The Trouble With Falling

She picks up a pair of Uggs and I make a disgusted face. I hate that we even have to stock those boots. They’re not really warm enough for winters in Michigan but they sell like hotcakes.

The girl hums, looking the boots over and I can feel my left eye start to tick as I hear the wind pick up outside even more.

“We stock those more for the tourists or for fall weather. They won’t keep you that warm up here now,” I explain in a rush, hoping to get her out of here before we get snowed in.

“They’re so cute though,” she says wistfully as she sets them back on the shelf and moves on to a more practical pair.

She holds them up to me, waiting for me to give my nod of approval before she bends down to find her size. She takes her thin jacket off before she takes a seat on the bench to try the boots on. She moves so slowly that part of me, a big part, wants to rip the boots out of her hands and help her put them on. I refrain, but only just barely.

I close my eyes, counting to ten before I open them back up. By now, she has them on her feet and is bent over, lacing them up tight. She stands, taking a few steps to test them out and my eyes can’t help but to run over her.

For the first time since she walked in, I look at her. Really look at her.

Her mass of dark hair is tangled from the wind with half of it covered by her bright red knit hat. She’s pale, like the snow falling down outside, and tiny, or at least tiny compared to me.

It’s her eyes that have me pausing, half kneeling, in front of her. They’re bright blue and so clear that it reminds me of a lake or the ocean in Florida.

I get a look at the curvy body that was hiding underneath her jacket and my mouth starts to water. She’s gorgeous. And she smells like sugar and I want to lick my lips. Hell, I want to lick her.

Shit, where did that thought come from.

I haven’t so much as looked at a girl in years. I swore off relationships a long time ago.

I try to remind myself of that as she walks back over to the bench and starts to unlace the boots.

I’m a quiet guy and I like being by myself. I spend most of my time when I’m not at the shop working, outdoors. I like to hike and kayak, and I’m sure it shows in my muscles and tanned skin. Even in the middle of winter, I’m still tan and the difference between us is stark in that moment.

“You shouldn’t be driving around in this weather,” I say, trying to make small talk but as soon as the words leave my lips, I realize that was the wrong thing to say.

Her head pops up, her eyes narrowed on me.

“I’m doing fine. It’s not snowing that bad out there.”

“The weather changes fast out here in the winter. We’re probably going to get a few more feet of snow tonight and if you got stranded, you’d be stuck in that thin jacket and your tennis shoes. You need to be smarter.”

She shoves her feet into her sneakers and stands, tucking the boots back into the box and shoving it into my chest.

“I’ll take those,” she snaps, her blue eyes sparking as they meet mine.

I glare at her back as she stomps across the store to where the winter coats and parkas are. I realize that I never caught her name.

“I’m Elijah, by the way,” I say and I’m proud when it only slightly comes out sarcastically.

“Hartley,” she says, stopping in front of the first rack of coats.

“Welcome to Honey Peak,” I say and I see her turn to look at me.

Her eyes are speculative, like she’s trying to see if I’m being sincere. I make sure to keep my face blank as she studies me.

“Thanks,” she says, taking a step back as she clears her throat.

I cross my arms over my chest, sighing as I watch her grab a coat off the rack and try it on. She gives me a side-eye look back, taking her sweet time trying it on. She flips the hood up, shoving her hands in the pockets. It’s like she’s examining every single stitch and I let out a louder sigh.

I see her smile slightly as she starts to zip it, but that smile quickly drops when the zipper gets snagged halfway up.

“Here, let me help you,” I say, moving to crouch down in front of her so I can get a better look at what the problem is.

“I’ve got it,” she argues, trying to step back as she pulls at the front of the coat.