All the retorts I had about being an independent woman who could pay for my own groceries went right out the window. To be honest, I didn’t have super strong convictions about being an independent woman—no offense to Beyoncé—but it was more the fact that I hadn’t wanted Miles to pay for my things because that would feel like a date. I didn’t need this situation to get any more confusing than it already was. But his brown eyes held nothing but kindness, a sweetness that I hadn’t been expecting.
“Well, thanks,” I sputtered, looking out the window as we pulled back out onto Main Street. For a long while, I was taken aback by the beautiful small town of Montpelier. Trees and hills provided a perfect backdrop to the shops and old historic buildings that lined the streets. Coffee shops, book shops, a toy store and even a record store were interspersed with delicious bistros and restaurants. Beautiful churches and a library finished out the street. Even in the winter, people were out walking the sidewalks, holding shopping bags and chatting with friends. There was an excited buzz in the air, and I could feel it even inside the truck—a small-town glow, like I’d just stepped into a Hallmark Christmas movie. I couldn’t believe places like this were real.
“I can’t believe you got to grow up here. It’s so idyllic.”
He looked at me, slowing the truck at a stop light. “You want to get out? Go for a walk?”
“How did you know I wanted to do that?”
“The drool smear you left on the window.”
I swatted his arm. “Don’t we need to get back for the gingerbread thing?”
“It’s going on all afternoon. We could walk around and grab lunch if you want. I need to find my mom a Christmas present anyway.”
I folded my arms. “Last-minute shopper? And for your own mother of all people.”
He laughed. “I am the world’s worst present giver, so this actually might be good to have some help.”
We sat smiling at each other until the light changed. “So…do you want to walk around for a bit?” Miles asked again, a sweet hesitancy in his voice that did something to my insides.
“Yeah.”
Whatever this holiday glow was, I wanted part of it. I hadn’t felt this way in so long. Miles found some parking in front of the library, and we both got out, the smell of pine trees and snow feeding my soul the second we exited. The lodge smelled very similar, but there was something about this small town that felt different. We spent the next couple of hours wandering down the streets, stopping for lunch at a small bistro that was absolutely delicious. But my favorite was Miles pointing out landmarks and rehashing memories and old stories, like when he and his high school buddies jumped buck naked into the Winooski River running through the town. It had been in the middle of the night, but still. I found it hard to believe he wasn’t a daredevil as a kid, even though he insisted he wasn’t.
“Everybody does a few crazy things growing up,” he said as I tried very hard not to imagine him jumping naked into a river.
“I never did.”
He looked over at me as we crossed the street, headed toward the bookstore a few blocks ahead. “No?”
“Nope. You heard my slip ‘n’ slide story. I never did anything crazy.” And lest he think I regretted that, I added a quick, “And I liked it that way.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t buy it. What was your family like growing up?”
I raised my arms. “Where do you think I got it from?”
“Russ seems pretty adventurous.”
My foot caught on a hidden rock beneath the snow and sent me stumbling. Miles grabbed my elbow until I had righted myself.
“You good?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking. I know Russ isn’t your dad.”
We walked a few moments in silence. Per our agreement, he wasn’t pushing me to talk about anything, but he was giving me an opportunity if I wanted. And for the first time in forever, I found myself wanting to talk.
“Russ likes adventure. But my mom and dad never had much money growing up, so we never went on any big trips or anything. Our one splurge was going to the movies as a family a couple times a year. Mostly, we stayed home. We played a lot of games. We had this thing called quiet Saturdays…” I started chuckling at the memory. “Where every Saturday afternoon, my dad would make us all stop what we were doing, and we had to read a book for two hours.”
“Two hours?” Miles asked incredulously.
I laughed. “It was his way of stopping all the chores so he could get some guilt-free reading time in.”
He laughed. “My dad isn’t a big reader, but my mom probably would have gone for something like that.”
We arrived at the bookstore, and Miles opened my door while he motioned me inside. Breathing in the scent was heaven to both of us, if the contented look on Miles’s face could be attributed to books. To my surprise, a table near the entrance of the store was dedicated to Miles’s Landfall series. Complete with a sign that read Local Author.
I turned to look at Miles, rubbing his neck and looking uncomfortable.
“Is this why you wanted to come here?” I teased, moving to pick up one of his books.
“I didn’t think they’d still have this up,” he said.
“Is that our famous Miles Taylor?”
We both turned to see a red-haired woman striding excitedly toward us.
Miles broke out into a grin, stepping forward to give her a hug. “You’re embarrassing me, Cathy. You still have this up?”
“Of course we do. It’s not every day somebody from this town becomes a famous author.” She beamed up at him. Looking at me, she asked, “Is this a girlfriend?”
“Yup.” Miles smirked at me. “This is Oliviana.”
I gave him an exasperated look before shaking Cathy’s excited hand.
“Well, it’s so nice to meet you,” Cathy said.
“You, too.”
“Will you sign a few books really quick?” she asked, looking up at Miles imploringly.
Miles signed everything they had in stock. We roamed the shop for another twenty minutes before we found what we both deemed the perfect book for his mom. A light snow began to fall on us as we meandered back toward his truck. There were bells in the distance, and the light sound of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” humming through the town speakers. The only thing that could have made this moment more perfect was to be holding hands with somebody. Where were the eyes of my mom and sister when we needed them?
I was kidding.
Miles checked the clock in the truck when we got in. “It’s 2:30. The contest closes at 4:00. How much time do you need to make the gingerbread house?”
“Assuming I have good help, we can do it in an hour.”
“Assume away, Celery Stick.”
“Why do you ask?”
He motioned up the hill we were climbing. “I’m in the mood for a maple creme, and we’re about to pass Morse Farm.”
“Your family can sure put away the ice cream.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Is that a challenge or a yes?”
“No whining with the gingerbread, and you have to do everything I say. And we can only stay for ten minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Miles gave a mock salute as he pulled into the maple farm.