Unexpected Gift Page 2

  Ivy waves me off heading for town. “Grocery shopping and fishing that sea for men is all the same in my book.”

  I find myself smiling and peering out the window at the passing scenery. Christmas in Cringle Cove is magical even with all the stress weighing down on me. The snowfall has started but is nowhere at its peak. Everything glistens and twinkles under the sparkle of its beauty.

  A black truck whizzes by us. My heart falters for the briefest of seconds. I don’t miss Ivy’s gasp either. Crazy how one vehicle could bring back so many damn memories of my first love.

  “It’s not him,” I mutter continuing to stare out the window watching the scenery fly by.

  “Just haven’t seen a truck like that in years,” Ivy replies.

  “Yeah, like our senior year when he pulled out of our hometown.”

  Ivy cranks up the radio blaring her favorite Christmas album, NSYNC. She’s the friend who begins listening to Christmas music the day after Halloween and had her salon and studio apartment decked out with decorations the day after Thanksgiving. She’s the Miss Clause in our relationship while I’m the Grinch.

  I used to be like her. The thing is until you barely make it from month to month financially and the business you owned once thrived, and you can scarcely bring three customers a month, it puts a damper on your outlook on life. It’s not a fun game to be in at all.

  You’ve got this, Poppy. Sit down and work out another marketing plan. Focus on the positives. Don’t give up. Shit like that you can only repeat in your head so many times before you go straight nuts.

  “Coffee first,” Ivy declares rolling down Main Street.

  “No, groceries first. Let’s get that out of the way, so I can actually enjoy my coffee without stressing over a mile long to-do list.”

  “Fine.” Ivy parks in front of her salon.

  Her salon is right in the center of town. Cringle Cove has always been centered around Main Street with several shops lining each side, making it possible to walk anywhere you need to go. However, I don’t think Ivy has thought through the fact that we will have to pack several bags of groceries a block. I’ll keep that little nugget a surprise for now.

  The tip of my nose tingles by the time we make it into the grocery store. I rub my gloves together trying to warm up as Ivy snags a cart.

  “Get the list out and let’s tackle this bitch.” Ivy twists her hands around the shopping cart handle as if she’s revving up a motorcycle.

  I do just that while rolling my eyes. If Ivy gets married, she better find a man that cooks and cleans. Household duties have never been her wheelhouse. I stay in control of the list tossing items in the basket. I learned my lesson a long time ago not to let Ivy help. She thinks evaporated milk and sweetened condensed milk are the same thing.

  We round out the shopping spree in the produce aisle. I toss in plenty of celery, carrots, garlic, and onions. My brothers can demolish an entire pan of stuffing on their own. It’s their favorite and Lord knows, Mom will be pitching a fit if her boys don’t get their favorites.

  “No.” I slap Ivy’s hand as she tries to toss a box of Twinkies in the basket.

  “Yes.” She manages to get them in.

  “Are you serious?”

  She ignores me, pushing the cart toward the long lines of people waiting to check out.

  “Ivy put those back.” I nudge her shoulder when I catch up to her.

  “No, I like them.”

  “Did you not see the dozen pies I baked?”

  She nods. “Yeah, I’ll eat those too, but nothing can beat a spongy Twinkie.”

  A scowl forms on my face knowing I won’t win this battle.

  “Poppy.”

  I turn when I hear my name to see a local waving and coming my way.

  “Delores, hi.” I tuck my hands in my pocket and take a step back because everyone knows Delores is a face talker.

  “I’ve been meaning to call you the last few days. I know the B & B is shut down for your family Christmas, however, we are having our celebration this year on New Year’s Day. Do you think you’ll have six rooms open that week?” She steps closer missing the social cue. “It’s been years since all of us have got together. Every single one of us Collins will be in town. My Aunt Karen is even making it and I know there’s no way she’d be happy about staying in one of the new fancy inns. Her and your Aunt were good buddies back in the day. There are stories of those two ripping up the town.”

  I’ve opened my mouth at least five times to let Delores know I have rooms available. It’s damn tricky getting a word in with her. Something catches her attention causing her to pause a second. I take advantage of it.

