One Sweet Christmas (Sweeter in the City Book 4) Read online

  Christmas music bleated over a speaker—something a little jazzier and trendier than the family-friendly offerings he had playing over at the lot—and a rope of garland edged the counter. No line. No one who seemed to be working, either.

  He was just turning to go when he saw the kitchen door swing open and a cascade of ash blond hair that made his pulse skip.

  “Yes, can I—” The girl stopped tying her apron and stared at him, all color in her cheeks fading as quickly as her smile. Her big, grey eyes blinked a few times, and at first he wasn’t even sure she would say anything. “Pete.”

  His mouth felt dry as the room went completely still. He stared at the girl in front of him as time seemed to slow and a hundred memories he’d tried to bury flooded to the surface. Memories of walking hand in hand through the crunchy autumn leaves, the smell of her shampoo when he held her close, the sound of her laugh, soft in his ear.

  He knew he needed to say something, that he couldn’t stand here staring at her forever, even though there was a time and place when he could have done just that. She was looking at him with those big, round eyes, made even bigger by the shock, he was sure, and even in the silence, it was like a million words were spoken between them.

  “Hailey. I—” He swallowed hard, unsure of the appropriate thing to say to the woman who had broken his heart eight years ago. “Hello.”

  Her expression was blank. Unreadable. Once there was a time when he knew every thought. Every emotion. Every hope. Every dream.

  But then, that was a long time ago.

  Her blonde hair fell at her shoulders, just like it had all those years ago. She wore a cream-colored turtleneck, soft and form fitting, accentuating every curve he knew by heart. But it was her eyes…it was her eyes that undid him, that made his chest pull with longing for a time and place he could never go back to.

  “What brings you to Chicago?” She squinted at him, realization lighting her eyes. “Wait. Is that your tree lot across the street?”

  Of all the corners. “That it is,” he said, managing something of a smile.

  “So you’re still at it then. I wasn’t sure if…” She shook her head, covering her embarrassment with a smile. But he knew what she meant. She wasn’t sure if he’d stuck with it.

  “I’m running the farm now, actually,” he offered.

  Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A promotion then!”

  “More like an inheritance,” he corrected. He hesitated. Months had passed, but it was still hard to form the words, to hear them aloud. “My dad passed away over the summer.”

  Hailey’s face immediately fell, and damn it if her eyes didn’t begin to shine. “Oh. Oh, no. I’m so sorry to hear that.” She blinked quickly and looked down at her hands. Long thin fingers interlaced. Piano hands, he’d always chided, knowing she couldn’t play, that she’d quit lessons when she was eight, and lived to regret it.

  “It’s okay,” he said, only because that’s what he was used to saying by now. He studied her face in concern, a little caught off guard by the intensity of her reaction. She’d always gotten along well with his dad. She was one of the only people who would sit down and play chess with him in that dark study off the kitchen. Pete could still remember the way his father would have the board all set up in anticipation of her visits, the way Pete stifled his impatience, wanting to slip upstairs with her instead.

  Pete looked down at his shoes now, suddenly wishing he’d feigned interest in the game. Sat across from the old man just a few times. Humored him. Instead he’d always made an excuse, turned his back, left the room.

  Well, he wouldn’t turn his back again. And he hadn’t. Not since that first stroke that left his father incapable of running the farm on his own.

  “And your family?” Pete asked, eager to change the subject.

  “Oh, they’re still in St. Louis. My cousin lives here, though,” she said. “Claire? She’s engaged now. To a man from Wisconsin, actually.”

  “Small world,” Pete said, feeling himself stiffen a little. His living there was still a sore spot between them, even now after all this time.

  “Yes, I suppose.” Hailey looked at him hesitantly as the entire room seemed to fall silent. The radio felt disproportionately loud.

  “Business going well?” he asked, sweeping his gaze over the room. A college-aged girl near the window sat hunched over a laptop while a man in the corner sat sipping a coffee.

  “Oh, very well,” Hailey said, but she struggled to meet his eye and her smile was a notch brighter than natural. “And for you? How’s the family business?”

  “Never better,” Pete said tightly. And it would be, if he had anything to do with it.

  “So, I guess we both made the right choice, then,” Hailey said, her eyes turning a little flat.

  His gaze bored through her hers, and he fought the urge to correct her, to set things straight. He couldn’t nod, couldn’t murmur his agreement. The way he saw it, there was no choice about it. His father hadn’t left him with one. Neither had Hailey.

  “Well, I should get back to the lot.” But even as he said it, he couldn’t bring himself to back up from the counter. It was a small world. Too small in many ways. And today the universe had thrown him a curve ball.

  “You in town for long?” Hailey asked, leaning a hip against the counter, and Pete refused to detect any interest in her tone, any insinuation behind the question other than a simple pleasantry.

  “Just until Christmas Eve.”

  She nodded once. “Of course. Wouldn’t expect you to stick around any longer than you had to.”

  He narrowed his eyes, detecting a hint of bitterness in her tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that the city isn’t your thing.” She shrugged, but her chin was jutted in defense.

