Page 5 of A Perfect Christmas Romance (Kringle, Texas #8)

At five o’clock sharp, Liv shut down her computer, slipped into her coat, turned up the collar, and braced herself for the chilling blast blowing in off the lake.

Let’s be honest, that wasn’t the only thing she was bracing herself for.

C’mon, admit it. You’re not scared of a bit of wind. You’re terrified of what’s waiting outside those doors. Or more specially, who.

She waved goodnight to the receptionist and stepped out into the gathering darkness and into an unexpected flurry of snowflakes.

What a treat.

The streets of her tourist town bustled with shoppers and holiday activities.

Christmas music filled the air, along with the scent of cinnamon and gingerbread from the bakery next door.

Liv paused to indulge her senses, grateful she lived in such a picturesque village.

Kringle had a large artist community, and many of the firm’s clientele lived in the vicinity, which was why the company opened a second branch here.

Nick stepped out of the shadows. He’d been waiting for her to appear, probably practicing his “casual lean” against the building.

Liv clambered down the steps and met him on the pavement where snow started forming.

“Hey,” he said with a lopsided grin that made her pulse tap dance.

“Hey,” she replied, suddenly shy. What was wrong with her? She was a grown woman, for crying out loud, not some blushing Jane Austen heroine.

He wore a shearling coat that made him look like he stepped off a rugged mountain man photoshoot, the hood hanging down in the back.

She resisted an urge to brush silvery snowflakes from his hair, reminding herself that this wasn’t a sappy Christmas movie, and she wasn’t the quirky lead falling for a second chance romance.

“I checked Yelp,” Nick said. “The Kringle Kafe seems to be the hottest spot in town.” He motioned across the town square at the restaurant, where people packed inside for the dinner rush like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic. “Is that okay?”

“They do have good down-home cooking,” Liv said, already imagining the comfort food coma she could slip into to avoid any real conversation.

“Would you like something fancier?” he asked, ever the gentleman. “The Italian restaurant got good reviews, too.”

“While I love the Kringle Kafe, it is noisy in there,” Liv said, her practical side winning out. “Antonelli’s will be much quieter, and I’m in the mood for pasta.”

And fewer witnesses.

“Italian it is.” Nick offered his arm like they were promenading at a regency ball.

She paused and stared down at his hand as if it might transform into a venomous snake. Should she take it? Was this a slippery slope that ended with her heart splattered on the pavement?

“The sidewalk is slippery,” he said, providing a perfectly reasonable excuse that had nothing to do with romance or nostalgia or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

Finally, she slid her arm through his, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity that shot through her. This close to him, she could smell his scent that hadn’t changed since college. An intoxicating mix of sandalwood and coconut made her want to bury her face in his coat and never come out.

They walked the few yards to Antonelli’s, a journey that felt both too long and not long enough.

Nick pushed the door open, ever the gentleman and Liv’s heart did a little somersault of appreciation.

But because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, as they were going in, a couple was coming out. Liv got a glimpse of the man, tall and broad-shouldered with a big square face, a felt derby, and a tan wool overcoat.

It was none other than the owner and chairman of the board of directors, William Lawrence II himself.

Liv was about to say, “Hi,” already formulating a witty, professional greeting that would make her look good in front of highest ranking member of the firm, but then she saw the elder statesman wasn’t with his wife.

Instead, he was in deep conversation with a young, gorgeous blonde.

Brandi Jo.

Uh-oh.

Liv ducked her head faster than a prairie dog spotting a hawk, praying neither Mr. Lawerence nor Brandi Jo noticed her.

Liv grabbed Nick’s elbow and tugged him into the restaurant.

“Whoa.” Nick laughed, and nearly lost his balance. “Where’s the fire?”

“I’m starving,” Liv said, her voice an octave higher than usual. She shot a glance over her shoulder, relieved to see both entrance and exit doors had closed, blocking Mr. Lawerence and Brandi from her sight.

Egad! Was the older man having an affair with the intern?

Maybe there was an innocent explanation for the two of them to be together. Perhaps they were discussing world peace or the intricacies of proper filing systems.

Or maybe Brandi Jo was lobbying for Liv’s job?

No, no, she wouldn’t go there. She preferred to assume the best of people until she had a good reason to form an alternate opinion. It was a policy that had served her well, except for that one time she’d trusted a street vendor who swore those weren’t knockoff designer bags.