  “Yes, Delores. I’ll put you down for that. Your family can use the kitchen and common room too. It’s all yours.” I smile brightly. “Have a great Christmas.”

  “Thanks, Poppy. This will mean so much.” Delores eyes her next victim and is off.

  When I glance around Ivy is nowhere in sight. The line has passed right by me. I sidestep behind the customers waiting to get checked out to see Ivy waiting by the door smiling at something on her phone. It’s one of those giddy smiles. I’ve caught her doing that quite a bit the last two weeks.

  The groceries are bagged with a long receipt hanging out of one.

  “Let me get some cash out of the ATM.”

  Ivy’s head pops up. “Nope, no way let’s go.”

  “Ivy,” I scold her.

  “Poppy, just shut the hell up. You’ve fed me every single holiday. You don’t allow me to help cook this is the least I could do.”

  “I don’t allow you to cook because you freaking can’t. It’s not out of courtesy, Ivy.”

  The bitter breeze nips at faces as we pack the groceries back to her car. Multiple bags hang off each of our arms.

  “Get over it. After ten plus holidays with you feeding me I think the least I can do is buy the last minute shit to make the feast.”

  “Okay, but that’s enough.” I stare over at her. “I don’t want to feel like a charity case.”

  “Letting others love you is far from a charity case, Poppy. You may not be able to accept love, but you don’t have the right to shut others out.”

  “Fine.”

  Ivy pops the trunk as we lower all the groceries in. Then we stroll arm in arm down Main Street to Myles’ coffee shop. Ivy is right. This happens about every six months. She puts me in my place, then I feel like an ass. I just haven’t managed to learn how to pry down my walls. The foundation was built when Roan left me behind in the dust and the walls made solid with my one night stand who gave me money to hide his little secret.

  I inhale deeply excited over the fact the B & B will have visitors the first week in January. And as annoying as Delores is she sparked a marketing idea. I’ve been battling the bigger, fancier inns and rental cabins. There’s no way in hell my B & B will ever be as posh as theirs. I’ve been blinded by the dazzle and luxury of what others offer in Cringle Cove instead of focusing on the fact my B& B is built on history, raw goodness that holds so many memories. And that’s what I’ll be focusing on.

  Myles’ coffee shop is packed which was to be expected especially with Cringle Cove filling up with tourists ready to enjoy their holiday break. Ivy spots a few of her clients who wave her over. I nod for her to go knowing her coffee order to perfection.

  I find myself waiting in line humming the version of Jingle Bells playing overhead. The tiny gleam of holiday spirit bubbles up inside of me. I make a vow right here and now to focus on that until it blooms. Grace wasn’t much into Christmas last year, but this year will be a whole new game. I can’t wait to see her excitement on Christmas morning.

  “What can I get you?”

  The line moved faster than expected once I was drowning in happiness. It’s a foreign feeling, but a damn good one.

  “Um a large white peppermint chocolate mocha hot and then a large cafe vanilla Frappuccino, non-fat, added shot with no whip.”

  Ivy’s
coffee order is always a mouthful. Fits her diva personality. I’m certain I could’ve said Ivy’s order please and any worker would know what I meant. I pay then shake my head stepping back, while I wait on our order. People come and go with bright smiles on their faces. Most of them have shopping bags dangling off their arms.

  I managed to get all of my Christmas shopping done on Amazon. Part of me felt guilty not supporting local businesses, but the fact is most places in Cringle Cove are overpriced and marketed toward tourists.

  I spot our coffees on the counter, wait for an older woman to grab hers, and then shuffle up to snag them. The warmth of the liquid warms my hands through my gloves. The coffee scent makes my mouth water. I know I should wait, but can’t handle it. I blow into the tiny opening and take an even tinier sip. Myles’ coffee is the best around. No need for a Starbucks for this girl.

