“Thanks. When is your other guest supposed to arrive?” Hopefully she’d get a few days of solitude first.
“Any minute now.”
Darn. “What do you know about him?”
“Not much. But he sounds like a lovely young man who’s had a bit of bad luck. He’s staying with us to experience an authentic small-town Christmas. Believe it or not, the poor boy has never really celebrated the holidays.”
“So, it’s kinda like Make a Wish: Christmas Edition?”
“Something like that.”
Interesting. Juliet’s mind spun with a myriad of thoughts. Maybe there was a story idea in there somewhere?
Before she could give any more thought to a plot line, the doorbell rang.
“Oh! That must be him right now.” Brightening, Beverly padded to the front door.
Juliet held her breath expectantly. What if her aunt’s new houseguest proved to be the spark of inspiration she needed?
She suppressed a sigh of disappointment when Luke Davis’s tall, broad frame filled the doorway. She’d met Luke before, during her previous visits to Poppy Creek. And she’d heard wonderful things about his wife and the town’s new mayor, Cassie. But neither Luke nor Cassie could help her solve the problem of her missing plot.
“Hi, Beverly.” Luke pushed his damp dark hair off his forehead.
“Luke, what a nice surprise! What brings you by in this unpleasant weather?”
“Your friend Nate had a bit of car trouble, so I gave him a ride.” Luke stepped aside, revealing the man standing behind him.
Juliet’s heartbeat faltered and heat crept up her neck.
Although she’d caught only a glimpse of him earlier, she recognized the man’s pin-straight posture and the duffel bag draped over his shoulder.
And from the look of his furrowed brow, he recognized her, too.
Of all the men in the world, why did her aunt’s guest have to be the one she’d left stranded on the side of the road?
CHAPTER 4
NATE
Well, this is uncomfortable.
Nate wished Luke didn’t have to hurry home to his family. He needed another buffer between him and the brunette in the Bentley.
“Nathaniel, welcome!” The older lady with long silvery hair wrapped in a bun on top of her head gathered him in a warm, motherly hug.
He wasn’t sure what to do, so he patted her back awkwardly. “Please, call me Nate.”
“Nate.” She stepped back and smiled brightly. “I’m Beverly. And this is my husband, Frank.”
Frank grunted an indiscernible greeting, but gave him a firm, semifriendly handshake. Nate didn’t mind a man of few words. And from what Susan said, more than half of Frank’s vocabulary consisted of blunt statements and gruff sarcasm. So, silence and a solid handshake seemed like a decent start.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” He retrieved the bouquet from on top of the duffel bag. “These are for you.”
“Oh, how lovely! Carnations are my favorite. Thank you! A gift really wasn’t necessary. We’re delighted to have you,”Beverly said with a soft, sincere tone. She struck him as the sort of person who would struggle to say an unkind word about anyone. “This is my niece, Juliet. Although her friends call her Jules.”
“Nice to meet you, Juliet.” He hoped his choice of address wasn’t perceived as a slight, but they definitely weren’t friends.
“Nice to meet you, too.” Miss Proust—who wore a coat that looked like cashmere and pearls that would probably go for over five grand at the jewelry store where he worked—wouldn’t meet his eye, and she shifted her feet as if she couldn’t wait to sprint from the room.
