Page 18

THIRTEEN

AMOS

When the calendar flipped over to December yesterday, a cold rush swept into the area, bringing with it a frosty morning and the kind of chill that created cloud puffs when exhaling. I shoved my fists into my jacket pockets as I walked to The Striped Maple from Sparky’s.

As I passed by businesses along Maple Street, the Christmas season was visible everywhere.

The Scoops on Maple window had a cute hand-painted scene of two reindeer enjoying ice cream sundaes with red and green candy on top.

Bees in Santa hats hung from the Honey Spot window, and Special Blend smelled of peppermint mocha as I passed.

The Striped Maple’s front door, decked out with a large wreath, swung open, and a giggling couple exited.

I caught the door before it closed and stepped inside to warmth that chased the chill from my skin.

I hummed along to the Christmas music playing as I moved deeper into the pub to search for Mickey.

I found him at a tall table with someone I hadn’t met before. It must be Adrian, the pub owner we were scheduled to meet with. Adrian’s back was to me, and they were laughing at something and hadn’t noticed me. Patrons sat at several other tables, but it wasn’t busy.

When Mickey spotted me over Adrian’s shoulder, his smile grew. I waved and strode over.

“Whatever happened with that guy with the wardrobe malfunction on Halloween? Rory told us all about it.”

Mickey cleared his throat and darted a glance at me. “The duct tape in your office came in handy. Amos, hey.”

Adrian stood and turned toward me. He was a couple of inches taller than I was, with a lean build and short black hair. He wore a cozy-looking tan sweater that complemented his brown skin.

“Adrian? I’m Amos Flynn. It’s great to meet you.” I shook his hand. “Hey, Mickey.”

“Hi.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled with his big smile.

Adrian glanced between us with his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Great to meet you too. It’s great to put a face with the name.

I’ve gotten to know Sage, and glad to have the chance to finally meet you.

” He gestured to the table that had a water pitcher and three glasses.

“Can I get you something else to drink?”

“Water’s great, thanks.” I took a long drink. I’d worked the breakfast shift and hadn’t done a good job hydrating.

“I appreciate you agreeing to talk with us about a special event for the Holiday Hoopla,” I said after setting the glass down.

“We love to get involved with the town’s festivals. Mickey said something about a community dinner? I think I read about it on Maplewood Matters .”

Mickey explained the festival event and its nod to Red and Sparky.

“That’s a fun way to make the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Holiday Hoopla extra special. How can we help?”

“Bo got grant funding to pay for food so we can treat the community to dinner,” I said.

“We’re trying to find partners with large kitchens and staff so we can divvy up who’s going to cook large volumes of each dish. It’s too much for one or two kitchens to handle, but if we all come together, we can pull it off,” Mickey added.

My attention wandered to him and the brick-red sweater he wore. He made it all sound so reasonable. With his special brand of earnestness, Mickey could get me to agree to anything.

When I pulled my attention back and looked at Adrian, a smile played on his lips before he took a drink of water. Busted drooling over the enemy.

I pulled up the menu we’d prepared and set my phone on the table in front of Adrian. “This is the menu, and the items in black are ones we’re still trying to find cooks for. We’re hoping The Striped Maple would be able to take on one or two of them.”

Adrian nodded while studying the menu. “Focusing on one dish would make it easy to manage around our normal kitchen service. I’ll confirm with Rory, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Do you have an idea of volume? Will there be any food delivery involved for people who can’t make it out?”

Mickey and I looked at each other, and I could tell we were both going down the same train of thought. We hadn’t talked about providing food to people who couldn’t make it out because of transportation, illness, or accessibility.

“We’ll check with Bo and get back to you, but delivery is a great idea. Bo is also working up some estimates for attendance, so we’ll get that to you soon,” I said.

Mickey leaned in. “This hasn’t been announced yet, but Bo gave us the green light to tell people who might sign up to cook for the event.

Good Morning, USA is planning to come to the Christmas festival.

Business owners who contribute to the festival will receive priority consideration for whatever the show’s crew plans for B-roll or visiting local businesses.

We want to get as much exposure for the town as possible. ”

Adrian’s eyes widened. “ Good Morning, USA? Seriously? That’s incredible. I would’ve said yes without that, but that’s quite the bonus. Any idea what Christmas events they plan to go to?”

Mickey and I had been speculating about that as well. Taking the carriage across the covered bridge would make for great footage, but so would caroling through the historic downtown Maplewood and Maplewood City Park.

“All we know is that they plan to come to town with one of their correspondents, and the spot they film will air on Christmas morning. So all we’re able to rule out is the New Year’s Eve event.” Mickey smiled.

Adrian whistled. “That’s quite a spotlight on our little hamlet.” He passed my phone back. “Let us know next steps, and we’re happy to help.” He leaned back. “It’s interesting seeing the two of you work together. Aren’t you supposed to be sworn enemies?” He winked.

“Can’t stand the guy. Every minute we work on this project is pure torture,” I said, deadpan.

Mickey’s laughter made me swoon, and going by Adrian’s knowing smile, I wasn’t doing a good job of keeping things professional.

I needed to get a better handle on my feelings before we visited more businesses in town.

How was I supposed to help it? Working with Mickey was fun and easy, and the more time I got to spend with him, the more I craved.

Adrian looked between us. “Hey, before you guys go, have a round on me. It’s the least I can do for all the work you’re doing for the community.”

“Sounds good to me. You have time, Mickey?”

“Absolutely.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a sweet smile.

Adrian led us over to the bar and poured the two local beers we requested. After Adrian left, wishing us a good afternoon, we turned to scan the room.

