Page 19 of Theirs for the Holidays

Sawyer smirks, hands tucked into his pockets. “What do you think we’d do if we were all really dating you?”

Right. I nod. “We’d ride together.”

“Exactly.”

It feels so, so strange to have them piling into my car. For one thing, they make it seem even more cramped than it already is. It’s the perfect size for me, my little blue sedan, but Sawyer makes a show of shoving the passenger seat back to make room for his long legs, leaving Rhett complaining from his spot in the backseat.

Lennox doesn’t say anything, just looks out the window as I start the car and back us down the driveway.

My neighborhood is quiet at this time of day, everyone already occupied with the things they need to do, and I drive us out of the subdivision and into the main part of town.

Luckily, most of the places I need to go to are close enough together that we can park the car and just walk, so I do that, sliding into a space and killing the engine.

“This is going to be a little boring,” I say, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Sorry.”

Rhett shrugs. “I don’t think anyone’s errands are a party.”

“Fair enough.”

The first stop is the little spice shop where I buy some of the more specialized ingredients for my bakery. The bigger things like sugar and flour and yeast I get delivered in large quantities, but things like herbs and spices I like to try to source as locally as I can.

Jasmine, the daughter of the woman who runs the shop, smiles at me as I come in and then her eyes widen when she sees the men.

“Violet, are they with you?” she asks, her voice hushed.

“Oh. Uh, yeah, these are my…” I trail off, wincing a little. If I can’t even say it out loud, how am I ever going to sell this?

Sawyer swoops in, smile in place. “We’re her boyfriends,” he says. “She’s still shy about it, but that’s one of the cutest things about her.”

Jasmine’s eyes are the size of dinner plates already, and I just know that a good amount of that small town gossip we were talking about earlier is going to come from her.

I clear my throat before things can get more awkward for me. “Um, I asked your mom about some orange blossom water?”

“Oh, right,” she says. “She set aside some things for you, come and look.”

Ten minutes later, I leave with the things I came for—along with a few others—and we stop back at the car to drop them off.

It goes like that in the next shop and the one after that too. Unlike Jasmine and her mother, the owners of the next two stops have been in Sweetwater Lake for long enough to know all about the Sullivan brothers.

I can practically feel the rumor mill starting to churn as I make my purchases and Rhett scoops up the bags before I can.

“You know you’re working on your day off, right?” he says, raising an eyebrow at me.

I smile a little sheepishly. “I know. But when you’re the single owner of a small business that’s barely making even on a good day, there aren’t really days off. Come on, we’re going in here.”

We spend another half hour or so picking out cheeses for Danishes and little pastries for holiday appetizers, and I grab some nuts and fruits as well. I have some ideas for new treats I want to add to the menu for the holidays, and I’m already itching to experiment by the time I’m done picking things out.

“What do you think about stopping for lunch?” Sawyer suggests, closing the trunk of my car with a decisive bang. “I’m starving.”

I check the time, surprised that it’s already after noon. “We can do that. I have been dragging you all over the town today.”

“Is Porter’s still a thing?” Rhett asks.

“Of course. You know Mr. Porter is going to die before he lets his diner go out of business.”

Porter’s is one of those places in our small town that’s been there since everyone was a kid. Mr. Porter runs it, and his father ran it before him. He always says the business will die with him, since both of his sons moved away after college, and one of them became a doctor and the other an accountant, but most of the people in Sweetwater Lake think his daughter Rosalie will take over before that happens. There are actual bets about it.

That’s small town life for you.