Chapter Three

Eve

Me: Houston, we have a problem.

Ariel: What’s up?

Me: I just met my neighbor.

Images of John standing in the doorway fill my mind. I haven’t seen him in nine long years, despite knowing he’s been home a time or two. Seeing him standing at the back door of Mr. Blackwood’s house—or should I say his former house—was a bit of a shock. Almost as surprising as waking up alone that one morning nine years ago.

Ariel: Oh no. Is he horrible?

I start to tap on my phone, fueled by anger and outrage.

Me: He’s…

Only, I don’t know how to finish that sentence. Of all the people who could have moved into the empty house next door, John Mitchell wasn’t anywhere near the top. Hell, he wasn’t even on the list. Last I knew he was living on the East Coast somewhere with a girlfriend. A girlfriend I’ve secretly hated, but that’s beside the point. He was in the military, doing what he always wanted to do.

A flash of pride wells in my chest. I remember the day he told me he was enlisting. He was so excited, so proud to have the opportunity to serve our country. He ended up as an Army medic, and according to his mom and grandma, served two tours overseas throughout the years.

So, what in the world is he doing back in Colorado now?

Me: It’s John.

It takes a few seconds before the screen lights up with her reply, as if she’s trying to figure out if I’m joking or not.

Ariel: John, John? Like John Mitchell, John?

Me: Yes.

Ariel: Whoa. Didn’t see that coming.

Me neither .

Ariel: How does he look? Did he marry that girl he was dating?

I sigh, picturing him standing in the doorway once more. His Army T-shirt was molded to his body like a second skin, and his jeans were perfection. His hair was a little longer than the last time I saw him, most likely thanks to the fact he’s no longer in the military, and his sturdy jaw was covered in stubble.

My thighs clench at the recollection.

Me: He looked good. And I didn’t see the girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t there. I went over to yell at him.

Ariel: For what?

Me: His cat violated Miss Snowflake.

Ariel: *insert laughing emoji*

Ariel: So let me get this straight. The first time you see the guy in almost a decade and you’re yelling at him because your cats were getting frisky?

Me: Pretty much.

Ariel: Epic.

Me: It’s not funny. Now I have to live next door to my ex, and most likely, his latest girlfriend.

I leave out the part about demanding kitten support. I mean, a girl’s gotta have some dignity in this situation.

Ariel: Yeah, that sucks. I’m sorry. At least it’s the holiday season, and you probably won’t have to see him much.

Me : Let’s hope.

Me : All right, I’m going to grab a bite to eat and head to bed.

Ariel: You’re welcome to come over if you want. I’m kicking off the holidays with my favorite Christmas movie.

Me: Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie.

Ariel: It most certainly is! There is Christmas music, trees, and a holiday party in that movie. Just because there’s also a terrorist and hostage takeover doesn’t mean it’s less Christmassy than Elf.

Me: I’m not arguing with you.

Ariel: Good, because you’d lose.

I snort a laugh and tap on my screen.

Me: Goodnight.

Ariel: Night, Eve!

I walk over to my front window, which is empty as of yet. On Sunday I’ll go find the perfect tree for the space, another tradition I look forward to each year. I walk Whitman’s Tree Farm’s massive acres of greenery until I find the tree that speaks to me. Classic Douglas fir, Scotch pine, White pine, Colorado Blue Spruce, Balsam fir, and my favorite, Fraser fir, all lined up, waiting for someone to take them home and decorate them for the holidays.

Of course, part of the thrill is cutting it down. I’ve cut my own tree the last three seasons with my dad there to supervise. Once it’s down, we get it wrapped up, and then I carry the tree back to my place using a sled. Yes, it’s a hike, but again, it’s part of the tradition I hold near and dear to my heart.

We used to do the same when Joy and I were growing up, pulling the tree back home with a sled. Dad would pull, while my sister, Mom, and I would sing Christmas carols and throw the occasional snowball. It was the best, and even though I don’t have anyone to help me cut down, drag home, and put up my tree, I refuse to let that stop me. Single ladies can have traditions too, right?

I don’t need a man.

But then my mind flashes back across the yard. To the one man I loved more than anything, even though he wasn’t going to be mine to keep.

Now, he’s living next door. Seems kismet is a frigid bitch every now and again.

Oh well. I won’t let his presence dampen my holiday spirit. This is my time. The season to shine like the brightest Christmas light on the tree. To sparkle like tinsel and spread joy.

My newest neighbor isn’t going to ruin my holidays.

“Good morning,” I sing as I step inside the salon the next morning.

“Isn’t it?” Mom asks, a bright smile on her face as she finishes hanging lighted garland around the inside of the front window.

“The windows look beautiful,” I tell her, setting my bag down in the chair in my station.

