Chapter 1

Krysten

“ M ore coffee?”

I nod, and Claire fills my cup again. “Thanks. I’ll get out of your way after this.”

The coffee shop is getting busy during the afternoon rush, and my laptop battery is at five percent. Not that my search has been fruitful so far, but what choice do I have? I need a job, and I need a new place to stay. Quickly.

“You sit, and you stay as long as you like, hon. There’s a plug for that computer over there.” Claire squeezes my shoulder and points to a plug on the wall.

“I appreciate that.” I climb under the table and manage to plug in the charging cable.

“Mind if I take this seat?” a deep voice says.

I raise and bump my head before emerging, face burning. It practically bursts into flames when I realize who the voice belongs to. Tom Howard, the handsome owner of the stunning Victorian next to mine, is standing above me, coffee in hand, his soft brown hair almost falling into his eyes, t-shirt straining across his broad shoulders.

“Sure. Sit down.” I scramble up and climb back into my seat. By some miracle, my cup survived the impact of my head with the bottom of the table. Only a few splatters of coffee grace the wooden top. I wipe them up with a napkin and shut my laptop.

“If you’re busy ...” Tom looks around, and I follow his gaze. The place is packed.

“I’m not. Please, sit.” I pick up my coffee and wrap my hands around the ceramic mug.

“If you’re sure ... I appreciate it.” Tom sits and takes a sip of what smells like a chai tea latte and sighs.

“Long day?” I ask.

He nods. “You?”

“Don’t even ask.” I avoid looking at the laptop that’s let me down in my search.

“What’s wrong?” Tom puts his cup down and looks at me. We don’t know each other well but have spoken a few times here and there as the occasion arose.

“I’m moving. Not of my own accord, and I’m not sure where.”

“I thought you and Lilly liked that place.” His head is cocked to the side like he’s actually interested in my abysmal news.

“I do. Lilly, not so much. Her boyfriend broke up with her, and she can’t wait to get out of here. Since the lease is in her name ...”

“You can’t take it over?” Tom asks.

“I wish. I can’t afford the place by myself. Especially not now.” I’m sharing too much and promise myself to keep my mouth shut about my problems from here on out.

“Right. Christmas presents and stuff.” He nods, undoubtedly picturing I have this huge list of people I need to buy for.

I burst out laughing at the absurdity of it. “No, far from it. I lost my job, and it’s impossible to find something new that’s more than a temp thing through the holidays.” Which was the root of my problem.

Tom stared at me, looking like I’d switched to speaking in a language he couldn’t quite make out.

“I need to find a new place to live. Something smaller than my current place. Landlords like to see a steady paycheck and references. I don’t have either. And it’s hard to land an interview when you’re not sure what address to put on the application.”

“I see. Didn’t you work for some acting school or something?” Tom asks.

“I did. It’s going out of business.” Carl broke the news to me this morning.

“And they aren’t willing to give you a good reference?” Tom asks. “You’ve worked there a while, haven’t you?”

“Two years, and it’s complicated.” If by complicated, you mean throwing a temper tantrum worthy of a two-year-old and calling your boss names that would have your mama running for a bar of soap to wash your mouth.

“Gotcha.” Tom looks at his phone when it pings. I scan his face while he’s busy reading whatever is causing that worry line on his forehead to form.

The man is pale with dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he’s been burning the candle at both ends. “This isn’t good,” he mutters under his breath.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s nothing.” He takes another sip of his tea and puts the phone down.

“You can tell me. I dumped all my problems on you,” I say, picking up my own coffee. It’s cooling down quickly, and I drink it up greedily. With the way things are going, it may be my last caffeine fix for a while.

“Why don’t you go stay with your folks for the holidays? I’m sure something will open up the first of the year,” he says, ignoring my suggestion.

I almost spit out my coffee. “Right.”

“Not an option?” he asks, looking concerned.

“Not really. There isn’t anyone I could stay with ... Except my dad.”

“And that’s not somewhere you want to go?”

I shake my head. “He’s busy celebrating Christmas with his second attempt at the whole marriage-and-kids thing. I’m only in the way.” As much as I hate to admit it, the man has a point. Staying with Dad might be my only viable option.

We both sit there in silence, stewing in our respective problems. Not that I have any clue what his is.

I look up when he clears his throat. His eyes are fixed on me.

“I might have an idea. It’s a little out there, though. I guess you could call it a proposal.”