  “I never said the city wasn’t my thing,” he replied evenly, feeling his temper stir as the memory of that horrible day flooded back. Hell, he’d been prepared to live anywhere, and he would have, if it meant a life with her.

  The same couldn’t be said for Hailey, though.

  She tipped her head, and he noticed that her face had gone white as her grey eyes darkened with hurt. “Then maybe I just wasn’t your thing,” she said crisply.

  He took a step forward. “Hey, I was the one who was ready to commit. You were the one who had to put your dreams before me.”

  “And what about your dreams?” she asked, her voice softer.

  Without stopping to pause, he grinned and said, “I’m living it.” It was a lie, a flat-out lie, but he’d be damned if he’d let her see it anymore than he’d admit it to himself. Anger coursed through his blood, bringing back all that pain, all the rejection, and he backed away from the counter, no longer wanting to linger, but this time, eager to leave.

  A bell jingled, turning his attention to the door, where an elderly woman was struggling against the wind. He walked over to assist her and then hovered on the mat, torn between leaving or staying, and choosing, as he had the last time they’d met, to follow his head and do the rational thing. “I’ll see you, Hailey.”

  She didn’t reply, and he tried not to care. He hoped he wouldn’t see her again almost as much as he hoped that he would. That somehow, someday, there would be a way to right the wrongs, that she would do something, anything, that would take away this ache in his chest when he thought back to that time in his life, when everything felt bright and possible, compared to now, when it all felt so bleak.

  Mike was in the tree lot when he crossed street, his mind still reeling from the interaction as he struggled to even believe it had even happened at all. Hailey Wells. The girl he’d known inside out. The girl he’d loved with all his heart. Who could make him laugh, make him smile, make him feel things he’d never felt again.

  “Got the digits,” Mike said, grinning like a little boy on Christmas morning.

  “Good for you,” Pete said, pushing past him to the trailer. He stomped the snow off his boots and slammed
the door, without a look back at the city, or the girl who’d left him for it.

  “Hey, what about lunch?” he heard Mike cry as he turned on his computer and stared at the screen, wondering if he’d made the right choice all those years back when he’d given up the only girl he’d ever loved for a failing tree farm.

  Chapter Three

  Twenty days. Twenty more days and Christmas would be here. And Pete would be gone. Again.

  Hailey glanced over at the tree lot as she secured her wreath to the front door of the café. The wind was strong today, and the ring of evergreen had been flapping against the glass all morning, making her jump each time and threatening to give her a headache if it continued much longer. The snow was coming down hard, coating the branches in a heavy white blanket and making it difficult to identify the faces of the people from this distance. Yesterday she hadn’t dared to look across the street. In fact, she’d deliberately avoided another run in with Pete by taking the alley door into and out of the café, and she’d done the same this morning, even if it was a half a block out of her way, and even if that wind was fierce, whipping right through her wool coat.

  Pete must be cold, she thought, letting her gaze linger as she finished securing the wreath. A sense of calm rolled through her shoulders as she continued to stare. See. This wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like he would ever know she was watching him. And it wasn’t like she was even looking for him. Not really. No, she was just looking at the snow. Enjoying the view.

  And wondering if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life eight years ago.

  Had he ever thought of her? In all these years, he’d never written, emailed, or called. Nope, when it was over, it was over. She’d thought they would still keep in touch, that in time he might come to his senses, but instead he’d disappeared.

  He hadn’t even sent a Christmas card.

  He’d probably moved on. Found someone else. She pinched her lips tight. No sense in getting worked up about that. She ran the risk of another girl moving in on him the day she turned down his offer to move to Timber Valley, Wisconsin.

  And the other offer that accompanied it.

  Shivering in just her sweater and apron, she went inside and refreshed the coffee basket for its next brew, but her heart still stung like it did every time she thought of that day, which wasn’t very often. Moving to Chicago, opening this café, and surrounding herself with the big and exciting city life she’d craved had been a good distraction. Until now.

  The swing door to the kitchen opened and her assistant, Mandy, brushed a strand of dark brown hair from her forehead. “I just made a batch of sugar cookies. People like sugar cookies around the holidays, don’t they?”

  Hailey didn’t have the heart to tell Mandy that she shouldn’t have bothered any more than she could bring herself to let her assistant go. She’d already cut her shifts in half, which fortunately worked out well with Mandy’s rigorous grad school responsibilities, but if things didn’t turn around soon, she wouldn’t have the funds to pay her. As it was, she’d nearly cleared out her savings account.

  “People do like sugar cookies around the holidays,” Hailey agreed. Though whether or not they would bother to buy any from Corner Beanery was another conversation entirely.

  The bell above the door chimed and Hailey smiled with relief at the customer, who was dusting the snow from the shoulders of her coat. The woman’s eyes gleamed as she walked over to the counter, still shivering from the cold.

  “I’ll take one of those chocolate muffins if you have any left,” she said, and Hailey managed to keep a sarcastic comeback to herself. Any left? This would be her first sale of the day.

  “You’re in luck,” she said, as she grabbed a plate from the stack and used tongs to pick up the best looking muffin in the basket. It might be the only one that was eaten today…by someone other than her, that was.

