I’d been surprised with that delivery on Monday. Leave it to Clay to be fancy right out of the gate.

  My heart had raced as I’d accepted the delivery. Justin and I had built the whole bus around it. It was simply perfect.

  My cousin tapped the lower level under the machine. “Mini fridge for all the milk and this skinnier one for the non-dairy stuff.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Fancy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Not everyone was raised on a farm with whole milk.”

  “They should have been.” He bumped me with his hip. “No cows on this farm. Lots of cider though.” He held up a finger. “Speaking of cider.” He hooked an arm through mine and pulled me out of the bus through the trunk. “Wait until you see what me and Hayes created.”

  I laughed as he dragged me along around the bus to the front. “We made a kegerator—only for cider.”

  It was stainless steel and almost as tall as I was. It was set up on a sturdy wagon so it could be tucked away when we didn’t have enough staff to man both the cocoa and cider.

  “This is perfect.”

  “A few of the guys from this season said they’d stay on and help out here if you wanted them. Clay and Jim budgeted for a few extra guys this season in case the truck bumps up business.”

  “It will.” I lifted my chin and put my hands on my hips. “I stole one of the girls from the bakery too. She’s used to slinging coffee and pastries. I think we’re going to try to do some sweets too.”

  “Cookies and cocoa, baby.” He rested his elbow on my shoulder like he’d done when we were kids. “Or you know the fancy oat milk caramel hot chocolate.”

  I shook my head. “Jerk.”

  I was totally making one of those as soon as I got the oat milk in.

  “Have you ever had oat milk?”

  “I prefer cow.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing. It’s so much richer.”

  “I’ll let you play barista when you open.” His phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and blew raspberries.

  “What?”

  He gave me a quick kiss on the temple. “I gotta jet. Sink blew up in the guest bath at the main house.”

  “Oh, yeah, that definitely trumps unpacking boxes.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Convenient.”

  He held up his hands. “I would never…”

  “Go.”

  Justin gave me that grin that got him into so much trouble as he walked backwards, blowing me a kiss. I flipped him off and he threw his head back with a booming laugh. “Nice to see you back with us, Beans.”

  I looked down at my twisting hands. Had I been that bad when I’d arrived?

  Yes. Yes, I definitely had.

  My hip buzzed, dragging me out of those unhelpful thoughts. My little flip phone was buzzing with a text. Only one person bothered texting me.

  PITA: Did the last of the installations inside the cocoa bus go well? I know you can’t take pix on your 2002 phone.

  Technically, I could, but they were the size of a postage stamp. Hardly worth it. I should probably send him one, but then I’d have to hear him make fun of me even more. I never replied to him, but it didn’t stop him from texting me at least once a day.

  PITA: I should probably get a satellite to take pictures of you.

  Could he do that? Jeez. I was sure he couldn’t—mostly. He seemed to have a lot of tricks up his plaid sleeves. Besides, who even mentioned a satellite? And did he mean get like…buy? No. That was just ridiculous. I shoved my phone in my back pocket.

  I climbed into the bus, ignoring another buzz along my ass. And maybe it reminded me of that swift smack from the afternoon he left. But I didn’t have time to think about Clay right now. I had a lot to do before I lost the light.

  Justin and Hayes had promised to help Jim rig up some frames for string lights through the tree stand. The only problem with being out on the edges of the property was the lack of light. November reminded everyone just how little light there was in the day when it got dark before 5 p.m. By three o’clock most days, I was squinting to see.

  Best get to it.

  I took some time to string up lights inside the bus. The battery-powered ones sucked down double As as if they were dark chocolate on PMS week. But now I had an actual power supply so I tacked on LED lights along the tops of the cabinets. Soon, it was as bright as daylight inside and they didn’t give off a ton of heat.

  It got pretty steamy with the machine anyway. If any more heat pumped in there, I’d have to wear a tank top to hand out drinks. Pretty sure people would frown on that kind of uniform.

  A sharp rap of knuckles on wood had me looking up. I smiled. “Hey, Aunt Laverne.”

  “Wow, this looks amazing.” She smoothed her hand over the dark stained wood. Justin had cut the door in half to make a huge window, then he’d welded the door shut so no one could open the door and cause chaos.

  My aunt took a few steps back. “I love the chalkboard on the side. Is that going to be the menu?”

  “Yep.” I scooted out the back of the bus and hopped down, coming around to meet her. Originally, the bus had been a rather nondescript beige with orange pinstripes. We’d rented a paint spray machine and glossed a bright red color on the bottom half of the bus. The top was now a vintage white. Justin had given me a weird look when he’d loaded the paint gun.

  It needed that vintage element. Perfect white would have ruined the aesthetic.

  I’d found an old poster frame and used chalk paint on the glass, making sure the paint strokes were visible. I’d tacked it up with industrial strength hooks made for paintings. I stepped forward and tapped on the space between the hook and the top of the frame. “I thought I could stick little wreaths here.”

  “Oh, that would be adorable.”