“I’m so glad we went with greenery this year instead of the red garland we’ve used the last two years,” she announces, stepping back and taking in her masterpiece.

“I agree. It makes what’s on the tree really pop.”

She flashes me another smile. “How was your evening?”

“It was…interesting.”

Her eyebrows draw together in question as she takes a sip of her cinnamon swirl latte.

“I met my new neighbor,” I state, slipping my coat off and hanging it on a hook.

“Oh?” she asks, busying herself by grabbing the broom and starting to sweep up any pine needles on the floor.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I watch her. “Did you know?”

She refuses to look at me, which is pretty telling. “Know what?”

I sigh and shake my head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, not really upset at her for omitting the fact my ex-boyfriend from high school was buying the house beside me.

“I was going to, promise. I didn’t realize he was moving in so soon. I heard he purchased the house, but thought I’d have a few more days to share the news.”

“Well, he’s already there. Moving truck was parked in the driveway.”

She smiles fondly. “John Mitchell was always a fly by the seat of his pants kinda guy, wasn’t he? Of course he’d move in moments after signing the deed to his new home.”

More memories flock to the forefront of my mind. John and I tended to be more opposites than we were alike. I was a thinker, took the time to come up with a plan, while he was fast to make decisions and rarely thought of the consequences.

I don’t reply, because really, what is there to say? Not only did my family know John well, thanks to the year we dated in high school, but my mom and his have been friends most of their lives. I’ve known they’ve remained in contact over the years, but never have I asked my mom for any updates on him. Well, besides the one I needed after he initially left after graduation. I had to know he made it to his base and was doing all right during basic training. Otherwise, I’ve refrained from asking any more information about him. It was easier to cut that cord and keep it severed than to wallow in the sadness and loneliness I felt after he left.

The fact that I heard about his relationship with his girlfriend happened by accident. It was about three years ago. Mom was cutting his mom, Patti’s hair one day and they were talking. She didn’t know I was in the back room stocking the shipment of supplies that had just arrived. I walked out just when she told my mom about his girlfriend moving in with him and how happy he seemed. It was like a knife to the chest. Even though I was dating Andrew at the time, it still hurt to hear. He was my first…everything, and in that moment, I realized your first love never really goes away.

“I think I’m going to head next door to grab a coffee. Want something?” I ask, moving toward the door.

“No, thank you, I was just there. Oh, she made that apple swirl coffeecake you love so much,” Mom says, referring to one of my sister’s many delicious specialties.

“That sounds good. I’ll be right back,” I tell her, slipping out of the front door without grabbing my coat.

The air is chilly, but the sun feels warm as I make my way to my sister’s bakery next door. As soon as I step inside, I’m assaulted by mouthwatering baked goods. Cinnamon, sugar, and the smell of apple fills the air, with a hint of freshly brewed coffee mixed in.

When Joy sees me, she offers a wide smile. “Hi,” she greets, instantly pointing to the apple swirl coffeecake in the display case. “I thought of you while I was baking it.”

“Mom told me you had it today. I’ll take a slice, and a large gingerbread latte with mocha, please.”

“Coming right up,” she informs me, turning her attention to the baked goods while Jan, her assistant, starts my coffee. “How’s everything going?”

“Good. I have a full schedule today,” I reply, mentally running through the clients on today’s calendar.

“That’s good. I need to schedule an appointment,” she says as she scoops a slice of coffeecake out of the pan. “To go?”

“Yes, please.” I glance at my watch, noting I have a few minutes before my first client of the day arrives. “I’ll check my calendar and text you.”

She nods, slipping my breakfast into a Styrofoam container and placing it on the counter in front of me. While she starts to ring up my purchases—something we no longer fight about, since I insist on paying like any other customer—Jan places a white paper cup with the bakery’s logo on the counter. Before she can say anything, I reach for the cup, desperate for the taste of warm gingerbread and espresso. What hits my tongue is nothing like I was expecting. It’s bitter, scorching hot, and gross. I barely get it down.

“Oh my goodness.” I gasp, staring at the offensive cup and sticking out my tongue. “This isn’t mine.”

“It’s mine.”

A large, warm body moves in beside me, brushing against me as he reaches for the cup. I glance over, my eyes wide with shock, as John takes the coffee from my hand. Our gazes are locked as he slowly brings the cup to his lips and drinks. My eyes are glued to the spot my lips just touched. The very place John’s full, kissable lips now rest. “Mmm,” he mumbles, the hint of a smile crossing his mouth as he lowers the cup.

“Sorry, John. I can get you a new one,” Jan insists, guilt filling her eyes.

“It’s not a problem,” he states, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through me. He turns his attention back to me and adds, “It’s Eve. I don’t mind.”