  I turn, whipping my head up to look for Ivy, and slam into a brick wall. Coffee sloshes over one cup while the other cup’s lid flies off with searing hot liquid drenching through my gloves and sweater. The material keeps the heat. I keep the yelp of pain inside. I can’t set the coffee cups down fast enough as my skin feels like it’s boiling.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I whisper tugging off my gloves and rolling back my sleeves.

  A large tan hand wraps around my forearm then a napkin appears dabbing at the sticky coffee.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  That voice. That smell. No way in hell.

  “Are you okay?”

  That voice. That smell. I squeeze my eyes shut praying like hell I’m wrong. It’s the Christmas miracle I never wished for. My heart beats out memories of a first love, happy memories, and the day he left without looking back. And somehow in Roan fashion he makes that aching heart beat a little faster. I force myself to remember all of the pictures plastered on social media of him with dozens of random women. Their hands all over him.

  “Hey, are you okay?” His gravelly voice vibrates through me.

  I whip the remnants of the hot liquid from my wrist chalking this up to my life and glance up into the most hypnotizing eyes I’ve ever came across. My heart skips, melts, and somersaults all at the same time. It’s the power Roan McDaniels has always had over me. Just his voice streaming through the radio has held me hostage for years now.

  “Poppy.” His powerful hand that’s usually strumming a guitar comes up to cup my cheek. “It’s you. It’s really you.”

  His words and touch cause me to flinch. Roan takes a step back dropping his hand, and tugging down his ball cap. That sexy hand goes to the hoodie over his trucker hat tugging down his hood further. Dark aviators cover his face. If it wasn’t for his unique voice and touch I never would’ve recognized him.

  The man who was my first love and everything. We were going places until he left me in the dust. Just like that, all the happy memories dissipate leaving behind hurt and agony in their wake.

  “Roan.” His name escapes my lips.

  I shake my head and gain my bearings even though my world is still trembling on its axis.

  The side of his mouth turns up in a crooked smile. It has the power to dazzle and overwhelm me like nothing ever has before.

  “I’m sorry.” The two words sing to my heart.

  I’d assume he’s talking about the coffee, but my heart tells me it’s so much more. There’s sympathy playing out in his eyes. He’s not the man, bold and brazen, splashed across every single national magazine. No not at all, he’s the small town boy I grew up with a good forty miles from Cringle Cove.

  “It’s fine.” I duck my head and reach for the coffee that didn’t spill hoping like hell it’s Ivy’s because I know damn well she’ll demand another one.

  Seems shit luck is on my side today. I’d thought at least one of the coffees were unharmed. I was so very wrong.

  Roan clears his throat getting my attention. I have no self-control as I realize I’m glancing back up at him.

  “Could we get a new order for her please?” He steps past me, his rich musky scent mixed with the slightest scent of oranges bathing over me.

  “No, it’s okay, Ro-” I don’t finish his name knowing he’s doing his best to stay undercover. “It’s fine, really.”

  “Already making them.” The chipper worker announces.

  Sweet Jesus. I nibble on my bottom lip wanting the floor to swallow me whole. Roan turns back to me with nothing but kindness playing out in his eyes. He takes a long sip of his coffee. My insides melt when he licks his full bottom lip and extends the cup to me.

  “White chocolate peppermint mocha.” He grabs my hand placing the cup in it. The slight touch sends a thrill of electricity through me. “Is it still your favorite holiday coffee?”

  I nod and smile, the heat from his coffee warming my palm like Roan’s presence is doing to my insides. At this point, I’m going to be more well done than the holiday ham.

  “Here for the holidays?” Roan relaxes back on the counter tucking his hands in his jean pockets.

  Just for a glimmer of a second his t-shirt rises up exposing a slice of tanned and toned skin. At first glance, I’d never tell he’s been in rehab recovering from the lowest point of his life.

  A glimmer of light catches my attention. On his leather jacket there’s an old bronze pin. The one I gave him for his fifteenth birthday. I shake my head clearing away all of the confusion.

  “I live here.” I clear my throat and take a long drink of the mocha.

  Big mistake. His lips were wrapped around it. I taste his well-loved scent dancing on my tongue with the cheer of peppermint mingled in. I’m so screwed.

