting?”

My eyes shifted side to side. “Uh … I know nothing about it.”

“Well, apparently you left and the last few people in line asked for the same thing, and he said it was an exclusive Elsa for Elsie. What makes you so special in his young eyes?” She really punctuated the young.

I shrugged, tightening the scarf around my neck. “I think he feels bad for stealing my business this year.”

“Oh … wow. Has it been bad?” Concern kidnapped her playful banter.

“No. Well, of course competition will steal some business. I’m just kidding. I don’t know why he was being weird about the face painting. He’s kind of a goof like that.”

“He really is.” Penelope sipped her hot drink and shifted her attention to the snowman-making contestants fighting for fresh snow to roll into balls while playfully lobbing a few at each other.

“Where’s Kael?” Grant, the art gallery owner asked, leaning forward to see everyone seated at the long table.

“He finished painting faces. Last I heard, he was helping the Albertsons. Their oldest is sick, so they were struggling to keep up with getting trees strapped to vehicles,” someone else offered.

The Albertsons owned the only tree farm within twenty miles of Epperly. Holiday Fest was their biggest night for selling trees, but they did heavily rely on their oldest son to help get trees secured to roofs—especially since Tobin Albertson had a kidney transplant just four months earlier.

“Of course he’s helping the Albertsons. Last night he helped me clean the kitchen at my cafe when he saw my light was still on. One of my employees had to leave early. He’s a saint if there ever was one.” Penelope sighed. She had a husband and two young girls, but it didn’t stop her from swooning over Kael and his generosity. “I heard he’s removed snow from your driveway on more than one occasion.” She nudged my arm.

I nodded slowly. “Yes. He did. It was very kind of him.”

“I bet Bella has eyes for him. I know all the girls do. But rumor has it, he and Tillie have really hit it off.”

Stupid. Fucking. Rumors.

The head judge took the small stage, where the band played beneath a canopy with heaters, and announced that the competitors had to stop working on their snowmen. We judges were given sheets of paper to vote for our top three. Of course, I voted for Bella’s which she built with her friends. Nepotism was alive and well in Epperly.

They ended up taking third place, but no one seemed to care. The prizes were large gift baskets of products donated by the business owners in the square—including some cancer causing shit from Smith’s.

The band resumed its holiday greatest hits as the crowd navigated toward the skating rink and to the cash bar that also served hot drinks for the kids. I milled around the area, pretending that I wasn’t looking for Kael, but I was. And when I found him helping tie the last tree to the Buckman’s Subaru in the parking lot at the end of the square, I just stopped and stared at him.

He didn’t see me yet. He was too busy laughing and chatting with the Albertsons as they used brooms and shovels to remove the bulk of the pine needles littering the area, disposing of them in the big dumpster behind Spoons. After it slammed shut, Kael walked toward the square with Mr. and Mrs. Albertson.

I remained in the shadows under the awning to Raine’s Insurance Agency on the corner by the parking lot. As if he sensed me, Kael glanced in my direction. He said something to the Albertsons, and they continued toward the square as he trekked my way in his brown boots, jeans, jacket, and beanie.

“Spying on me, Mrs. Smith?” He grinned as he approached me.

My words caught in my throat, making it hard to breathe. Maybe I was broken. What if my heart didn’t know how to do anything but love?

“I need you to stop.”

“Stop what?” He backed me into the door.

My gaze shot around us, searching for anyone seeing his close proximity to me, but it was dark. We were hidden to anyone not looking hard to see if two figures were tucked under the awning away from the street lights.

“Stop being nice.”

“To you?” The corner of his mouth curled into a sly grin.

“To everyone.”

The toe of his boot hit the toe of mine, and it nearly made me fall to pieces. I had no idea how fragile my heart was until he shook it with a look, with a touch, with a simple kiss. He made it weak. He made me weak.