  The woman’s hands were red as she handed over the crisp bills. “It’s mean out there. Wind chill in the single digits, they say.”

  Hailey frowned and glanced out the window, doing her best to avert her eyes from her main competitor, whose windows boasted crowds of people clutching oversized label-stamped mugs. Sure enough, the wind was stronger now, stirring up sweeping gusts from the pavement. She watched in dismay as the wreath came loose again from the door and began rapping stubbornly against the glass.

  “How about a hot chocolate to go with that?” she asked, turning her attention back now to her sole customer. “On the house.”

  The woman smiled as Hailey filled her a to-go cup and snapped the lid. She took a sip, looking up at Hailey in surprise. “I’ve never had anything like that!” She took another sip, more eagerly. “This is delicious. What’s in it?”

  “Secret recipe.” Hailey smiled, pleased.

  “She won’t even tell me,” Mandy cut in with a rueful grin as she grabbed a rag to wipe down the tables, even though they hadn’t been occupied yet today.

  “Well, keep doing what you’re doing,” the woman said, dropping a generous tip in the jar.

  For some reason, the simple statement made Hailey’s eyes prickle, and she managed to shakily murmur her gratitude before the woman—or Mandy—could see how deeply she was affected.

  The wind tore through the café as the woman opened the door again, and Hailey shivered in her thin cashmere sweater. The room was warm, the carols were crooning, and there was a distinct smell of chocolate and cinnamon in the air. But for the life of her, she still couldn’t summon that Christmas spirit.

  Was this karma? Fate’s way of telling her she’d made the wrong choice all those years ago? That she should have married Pete, had a couple babies, been a homemaker instead of trying for something more? Instead she’d chased her dream to Chicago, poured everything into this café, and now she was dangerously close to losing it. And then what would she have left?

  She wasn’t a fool when it came to business. Quite the opposite, in fact. She’d studied hard in school, come up with a plan for herself, and followed it through. And for a while things had been fine.

  She wagered she had about three months to turn things around. Less if she was still paying Mandy. She just needed to think of a way to revive the place. She bit off a corner of a triple chocolate brownie—Pete’s favorite, she now recalled, as she chewed with less enthusiasm—and her mind turned blank.

  Fresh air. She’d take a walk. That always cleared her head. When she first moved to Chicago she loved nothing more than walking for hours, exploring every corner of this city until it became her own.

  She’d followed her dream instead of her heart. Lived it for a while. And the thought of it all being for nothing in the end…was unbearable.

  Before she could wallow any longer, she made a big thermos of hot chocolate and topped it off with fresh marshmallows and whipped cream. Maybe she’d take Pete over some hot chocolate to warm him up. Seeing as it was Christmastime and all.

  ***

  Pete was midway through a speech about the pros and cons of a pine tree versus a spruce when he saw her coming, her cherry red scarf blowing in the wind, her matching hat slightly askew. He turned from his customers—a young family, all too happy to let their five-year-old son make this year’s selection—and cursed under his breath.

  He should have known he couldn’t avoid her. That eventually one of them would break down, get curious, or just start feeling bad about how they’d left things off the other day in the café. Hell, he’d had half a mind to march across the street more than once yesterday, but every time, he’d stopped himself, told himself no good would come from it. That she’d made her choice eight years ago.

  She hovered around the edges of the lot, pretending to feign interest in a ten-foot Douglas fir, until he had finalized the sale and called out to Mike to help the family tie the tree to the roof of their car.

  He pulled in a breath, noticing even from a distance the way the sunlight brought out the highlights in her hair poking out from under her hat, the wa
y her cheeks were flushed with pink the way they used to be when she would laugh, the way her smile was slow as he approached.

  The snow crunched under his boots. Other than that, the only sound he could make out was the pounding of his heart.

  “Looking for a tree?” He smiled. He couldn’t help it. He could never stay mad at Hailey for long. Even when she was driving him crazy. Even when she’d broken his heart.

  Hailey shook her head. “Oh, no. My apartment’s pretty cramped.”

  Pete frowned. “You mean to tell me you don’t plan to put up a Christmas tree?”

  “That’s right,” Hailey said. She skirted her gaze to the left, then turned them boldly on him.

  Peering at her for a second, Pete held up a finger, indicating for her to wait, and then walked purposefully to the end of the row, where they kept their mini-trees. He selected the most symmetric one, recalling how Hailey got caught up in this type of thing, back when they used to select a tree together, and brought it back to where she stood.

  “Problem solved.” He grinned, expecting her to show some delight, but all he got in return was a watery smile.

  She bit her lip. “I actually just came to bring you this.” She stepped forward, thrusting a metal thermos at him.

  He cocked an eyebrow, all conversation of the tree now dropped. “A peace offering?”

  “I saw you standing out here and, well, it’s cold.” She broke his stare and shoved her hands into her pockets.

  Yep. A peace offering then. It was the least she could do. Even if she was about eight years too late.

  “Wait.” Pete tapped the lid. “This isn’t what I think it is, is it?” Before she could reply, he unscrewed the top and lifted the open container to his nose, inhaling the sweet aroma of chocolate and vanilla and a hint of something else—something secret she’d never told him in all the years they were together.