Everyone in Crescent Cove was sweet. It was a picturesque village, nestled against the long curve of Crescent Lake. At the holidays, the place really shone.
The big formal banquet room I was seated in was jammed with guests. Most were families, along with a good amount of couples and solo businessmen passing through the area due to the proximity to Syracuse. I lived in between Crescent Cove and Syracuse, in a town so tiny you could miss it if you shut your eyes.
Which you shouldn’t do while driving, especially in the fall and winter. We were in deer and wild turkey country.
Spending New Year’s Eve in Crescent Cove was a luxury. I didn’t have the funds to spare on such things, but I’d asked for money for Christmas from my sisters and my bestie just so I could splurge.
Now I was wondering if it was a huge mistake.
I’d thought I would feel less on my own in a crowd.
Wrong.
I’d had to wait a half hour for this table. There was holiday music playing, and cheerful lights twinkling, and every surface seemed to be decked out with candles and poinsettias and big satin red ribbons. People were laughing and enjoying time with the
ir loved ones.
And I was scribbling lies in my diary about how I didn’t mind that my sisters had chosen to return to campus early rather than hang out with their big sister. That I wasn’t at all jealous my bestie had a date for New Year’s with a guy she worked with.
Worst of all? The prospect of homemade lemon bars excited me more than the gorgeous fireplace suite I’d reserved to spend the evening—you guessed it—alone.
“Here you go. I gave you an extra one. On holidays, calories don’t count.” The blond proprietress smiled and set the plate in front of me. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Yes, actually, you can. I’d like some champagne, please.”
“Oh, sure.” She nodded as if it wasn’t weird at all I was ordering champagne with lemon bars after drinking water since I’d sat down. “Flute or bottle for the table?”
Did she know something I didn’t? Was it usual for women dining alone to drink a whole bottle of bubbly? Maybe on New Year’s Eve, anything went.
“Bottle for the table, please.” The deep voice barely registered. In fact, I didn’t even look to see the owner. He couldn’t be speaking for my table. I definitely didn’t know anyone who sounded like that.
Hello, man, not a boy.
The blond shifted away from me and I dazedly followed her gaze to where one of the businessman I’d noticed earlier stood beside the chair opposite me. I hadn’t seen his face, just the tidy queue of dark hair on his neck as he was seated. A solo diner, just like me.
Unlike me, he hadn’t been writing in a journal with flowers on the tattered cover. No, he’d been flipping through a thick sheaf of paperwork, and he’d barely looked up long enough to order.
I hadn’t seen his face, but he’d seen mine. Or else he was in the habit of joining strangers once the alcohol was served. Judging by his well-cut pinstriped dark suit and fancy Italian leather briefcase, he wasn’t hurting for money. I preferred looking at those things rather than his features. If his looks matched up with his voice—
Well, let’s just say I wasn’t in any shape to handle that level of disappointment once he rethought his decision. Because, seriously? Why did he want to sit with me?
“Oh.” The blond smiled. “Are you joining her?” She glanced at me. “Dinner date?”
Normally, the blond’s presumptuousness might have irritated me, but it felt as if she was on my side. Like she was making sure I wanted this guy to sit at my table. I must be giving off vibes that I did not know this dude. No matter how handsome he was and how important he seemed, a woman had to be careful.
“Two people eating alone on New Year’s Eve should eat together.” His deep voice caused a tingle low in my belly. “Sage, you know I’m harmless.” His smile was anything but.
The blond—Sage—raised an eyebrow. “So said Ted Bundy.” She smiled sweetly and shifted to glance at me. “Your call.”
He switched his briefcase to the other hand, allowing me to see the bundle of winter tulips he also held, wrapped with a burlap bow and with pine greenery overflowing the colorful tissue paper. Tulips were a weakness of mine, and I’d never seen a winter bouquet of them before.
As if he’d noticed me staring at them, he held them out as additional incentive. “For you.”
I borrowed a page from Sage’s book and lifted an eyebrow, saying nothing. But I accepted the flowers. I was no dummy, and the tulips were gorgeous. I could already imagine them in the center of my table at home, cheering me up as I experimented in the kitchen. The pale reds, pinks, and yellows were perfect.
“He can sit.”
Sage nodded. “Would you like anything else besides the bottle of champagne?”