  “What’s going on?” Ivy bounces up to me not taking in anything happening around her. “Where’s my coffee?”

  “Here you go, sir!” The server hands two coffees over to Roan.

  It’s like the quiet before the storm. Ivy knows all. She went to high school with Roan and I. I have no doubt shit is about to go down and she won’t give a damn about keeping his identity under wraps. Just like a tornado shredding the roof from a well-loved house, Roan turns around with two cups of coffee in his hands.

  Even through his disguise, there’s no way for Ivy to mistake who this man is. Not even a half second ticks by before Ivy’s jaw clenches.

  “Are you freaking kidding me right now?” She pokes him in the chest.

  I take a long gulp of the coffee loving the hell out of Roan’s taste mingled with the hot minty taste.

  “Ivy,” he drawls in a throaty growl.

  “You son of a bit-” She thumps in the chest with each word.

  Roan doesn’t stop trying to hand Ivy her coffee.

  “Enough.” I grab her hand. “Grab your coffee and let’s go.”

  Roan takes his coffee from my hand and places the new one in my hands. His full lips go to the coffee cup taking a long drink. I don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Ivy jerks her coffee in her clutches. “I thought we’d have a relaxing afternoon, but I guess it’s true, old ghosts haunt you everywhere right, Roan McDaniels.” Her last two words come out on a screech.

  Part of me is cheering like hell for Ivy while the other part is drowning in Roan. The cheering squad wins out as Ivy and I both stride out of the coffee shop in fashion. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to tell her, but the new hairstyle and her clothes have me feeling like damn queen.

  Chapter 3

  “I can’t believe you don’t have this place decorated, Poppy.” Mom shakes her head almost making it spin in circles, tugging decorations out of the bins.

  “Mom, I’ve told you things have been hard.”

  “Petty,” Grace squeals, tossing up tinsel and glitter in the air.

  “Yes, sweet baby, so pretty.” Mom leans down kissing the top of Grace’s head while unwinding a string of white Christmas lights.

  I relax back on the couch in the main area of the B & B swallowing down the lukewarm last swallow of my peppermint mocha. I can
’t help but smile at what’s going on in front of me. Yes, Roan brought back so many damn memories this morning. The good, bad, and beautiful. It rattled me I won’t lie.

  But watching my brothers tug in a tree that’s well over nine feet while Dad screams orders at them sipping from his whiskey and coffee makes me feel young and carefree again. I get up from my spot since my coffee is gone and snuggle up to my daddy.

  “Boys, get away from the decorations, dammit.” Mom slaps Brad in the back of the head.

  “It never changes does it?” Dad kisses the top of my head passing me his stiff coffee.

  “Thank God it doesn’t.” I relax further into his strong, loving arms.

  Another kiss blesses the top of my head. “I know it’s not easy right now, baby girl, but you’re doing damn good and your mom loves this shit.”

  I stifle my giggle watching Mom and Grace dictate where all the decorations go. It’s utter chaos. But it’s what happens every week leading up to Christmas Eve in Cringle Cove.

  “You know what Mom is going to ask next, right?” Dad takes a long pull from his mug. “And I can’t drive right now, so you are on your own, Sissy.”

  I groan in protest but know damn well I’ll be delivering the cookie trays to all the neighbors. It doesn’t matter that majority of the cabins surrounding us are expensive ass ones where mainly workers or house sitters are there taking care of them. Doesn’t matter one bit to Mom, she insists on carrying out the tradition her aunt started years ago.

  My brothers were banned from the holiday treat handing out years ago when they ate half off the platters. Mom was mortified.

  And on cue, Mom, gives my orders. “Poppy you better get going before it’s dark. The basket with all the goodies in, is in the kitchen. Grace and I will finish decorating the inn.”

  “Hey.” Jake tosses his arms up in the air. “What are we chopped liver?”

  Brad agrees from underneath the large tree as he secures it in the stand.

  “Ya.” Grace throws her arms up in the air mimicking her uncle with garland wrapped all around her.