And yet, she couldn’t help thinking that with the company’s restructuring, maybe they were trying to force her out. It was like a game of musical chairs where someone kept removing seats when she wasn’t looking.

What did it all mean? Was her job in jeopardy? Was Billy having an affair? And most importantly, why did Nick still smell so damn good after all these years?

One thing was for sure. This evening was shaping up to be anything but the quiet, uneventful one she’d planned, but then again, when had anything involving Nick Matheson ever been simple?

* * *

“Liv?” Nick studied her, confused.

She dragged him into the restaurant with the subtlety of a rhinoceros in a tutu, but once inside, she’d dropped his arm like he was made of molten lava and stood at the hostess stand, staring off into space as if she’d just witnessed the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

The hostess, meanwhile, did her best impression of a statue, menus clutched in hand, silently pleading with her eyes for them to follow.

“Huh?” Rapidly, Liv blinked as if trying to reboot her brain.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked, torn between amusement and concern. Was this the same Liv who used to color-code her study notes and alphabetize her spice rack?

“Oh, yes. Fine.” She shook her head and seemed to come back into her body.

Liv followed the hostess, who carried their menus, to the table, leaving Nick to trail behind. He couldn’t help noticing she still had that sexy little hip wiggle.

Was he crazy for bringing her to this cozy little place? It was pretty romantic and intimate, but then again, Liv picked it.

Why?

She’d made it crystal clear she wasn’t interested in rekindling anything with him, which was fine.

Totally fine.

He wasn’t interested either. Nope. Not at all. But why not just pick the Kringle Kafe with its down-home cooking and built-in crowd noise to fill those awkward silences?

In his mind’s eye, Nick got a blast from the past, vivid as a 4K movie.

He saw the bright red nail polish she’d worn on her toes when she’d slipped off her high heels at her parents’ Christmas Eve party all those years ago.

He’d stolen a kiss underneath the mistletoe when her folks were in the kitchen, and she’d tasted like peppermint and hot chocolate. He smiled, remembering.

Less than half of the round tables with green-and-white-checkered tablecloths had customers. It looked like the set of every Italian restaurant scene ever filmed. The hostess led them to a spot in the far corner.

Nick was about to pull Liv’s chair out for her but thought better of it, but he couldn’t resist helping her off with her coat, though, and for just a second, her familiar lovely scent hit him like a jab to the nose.

“Thank you,” she said with a polite nod, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Nick caught the way her hand froze mid-motion, like she’d only just realized what she was doing. Then she folded her hands neatly in her lap, as if she needed to lock them down to keep from fidgeting.

He grinned, waiting for her to smile back. She didn’t, at least, not right away, but then he saw it. The smallest flicker at the corner of her lips, a ghost of a smile she either didn’t mean to give or wasn’t ready to admit.

For a moment, it felt like old times. The little tells. The way she tried so hard to stay composed, only to let something slip through when she wasn’t on guard. He wanted to say something—anything—to draw out that smile a little longer, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

He hung both their coats on the hooks mounted on the wall beside the table and sat down across from her, feeling like he was on the weirdest first date of his life. Except it wasn’t a date, and they’d known each other for years.

Nick leaned back.

Liv looked over the menu. She pressed her lips together thoughtfully, her finger tracing the paper’s edge.

Their server popped over, introduced himself as Tony, and slid a wooden board with fresh-baked bread and creamy butter onto the table.

“What would you like to drink?” Tony asked, pen poised over his notepad.

Liv looked up. “I’ll have a hot chocolate.”

“Still a hot chocolate fiend, huh?” Nick grinned.

Her eyes flicked up to his, and the tiniest smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Some things never change.”

The server took their food order and departed, but Liv kept watching Nick.

There it was— that smile. For a second, it felt like no time had passed and just like that, a memory crept in, unwanted and sharp.

Chicago. The cold night air. Her standing at the Wabash Bridge, the city lights catching the shine in her eyes. He’d kissed her under those lights, telling her they’d figure out a way to make a long distance relationship work.

A week later, he’d called to tell her he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t manage a long-distance relationship. Couldn’t manage them . He still remembered how her voice cracked over the phone, even though she’d tried so hard to sound fine.