  “Yeah?” I grinned at her and moved beside her to see it how she did. The VW Bus was a bit of a fixer upper with vintage flair. The rusty edges of the windows couldn’t be fixed without putting a ton of money into it. Honestly, I liked that it showed its age. All part of the bus’s rustic charm.

  She bumped me with a bubbly laugh, then threw her arm around my shoulders to squeeze me tight. “I knew this would be perfect for you. Attention to detail was always your strong suit.”

  “Justin helped.”

  “I’m sure you told him exactly what to do.”

  I tried not to smile, but it was mostly true. He’d taken a bit of creative license with the carpentry aspects, but I definitely had made detailed drawings for him.

  It felt good to dive in and build something from the bottom up. To just do what I was best at again—coming up with a plan for a project and seeing it through while adding my own little unique touches.

  “Thanks for pushing me into it.”

  She tipped her head against mine. “Oh, sweet girl. I knew you had it in you all along.”

  My eyes stung and the lights glowing inside the cocoa bus shimmered. “I’m glad someone did.”

  “When do we get the first inaugural mug?”

  “The big delivery starts showing up next week, but this weekend, I’ll have a taste testing sesh with a small sampling I just received.”

  “Perfect! I’ll put together an email for the whole company.”

  My belly flipped, and panic started clawing up my throat. My aunt hugged me and I felt a little buzzy and numb.

  Her lips were moving and I was pretty sure she was talking to me, but all I heard was white noise. I nodded because I didn’t want her to know I was falling apart.

  She smiled over her shoulder and went back to her truck.

  I forced myself to turn toward the bus. I focused on the cheery lights and breathed like I was taught. Deep, cleansing breaths that filled my chest, then I held it for a beat before letting it out.

  The roar in my head receded and the lights went back to their usual brilliance. Darkness had crept up while my aunt and I had been talking.

  A honk broke through the cotton-like batting in my head. I turned toward her. She waved me over.

  She must have told me she was going to drive me home.

  I waved and quickly ran over to the bus to lock it up. I grabbed my backpack and thermos before I ran back to her truck.

  As soon as I opened the door, Aunt Laverne frowned. “Everything okay?”

  I nodded with what I hoped was a normal smile as I climbed in. “Just tired. I didn’t realize how long I’d been working today.”

  “Doing what you love makes the day fly by.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  I kinda tuned out as she chatted about the store. She mentioned that we were going to have some family in town for an early Christmas celebration, which would require some actual back and forth conversation.

  My cousin Lila and her husband and the kids were coming in as well as Zoe, Ian, and their baby, along with Ian’s rocker brother Simon and his wife and daughter too. My cousins had linked up with some famous musicians over the years.

  Nick was old hat—he and Lila had been together for a long damn time. We didn’t get to overlap our visits too often. I’d always been in the height of my work season at holiday time.

  But at least I had managed to make it to their wedding. It would be nice to see them again.

  Once I stopped gritting my teeth anyway. I was out of practice with this whole socializing thing.

  By the time we got to my place, I was more than talked out. I leaned over and kissed my aunt. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “You should really think about getting a vehicle now that you’ll be out at the tree farm so much.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got Beck putting out some feelers. I was thinking maybe a truck or SUV.”

  “Good. Something with sturdy snow tires. You might even want to think about getting chains too.”

  I huffed out a laugh. “New York City snow sure is different than out here.”

  “Times about five, I’d say.”

  “I guess I’m going to find out.”

  “You sure are. I’m so glad to have you here.” She gripped my hand. “Never think otherwise, all right?”

  “I know.” My voice was a little husky. I swallowed down a lump. “I never thought I’d be back here like this.”

  “Everyone needs a little help now and then. We’ve had more than our share of hard times with the orchard.”

  I nodded. Hard times were different than a full-on breakdown. “One day at a time, right?”

  It was easiest to parrot my aunt’s advice back to her. Some days I even believed it.

  “That’s right. You’re helping out at the store tomorrow?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Taylor asked me to cover for one of the new girls.”

  “Right. Shannon just found out she’s pregnant. She’s been seeing a fireman over in Crescent Cove.”

  My eyebrows rose. “I keep hearing people mention that town. I don’t remember hearing about it when we used to come visit.”

  “It’s quite the place. I don’t recommend a sleepover there with a man.”

  I pulled my bag onto my lap. “Why?”

  “Seems to be a little magical in the babymaking department.”

  I laughed. That was ridiculous. “Good thing I’m not in the market for a sleepover or a man.”

  “Hmm.”

  I definitely wasn’t walking into that trap. My aunt was near famous because of her matchmaking. I did not need to be in her crosshairs for that.

  I slid out of the truck with a wave. “See ya tomorrow,” I said cheerfully and slammed the door before she could say anything else.

  The porch light was already on, thanks to a timer. As I was unlocking my door, I heard meows and my ass started buzzing again.

  A bundle of mail and a white box was jammed inside my door. Beck must have gotten tired of me not checking my mail at the main house.

  I kicked the box of ornaments as I bustled inside. “Dammit.” I really needed to figure out what I was doing there. Or I could sell them at the cocoa bus.

  Gads, I was even calling it Clay’s stupid name.

