Bakersfield was home. Always had been, always would be. At least, that’s what I’d believed. But sitting across from Jonas, with holiday lights glowing in the frosted diner window behind him, I suddenly wasn’t so sure.
My parents were there, of course. And my best friend. Well, she was about to move to Rhode Island with some guy she’d met online, which only underscored how little Bakersfield had left to offer. Especially when it came to single men. The dating pool had dried up faster than eggnog at a church Christmas social.
“No,” I blurted. “I don’t plan to stay there. I mean, I always thought I would, but with a population of only three thousand eight hundred forty-seven?—”
“And you know three thousand eight hundred forty-six of them,” he cut in.
I grinned. “I’m pretty sure I know the three thousand eight hundred forty-seventh person too.”
I took another bite of pie, chewing slowly as I debated how much to open up to him. I could keep it safe—eat, smile, leave—but that was the old me. The one who played it comfortable, never stepping beyond the Christmas lights strung around her small-town porch. I wanted more now.
“There’s nobody to date,” I said finally. “I’m hopelessly single. It’s not like Wildwood Valley, where you can just hop on the interstate and be in a bigger town in five minutes.”
“More like twenty,” he corrected with a smirk.
“Okay, even twenty. For me, it’s an hour, and even then, there aren’t jobs there unless you want to work retail. But I love small-town life. And Bakersfield is quaint, but it’s nothing like this place.”
“No mountains,” he said. “I live for my morning hikes up Wildwood Ridge.” He leaned back, Christmas lights reflecting in the sheen of his dark eyes. “But about that singles scene. You won’t find a better one here. Not when it comes to single women to hang out with. When festivals aren’t going on, it’s just us men and the women who moved here to be with us.”
Be withus.
My heart dipped. A woman had moved here for him?
As though reading my thoughts, he leaned in. “Be withthem. I’m single, like you.”
Relief poured through me so fast, I set my fork down before I dropped it. “Oh. Good. I mean—not good that you’re single if you don’t want to be, but good that—” I clamped my lips shut. “You know what I mean.”
He gave me a slow, knowing smile. “I know what you mean.”
The way he was looking at me made my cheeks go hot. Brown eyes, steady and unflinching, like he could see right through my candy-cane-printed sweater. Thrilling and terrifying, all at once.
“So what’s your story?” he asked, his voice a low rumble beneath the Christmas music. “How does someone as beautiful as you end up hopelessly single in a town where you know everyone?”
Beautiful. The word fluttered through me, warm and unsteady.
“You really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
I picked at my crust, the buttery scent lingering in the air. “It’s not that exciting. Small town, small dating pool. Most guys I went to school with either left and never came back, or they stayed and married their high school girlfriends right after graduation.”
“And you didn’t go to college?”
“Couldn’t afford it.” The words tasted sharper than the pie. “My parents had to choose between me and my brother. He had a partial scholarship for baseball, so…” I shrugged. “Different paths.”
Jonas’s gaze softened, steady in the glow of the tiny Christmas wreath hanging in the booth window. “That must have been hard.”
“It was what it was. I started my bell business instead, and it worked out. College boys probably wouldn’t have been any better anyway.”
“What about after high school? Surely someone?—”
“Nope.” My cheeks burned. “Like I said, slim pickings. Jesse Benson at the hardware store cared more about his truck than anything else. Brody McKellar moved to Atlanta. That was about it.”
Jonas studied me with an intensity that made my pulse skip. “So you’ve never…?”
The question dangled. My face flamed.
“I’ve dated,” I said. “Sort of. There was a guy I met at a craft fair, but it fizzled after a few calls. Before that—honestly? No. Not really. I’ve never had a real relationship.”