“Can I get you anything else?” my sister says.

Breaking eye contact, I return my attention to her. When I’m about to answer her question, I realize she’s not talking to me. Her eyes are on John as she gives me a pleasant smile.

“No, thank you, Joy. I’m good. Thanks for the coffee,” he says, lifting the cup to his lips once more and taking a sip. “I’ll have to try some of that apple swirl coffeecake next time.”

She flashes a smile. “I usually sell out pretty quickly, so make sure you stop by early.”

He nods. “Will do. Have a great day, ladies.” With a wink and a knowing grin, he walks away, leaving me standing at the counter a little breathless.

After a beat, my sister says, “Since there was no formal greeting, I take it you knew he was back in town?”

I relax a bit, not realizing how tense I was from our exchange. “He’s my neighbor. I ran into him last night.”

“Your what?” my sister bellows, grabbing the attention of every other patron in the bakery. “Sorry, but your what?” she whispers softly.

“Neighbor. He bought Blackwood’s house,” I tell her as Jan places a second cup on the counter.

“This one’s yours, Eve. Sorry about earlier,” Jan says, flashing me an apologetic grin.

“It’s no problem,” I reply, taking a small sip of sweet coffee. Once the mixture of cinnamon, gingerbread, and mocha hit my tongue, my taste buds jump for joy. “So much better than that nasty stuff he was drinking.”

Joy snorts. “Black coffee is an acquired taste.”

“Anyway, I need to get back to the salon. Thanks for this,” I reply, holding up my coffee and to-go container of breakfast.

“You’re welcome. See you Saturday night?” my sister asks, referring to the pageant in the town square.

“I’ll be there.” With a final wave, I leave the bakery to head back to work. Unfortunately, luck isn’t on my side this morning, and the moment I step out onto the sidewalk, I come face-to-face with Andrew.

“Well, good morning, Eve.” He glances down at my sugary coffee drink and the white container in my hand. “Always were a fan of sweets.”

I stare back at his smug, conceited expression without replying.

He slips a pair of expensive sunglasses on his face. “Just dropped off Roxie at the salon.” When I don’t respond, he continues, “Kind of funny I ended up dating someone who works with you, huh?”

Again, I don’t say a word.

“Roxie’s great, isn’t she? Smart, funny, has a great work ethic.”

Not to mention young and vulnerable, but who am I to judge?

“She’s great,” I mutter, taking a step to pass him. “Gotta get inside.”

He shifts to his right, blocking my path.

Sighing dramatically, I level him with a look of annoyance. “Do you have something else to say?”

“Why the hostility?” he asks, his voice full of unwarranted innocence.

If I didn’t have my hands full, I’d cross my arms at my chest, but since I can’t, I just glare. “Uhh, I don’t know, Andrew. Maybe because the last time I really talked to you, I was tossing your underwear out onto my front lawn. Or maybe it’s the fact you had the balls to come back to my house and blame your affair on me. ”

“That’s water under the bridge—” he starts, but I instantly cut him off.

“No. No, it’s not, Andrew. I may not care who you date or sleep with now, but that’s only because my love for you died right there on my front porch when your administrative assistant stopped by to share the gory details of what the two of you just did at the office.”

He winces.

“I don’t care that you’re dating Roxie. I wouldn’t care if you were still screwing your very married former assistant. But that doesn’t mean we’re friends now, okay? If you want to know why I’m so hostile, take a look in the mirror. You shouldn’t need help finding one. You’ve always carried one in your pocket in case a single strand of hair falls out of place.”

I storm past him, straight into the salon, where I fall against the back of the door with a smile. “Stupid jerk,” I mutter, the familiar sights and sounds of the salon hitting me.

“Everything all right?”

I open my eyes and meet Roxie’s concerned ones. A big part of me wants to warn her away from Andrew, or better yet, tell her she’s too good for a cheater who takes no responsibility for his actions like him. But that’s not my place. Roxie was our employee before she started dating Andrew, and she swears she didn’t know about our former relationship—or the ring I used to wear on my finger—before she started dating him. She’s a little flaky, a lot na?ve, and way too innocent for someone like Andrew, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she really didn’t know about our failed relationship. She’s not from Snowflake Falls, per se. She lived in Edgemere, a slightly larger town seven miles from here, and while my ex was busy boinking his family’s funeral home’s administrative assistant, she was off at cosmetology school. The fact she works at the same salon as me could very well be a complete coincidence. Or not. Either way, I don’t care.

I’m over it.

Over him.

As I walk to my station, sipping my favorite holiday latte, another thought hits me.

I ran into John at the bakery and Andrew outside. I’ve only ever dated two men long term, and I happened upon both within a five-minute time span.

Man, do I have the worst luck ever or what?