  I dumped my backpack by the door, set my mail on the table, then flicked on my wax melter. Candles and kittens were a bad combination, as I learned the hard way.

  I kicked off my boots as Gary weaved around my ankles, meowing. He attacked my shoes, getting his nails caught in the bungee cord-style laces.

  “Enough of that.” I bent to pick him up. He bumped my chin with a purr before clawing his way up my vest to my shoulder. And because he was an absolute nut, he backflipped off me to the floor.

  “Oh, jeez, cat. One of these days, you’re going to land on your head.”

  Gary just flicked his fluffy tail and yowled.

  “Yeah, yeah. Dinner time for us both.”

  Chores filled the next thirty minutes. I’d just found a cool true crime podcast about small towns. Asher Wainwright had been mentioned in commercials enough for me to give it a go.

  I was happily binging my way through his lineup as I crocheted most evenings. Television required too much attention for me most days.

  I put on the new episode about six women who vanished in a small town in Ohio. Asher’s voice was smooth and cultured, which gave a little extra zing to the insane details he shared. I was halfway through a bowl of chowder when my butt buzzed again.

  Didn’t Clay have anything better to do?

  I pulled out the phone and flipped it open.

  PITA: Jim and Laverne sent me pics of the cocoa bus. Very impressive. Someday, when you come into this decade, you can send me better photos.

  PITA: How many things are you going to change at my tree farm?

  PITA: These one sided conversations should be giving me a complex. However, it feels more like an odd dear diary situation.

  PITA: Dear Diary, I miss the smell of Rachel’s hair.

  PITA: Dear Diary, the nail mark tattoos on my back are fading. Is it wrong to miss them?

  PITA: Dear Diary, does ancient texting allow photos?

  PITA: Dear Diary, I miss Rachel more than I should.

  PITA: See you soon.

  Quickly, I snapped the phone shut after I read the last text and pushed it away. Gary hopped on the table and spun it with his snowy paw. I played goalie with him so he didn’t knock it off the table as my soup went cold.

  We weren’t supposed to be missing each other, dammit.

  Gary lost interest in the phone and decided to use it as a pillow. I sat back in my chair, folding my arms across my middle as I tapped my finger against my arm.

  He shouldn’t be texting me stuff like that.

  With an annoyed huff, I reached across the table and poked under Gary for the phone. I opened it again and the texts still said the same thing.

  I started to reply. The painstaking old-school spelling out of words meant it took forever for me to get out my message, but then I backspaced all of my hard work into a blinking cursor.

  Snapping the phone shut, I moved to my charging station at the small table near the front door and plugged in the phone. Draped on the back of my couch was one more reminder of the man I couldn’t seem to put out of my mind. I moved toward the sofa and fingered the collar of the plaid shirt he’d left behind.

  The one I’d worn for him.

  The one he’d peeled off me ever so slowly.

  My cheeks heated at the memory of him kneeling before me. My fingers curled into the material and I lifted it to my face before I could stop myself. Pine and soap. I brought it over to the closet and hung it up, closing the door.

  I bumped my toe into the box by the door with a growl.

  Itemizing ornaments was a much better use of my time. I should focus on the bus and the upcoming customer appreciation day.

  Not a man who smelled like Christmas trees and touched me like he was made for me.

  Chapter 12

  Clay

  The Ghost of Christmas Past Is a Bitch

  Returning to Manhattan used to be one of my favorite things. The city signified endless possibilities wrapped in glossy trappings with a gritty underbelly. The juxtapositions had always fascinated me.

  Tarnished beauty.

  I swirled the bourbon in the glass I held. Endless polite conversations wrapped in boastful accolades buzzed behind me. The third party I hadn’t been able to beg off from.

  The last ten days had been nothing but meetings and putting out fires in every arm of my company. I’d fallen more into a masthead position these days. The overseer and problem solver who was only called in when things were a few steps from chaos.

  For the most part, I liked it that way.

  I had people I trusted running their departments—the gaming arm which had diversified my company nicely, the financial end that kept things running in the black, and the tech which kept us on the cutting edge.

  I’d always been fascinated with ways to make life easier for people. My company specialized in home innovations—smart houses, entertainment, and ways to enhance privacy.

  Ransom said our security was shit, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be happy unless we were all microchipped. He was slightly overprotective. I had a feeling there had been a lot more going on in his life than I knew about during the fissure in our friendship.

  My hand tightened on my glass. One small moment had imploded my entire life and most of my relationships.

  “What are you doing over here, CJ?”

  I turned at my grandfather’s voice. Also, the only person who called me that. “Just working out the Anderson situation.”

  It was easier to lie to him about work. Lucas Winslow didn’t believe in wool gathering—his words—about the past.

  “I thought that was resolved.”

  “I’m still on the fence about cutting ties with them.”

  “You always want to give people a second chance.”

  John Anderson was a good man, with a piece of shit son at the helm of his company. He only cared about being seen in the papers, spending his father’s money, and the next model or actress on his arm. He took too many financial shortcuts that were damaging their reputation—and in turn, damaging ours.