“Trust me, Grace,” Jena had said as she grabbed my arm and practically dragged me through the market. “This place is the heart of Grand Haven. It’s how you’ll get to know everyone. We do this until November, then the market breaks until March. But we do have the Christmas Bazaar.”
I barely had time to respond before Jena started chatting with a woman behind a flower stand, leaving me to wander off on my own. I stopped at a booth stacked high with baskets of vibrant produce, the colors so bright that they appeared fake.
Speaking of things that were too perfect, I saw him.
Caleb was standing behind a rustic wooden booth, arranging bags of what looked like nuts. The handwritten wooden sign at the edge of the booth read, “Bourbon-Infused Pecans.”
Before I could make another move, Jena came up from behind me and spotted him, her eyes laser-focused. She started to run over to the stall before I could even get my bearings.
I was nervous about interacting with him out in the open. Sure, we had fun and made each other laugh, but was the chemistry enough? Nothing beat when I brought him the escargot so he could complete the bet we’d made while playing mini golf. The faces he made as he ate the slimy snails were priceless. I don’t know what I loved more: the wary look he gave to the patrons around the bar or the contorted look on his face as he took his first bite. Actually, my favorite look was the way he looked at me. I found myself staring at the pictures taken from that night more often than I’d care to admit. Caleb Jameson was an amazing man.
I’d never been so attracted to somebody before.
I wondered what kind of lingerie Caleb liked.
I wondered a lot of things about his taste. And how he would taste.
Grace!
“Grace!” Jena called over her shoulder. “Caleb, this is Grace! You remember her from the bar, right?”
“Jena,” I protested, though I didn’t put up much of a fight. She already had me right in front of the booth.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at her eagerness as she glanced between Caleb and me.
Caleb glanced up, his eyes bright when they landed on me. “Well, well. Didn’t expect to see you two out here,” he said, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He straightened up behind his booth, his easy demeanor instantly making me feel like I belonged.
I smiled. “Bourbon-infused pecans?” I asked, trying to keep our conversation light, given our current company. “Is this another one of your specialties?”
He leaned across the table and smirked. “They’re my personal favorite. We distill the bourbon ourselves, and I’ve been practicing the recipe for years. A little smoky, a little sweet. Trust me, they’re addictive.”
I didn’t need much convincing. I grabbed a cup with samples of the pecans in it and tasted them. The flavors melded together perfectly, rich and complex, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Okay, okay,” I said, laughing. “You were right. These are amazing.”
Jena bumped me playfully. “You two seem to be getting along well.” She looked between us like the cat that ate the canary. “I thought I heard a rumor that you were seeing each other,“ she said, barely containing her enthusiasm.
Caleb raised an eyebrow before he jumped in and said, “How are things with Keith, Jena?”
Jena, the chatterbox, was suddenly quiet and pale in the face. I held back a laugh.
Just then, the sun moved from behind a cloud and pressed down on me. I squinted my eyes and tried blocking it with my hand.
“Here,” Caleb said suddenly, his voice soft and firm. Without waiting for a response, he slipped off his aviator-style sunglasses and handed them to me. “You look like you could use these.”
I glanced at him, surprised. “Are you sure?”
He nodded and shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of them. Plus, you can give them back to me when you agree to have dinner with me.” Caleb smirked as I nodded, blushing from his panty-dropping smile.
Wonderful aromas—from the burgers fresh off the grill to fresh herbs in the salad—wafted from the kitchen into the living room where I stood. Caleb had told me to make myself comfortable while he finished up dinner.
“Is this how old men listen to music?” I joked as I combed through the piles of records in the cubby. Caleb had a taste for the classics, that was for sure.
His home was quaint. Homey. Rich, maybe not in the conventional sense, but rich indeed. Lots of exposed brick and reclaimed wood. Architecturally, it was stunning. But even more than the aesthetics of it all, there was this feeling I got as soon as I’d walked in the door and he took my jacket. Warmth exuded throughout the home just like in Bar.
There was lots of abstract art on the walls. Pops of color contrasted with the dark woods and metals of the drywall and framework. The hardwood floors had thick area rugs covering certain sections. Bookcases housed tons of novels and magazines in haphazard stacks. He was definitely a collectorof things, and everything seemed to have been meticulously chosen. Clearly, Caleb took care of the things he loved.
I felt him before I saw him. His arms engulfed me from behind. “Again, with the age jokes. I seriously thought we were past that,” he whispered in my ear, placing a kiss on my neck.
