“This town doesn’t only do overkill with Christmas.”
"What else do they overkill?" He glances my way when he comes to a stop at the crosswalk.
"Just stay on this road until the second stop sign and then take a right," I tell him. "You'll know what house is mine."
"Oh, you really are close then."
"Yep, but this town can make a three-minute walk take thirty minutes."
"So that’s the overkill?” he asks.
"Cheerful has a way with love."
"Are you saying they go bonkers for Valentine's too?"
I let out a teasing gasp. “We'd never betray Christmas that way. Nah, the town’s just a little funny with love. The theory is that when a member of Cheerful finds their forever person, it hits them hard and fast here. People must have seen you stalking outside my bakery today, so now they think we're a thing."
"I'm guessing the one with the pink lights,” Noah says and nods toward my home. It's only been over the past few years that I've made it more mine.
"That's me,” I agree.
I expect him to deny the stalker comment, but he doesn’t. He simply parks and then hurries around to open my door for me.
I’m not sure what to make of this man, but I have to admit, that's part of the fun. Who would have thought I’d ever use a word like that to describe a Grinch like Noah?
Chapter Eight
NOAH
“Whoa,” I say when I step inside, and for half a second I see Molly’s smile falter. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”
“Really?” She looks disbelieving as she closes the door and hangs her coat up next to it.
“Seriously.” I look back at the house and shake my head. “The woodwork is incredible. Is the railing hand carved?”
“Oh.” She seems surprised by this question. “I don’t know. This was my aunt's house. We moved here when I was little, but she passed away recently, and I don’t know the history of it.”
“There’s a historic plaque on the front porch,” I say, and her eyes widen.
“There is?”
I’m well aware that I notice things like this because I’m an engineer. I love structures and the way things are built, but I’m also a sucker for a historic home. “Yeah, it says it was built in 1890. They don’t make them like this anymore.”
“I guess I always thought of it as a gingerbread house,” Molly shrugs. “It kind of looks like one from the front.”
“Yeah, Victorian revivals have that look. They’re usually pastel colors, so the pink was a good choice.” Molly seems surprised by this information. “And I can see the Christmas decorations reflect that.”
“I thought that’s what you were commenting on when you first walked in.” She looks around the space like she’s trying to see it through my eyes. “I know it’s a lot, but I love it.”
“I don’t have a problem with extra.” She narrows her eyes on me. “What? It would be different if you brought me into a modern house with minimalist vibes and you had decorations everywhere. But in a house like this, extra is exactly what it’s supposed to be. Look at the ceiling and the floors and all the woodwork around the door frames. Everything is ornate and over the top. Hence, extra.”
“Maybe that’s why I love it so much,” she says. “Come on, I’ll show you to the kitchen.”
The back of the house is where some updates have been made with a modern kitchen and a family room that was most likely a bedroom at some point. The restoration was done with care to the house, and I can’t get over how beautiful it is. I can see why Molly loves it and also why she could probably never leave it.
Not that I’m thinking about her leaving here. I mean, where would she go? With me? Yeah, right, it’s not like I’d want her to come live with me in the city. My apartment is cramped and sterile compared to this soft space. Molly’s home is a place to raise a family, where mine is cold and impersonal like an office. The city isn’t the place for her. She’s meant for a town like Cheerful. Where everyone knows her and celebrates her talents. Not in the city where she’d get pushed off the sidewalk and lost in the shuffle.
The thought of her not fitting into my world saddens me for reasons I’m not willing to admit. But it’s not like I could fit in here. I’m surly, and most people find me standoffish. I work well with others on projects, but I’m not their friend. We’re not working together to have a good time; we’re working toward a goal. Once that’s done, so are we. I’m not the type of person that walks down the street and people say hello to me, even if that’s exactly what happened today. They were only being nice because of Molly. Not because they know me.
