'Twas the Week Before Christmas. Olivia Miles
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after checking the meter and realizing that he had used very little of the time he had paid for, he strolled down the sidewalk in search of some basic necessities.
A jungle of bells chimed when he pushed through the doors to a sporting goods store. He selected some thick wool socks, a scarf, hat and a pair of heavy-duty boots. If today’s meeting was any indication of things to come, he wouldn’t be leaving Maple Woods anytime soon, and he might as well make himself comfortable for the duration of his stay. He’d assumed he could come into town, meet with the mayor and spend the rest of the day getting a feel for the town before heading out the next morning. Unforeseen complications were never welcome when it came to business. Throw Holly into the mix, and Max had the unsettling sensation that personal complications were equally threatening.
From a neatly folded pile on a display table, he selected three thick sweaters and a pair of corduroy pants and, after a brief hesitation and the memory of that cold, icy wind slicing through his overcoat, he grabbed a down parka from a nearby rack.
“Do you know where I can get a cup of coffee around here?” he asked the clerk as he handed over his credit card.
The kid arched an eyebrow and studied him. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Max shrugged. “Know a good place?”
“There’s not much to do in Maple Woods,” the kid elaborated, and Max detected a hint of resentment in his tone. Teenagers. “You’ve got your bar. You’ve got your pizza parlor. And you’ve got your diner.”
“Just a cup of a coffee will do,” Max said patiently.
“Try Lucy’s Place.”
Max felt a wave of exasperation take hold. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know Lucy.”
“Lucy’s Place. It’s the name of the diner.” The kid shook his head and hissed out of a breath. “You really aren’t from around here.”
Max inhaled sharply, but something inside him resonated with this surly kid. He was once like that. Small-town boy with big-city dreams. Desperate to break free and never look back. “Where can I find this Lucy’s Place?”
The kid tilted his chin toward the window. “Just across the street.”
“Thanks.” Max reached for his bag and tucked his wallet back into his pocket.
“Tell Lucy that Bobby Miller sent you,” the kid said, managing a tight smile. “She’ll take care of you.”
Max squinted as sudden realization took hold. Miller. As in George Miller? After a slight hesitation, he nodded his thanks and jogged across the street to the diner as a blast of wind slapped his face, wishing he’d had the sense to have already put on that parka.
* * *
Holly’s heart flipped at the sight of Max walking into the diner and she paused mid-sentence in surprise. His broad shoulders filled that ridiculous overcoat perfectly, leaving her wishing she could see the fine details of what lay beneath. He stood in the doorway, all at once looking devilishly handsome and slightly bewildered.
Watching her reaction, Lucy Miller whispered over the Formica counter, “Who’s that?”
Holly slid her eyes back to her friend. “He’s a guest at the inn.”
Lucy lifted her head and murmured, “Looks like you’ve made quite an impression on him.”
Holly followed Lucy’s gaze back to the front of the room, where Max caught her stare and lit up with an almost relieved smile. He held his hand up and began winding his way through the crowded tables to where Holly was perched at the counter, his athletic frame allowing him to do so with ease.
“Hey,” he said, flopping companionably onto the stool beside her.
“Hi,” Holly said cautiously, feeling a shiver of excitement at his proximity. “This is a surprise.”
“Thought I’d get a quick cup of coffee and check out the town before I went back to the inn.”
Lucy took her cue and pulled a ceramic mug off a shelf. She slid it toward Max and gave Holly a fleeting look. Holly pursed her lips and shifted her focus back to Max. “When is your, um, business meeting?”
“Already happened,” Max said simply and Holly’s heart turned heavy. The meeting was over. His purpose in Maple Woods was finished. He’d be leaving just as quickly as he’d arrived.
He was only booked for two nights but somehow Holly had hoped something would keep him longer. It was a silly thought, she realized now. He had a life to get back to in New York. A life that didn’t include her.
She forced a bright smile. “Did it go well?”
Max pulled a noncommittal face. He shrugged. “We’ll see.”
Holly narrowed her eyes and looked down to her own coffee cup, not sure what to say next. Max liked his privacy, and she wasn’t one to pry. If he wanted to share his reasons for being here, he would. But his evasiveness was unnerving and unfamiliar. Maple Woods wasn’t a town based on secrets. If you had one, it was bound to come out sooner than later.
Max was a fresh reminder of what her life had been like back in Boston, and she suddenly realized how much she had changed since she’d moved away. And how little she missed her old life. After her parents died, the city had felt vast and empty. Cold. It wasn’t until she moved permanently to Maple Woods that she remembered what it felt like to be surrounded by friends and people who genuinely cared enough to let you in, not keep you at arm’s reach.
“I thought you’d be busy at the inn all day,” Max observed.
“Believe it or not, I do get out,” Holly said with a grin. “Abby helps hold down the fort.”
“And Abby is?”
“Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t have met her yet. She helps run things. Sort of a manager or housekeeper, if you will. But she’s also a friend.”
Max nodded, his blue gaze locked intensely with hers as if hanging onto her every word. It had been a long time since a man had paid this much attention to her, and Holly felt her nerves flutter under his gaze. Every time their eyes met, her stomach did involuntary somersaults.
The last man who had looked at her with this much interest was Brendan, her last boyfriend in Boston. And look how that had ended, she thought bitterly. But something told her Max was different.
Not that it matters, she thought sadly.
“Here are your pies, hon.” Lucy placed a stack of white pie boxes in front of Holly.
Holly lifted the lid of the box on top and stole a peek at the contents. “Oh,” she cried. “Apple-cranberry. My favorite.”
“That’s for the guests,” Lucy remarked with a playful smile. She glanced at Max. “You like pie?”
Max shrugged. “I liked the pie I had last night.”
“That was Lucy’s creation,” Holly explained. “She bakes all the pies for the inn. I drop by every morning to pick them up.”
“This one keeps me in business,” Lucy said.
“I find that hard to believe,” Max said, an edge creeping into his once-pleasant tone. He looked around the crowded room. “This place seems to be doing pretty well on its own.”
“Eh. At times. But you’d be amazed how many regulars come in, spend a buck-fifty on a cup of coffee and sip refills for two hours. Like Mr. Hawkins over there.” She gave a pointed stare to the end of the counter where an older man sat sipping at his mug, the newspaper splayed in front of him. The poor man had been a fixture at the diner ever since his wife had died more than ten years ago. Holly couldn’t remember a day she hadn’t come in to collect her pies and had not seen him sitting in that very seat. He clearly couldn’t bear the thought of being alone.
Makes