“There’s a couch in front of the fireplace. Want to sit there?” Mickey gestured in that direction.

I literally couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do more in that moment than sit next to Mickey in front of a warm fireplace on a cool December afternoon.

I took one end while Mickey sat closer to the middle.

He set his drink on the table and reached his arm across the back of the couch toward me.

It took all my self-restraint not to lean in and rest my head on his arm.

Being back in The Striped Maple, where it all began, was messing with my compartmentalization.

I’d given myself a pep talk last night that I needed to keep things professional during our meeting today, but that all went out the window when Mickey smiled at me.

I was having visceral memories from Halloween—the feel of Mickey’s body against mine, the press of his lips, the hum as he kissed me deeply, the shape of him in his jeans.

“How’d it go when you told your family about Good Morning, USA, yesterday?” Mickey seemed oblivious to my inner turmoil.

It took my brain a moment to make such a drastic pivot.

“I pulled Mom and Dad aside while Mom was cooking and Dad had come back to pick up an order for table service. Mom screamed and Dad knocked over a cooling pie when he pulled me in for a hug. The ruckus made the three Rocktogenarians who’d stopped in for an early dinner rush to the back to check on us, and I had to come up with a lie on the spot. ”

Mickey’s eyes were full of laughter. “What gem did your brain provide?”

I groaned and covered my face. “That there had been a new Mabel sighting.”

Mickey shook the couch with his heavy laughter. “Your fight, flight, or freeze response involved our local cryptid?”

All I could do was shrug. “Sage and I had gotten into a Mabel debate on Sunday night, so she was top of mind, I guess.”

I’d always had a soft spot for our local forest-dwelling mystical creature.

Not everyone in town believed in her, but I did.

When I was a kid, the idea of a super-tall and leafy creature living in the forests around town scared the hell out of me.

But when I heard a story that she guided a lost hiker back to town, I stopped being afraid.

“Did it work?”

“Yeah. Within ten minutes, everyone in the diner was talking about it.” I hooked my teeth over my bottom lip and smiled sheepishly.

“Probably already on Maplewood Matters .”

I grinned. “I hadn’t checked, but you’re probably right. Have you ever seen Mabel?”

Mickey shook his head. “No, but a couple of my friends have sworn they’ve seen her. You?”

“Sage and I went camping by ourselves when I turned sixteen, and I saw her. I’m sure of it. Sage said it was a trick of the light in the trees, but Sage doesn’t believe in Bigfoot or Nessie. Blasphemy.”

His exaggerated gasp made me laugh. “There’s always one in every family.”

I chuckled. “How’d it go telling your family?” I sipped on my beer. It was a rich holiday ale with hints of ginger that warmed my throat.

“If there had been a pie around, I’m sure it would’ve ended up on the floor too. He’d damn near told several people by the end of the day. Ingrid and I had to keep interrupting him while he chatted with folks at the counter. The man can’t keep a secret.” Mickey shook his head and smiled fondly.

I couldn’t blame Joe. If I spent all day cooking behind the counter and chatting with customers, I’d want to talk about it too. Hell, I was having a hard time keeping it to myself while working at Sparky’s.

A server passed with a tray of food, which made my stomach rumble. “You know what would be delicious with this?” I lifted my drink. “That cheese. I’ve been dreaming about it. I’m still waiting for that special cheese hookup to come through.”

Mickey studied me with a seriousness that made me want to squirm. “How are you with secrets?”

“Bo told me a secret in second grade that I still haven’t told anyone. And, no, you won’t get it out of me. Not even with tickling.”

When Mickey waggled his fingers dangerously close to my sides, I twisted away, laughing. There was a playful side to him I hadn’t expected but seriously adored.

“I’m sure eight-year-old Bowie’s secrets were intense.” The smile slipped from his face as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “The cheese is mine. It’s a hobby, I guess. Making artisan cheese.”

It took me a moment to process his words. “You’ve got to be shitting me. You’re my cheese hookup? All I need to do is knock on your door for a steady supply of dairy heaven?” I closed my eyes and moaned. “I’ve never been more aroused.”

Mickey’s cheeks tinged pink. “You’re seriously being honest about how much you like it? My friends have been saying it for years, but…”

I tilted my head at the vulnerability in his voice. How could he not know how talented he was?

“Let’s put it this way. It’s so good that I am fully ready and willing to cross enemy lines, put on a Team Red’s shirt, and march my ass through the front door of your diner and order whatever burger it’s on. Do you make a bleu cheese? I’d sell my soul for a bacon bleu cheeseburger with that.”

Instead of the laughter I expected, a pained expression crossed his face. “While I appreciate the sentiment, it’s not on the menu.”

“How is it— Oh.” A few pieces fell into place. Reading between the lines of how Mickey talked about his dad and the diner, comments from people in town over the years about how resistant Joe was to change. I’d heard nothing had changed on Red’s menu in a decade, except for the prices.

That was all my brain needed to kick into brainstorming mode.

Mickey had a problem, and I excelled at fixing things.

I’d always been more of a big-picture person than a doer.

“Could you make a bunch to have at the Christmas Eve dinner? You could be one of the partners, and it could help make a huge splash in town. I’m sure people would be knocking down your door to order some.

Maybe the market in town would carry it?

Ooh! They could do wine and cheese pairing menus with local wines. What about?—”

Mickey covered my hand with his, and I quieted at his soft touch.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I’m not quite there yet. The Christmas Eve idea is a great one, but I don’t have the stock. I’m only doing small batches right now.”

“If I ran my own restaurant, I’d build a menu around your cheese.” I really would.