“You what?” She arches a dark eyebrow.
“I want to start over, if that’s possible.” I hold out the figurative olive branch, pun intended. “I don’t want you to hate me or my shop.”
“Why?” Her incredulous breath plumes in front of her face. “Why do you care about whether or not I like you? What does it even matter?”
I have an embarrassingly huge crush on you, probably won’t go over well. Instead, I say, “Because I want us to be good neighbors. We both have businesses to run. There’s no need for acrimony between us. Okay?”
She chews on her bottom lip as she considers me. After another beat of silence, she shrugs. “Fine. I can be civil, but don’t expect me to be popping into your shop or doing you any favors.”
“Of course not.” I begin walking again, and she joins me at my elbow. “Though if you want a favor from me, all you have to do is ask.”
She frowns.
Shit. “What?”
“Every time you’re nice to me, I feel like you’re trying to trick me.” She shoots me a glance from the corner of her eye.
I know she doesn’t like me, but this is a whole other level. “What makes you think I’m out to get you?”
“I don’t know.” She clasps her hands in front of her, her fingers trying to strangle each other. “Just, in school, you never looked twice at me. And now …”
“I looked at you plenty.” I meet her startled gaze. “Trust me.”
Olive
There is simply no way in the world to hide the surprise that waltzes across my face at his words.
“Wh-what do you mean?” Maybe I misheard him?
“I mean that every time I was running track and you were sitting in the stands, I’d check you out.”
“Not possible.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “I would have seen it.”
“I’m a lot smoother than you give me credit for.” He smiles, and heat rises inside me, warming my heart.
“What makes you think you would have seen me looking?” He elbows me lightly. “Were you watching me?”
“No, of course not.”
“Sure.” He grins.
“What did you do after high school?” I know the answer, but I need to get him off the subject of me stalking him every day of our senior year.
“College, got a business degree. Then I traveled and worked my way through Europe doing odd jobs or working on farms. My parents thought I was insane and demanded I come home and work on their farm.” He glanced at me. “But I couldn’t see myself there. They built a great life, and I love them more than anything, but farming for a lifetime isn’t for me.”
“And candy is?”
His lips quirk up. “Candy is the ultimate freedom. Just total enjoyment—even if it’s only for a moment—of something delicious.”
I let myself go, let my guard down for a second, and return his smile. “So you’re the Willy Wonka of Hollyton?”
“Depends on whether you mean the Gene Wilder one or the creepy Johnny Depp one.”
I give him the side eye. “What sort of gal do you think I am? Gene Wilder, all the way, obviously.”
He laughs, and the sound puts me more at ease than I’ve been all day. Somehow, he is more calming for me than hours of Bikram Yoga.
We turn right, and I can see my front porch light burning through the dark as snow begins to swirl around us.
“You should get back.” I say the words, but I don’t offer to take the boxes from him. “We’re supposed to get a heavier band of snow before it clears up.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t melt.”
We walk the rest of the way in silence, our shoes crunching along the slushy sidewalk until we reach the path to my front door.
“This is me.” I turn to him and stare up into his eyes before glancing away. Something about the way he looks at me warms areas of my body that are best left cold. At least I think they’re best left cold. Every sniff I get of his clean scent mixed with the sweetness from his shop only intensifies the heat inside, and I fear I’m beginning to fall under the same spell he worked on me in high school. I can’t let it happen.
“I’ll take those now.” I hold my hands out.
“At least unlock your door first. You can’t very well get your key out with your hands full.”
He has a point. I scan the neighborhood and see Candace’s front window curtain twitch. Great.
“Fine.” I hold a finger up. “But you can’t come in.”
“Understood.” He follows me up the walk.
As I slide the key into the lock and turn the deadbolt he says, “This is a nice house.”