Dangerous: A Seaside Cove Romance (15 page)

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"Deck the halls with balls of holly!" Rachel joyously sang at the top of her lungs.

"I don't know if those are the right words," Molly laughed, holding out another string of white lights to her friend.

If Molly Smith was honest, her best friend and employee was quite a bit off key. She didn’t say anything to Rachel about her singing voice. How could she when she was helping Molly decorate her tiny store for Christmas? Off the clock on top of that.

"They
feel
like the right words Mols." Rachel smiled at her as she reached down from her perch on the stool to take the strand of lights. "I think this last one will make the lights connect all the way around the room."

Molly stood back and looked around the tiny two-room shop which made up Seaside Gifts From the Shore. She always believed there was a light happy air in her store, created by the many handmade items, crafted by men and women from around town, she sold there. In an area where most of the lower income families were comprised of fishermen and housewives, a lot of crafters were happy to bring in a little extra income by selling their creations. Selling through Molly's store was more time efficient for them than setting up booths by the shoreline during tourist season.

Everywhere she looked there were seashell magnets, necklaces and picture frames. Paintings and photographs by local artists. Handwoven baskets, hand bound journals and pottery in unique designs. At this time of year, there was even a table set up by the local crochet artist Dawn full of delicate hats, cowls, and mittens. The wealthier locals went wild over her use of soft hand-spun yarns.

Most seaside tourist towns found the winter months to be a quiet season with low profits, but in Seaside Cove, it meant tourist season was about to have its second wind. Main Street was transformed into Dickens Village every evening in December, all the way until Christmas Eve. This was the fourth year since the start of Dickens Village, and Molly's second year on the Dickens Council. She felt the responsibility to ensure her shop was one of the first decorated the day after Thanksgiving.

Molly breathed in the scents of peppermint, cider and Christmas trees floating through the air. She inspected the stockings hung over the artificial chimney, each with a different employee name or friend on it. She turned every ornament hanging on the tree so its price tag was easy to spot.

Everything was going to be perfect.

Everything except for one thing.

"Molly, are you going to talk to him?" Rachel's face was pressed against the front window, twisting a long blond lock around her finger. At almost six-foot, Rachel had to stoop to look out the window.

"I don't know
who
you’re talking about." Molly busied herself, exchanging the regular pens in a Christmas kitten mug with Christmas themed pens.

"Jack Frost," Rachel said, sarcasm dripping practically onto the floor in front of her, and cupped her hands around her eyes to see outside better.

"I thought Jack Frost liked winter?" Molly felt herself blush.
Jack Millings
. As far as she could tell, he was Mr. Anti-Christmas these days.

Rachel waved Molly over. "Did you see what he put in the window? Didn't you pass out the Dickens fliers to everyone?"

"Of course I did!" As much as Molly wanted to ignore Jack, she knew she could not put him off forever. She sidled up next to Rachel and looked outside. Instead of seeing across the street to Jack's bar, she only saw her own blue eyes and auburn hair in the reflection of the window. "I can't see."

Molly reached over and flicked off the lights in the main room gasping at what she saw. A large glowing sign proclaimed "Merry Beer-Mas" and was surrounded by tiny beer bottles dangling from Christmas lights.
The nerve!
"I know he got the flier, and it said Dickens and other Christmas decorations, not beer lights! I'm going over there right now."

Molly pulled the door open with a jerk and hopped back as frosty air blasted into the room. Molly immediately slammed the door shut. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Oh come on, just go get it over with.” Rachel grabbed a few warm items from the crochet table and thrust them at Molly.

"Those are for
sale
." Molly rubbed her arms. "We can't just run outside in them."

"He's violating the Main Street Council code." Rachel threw her hands in the air, making Molly laugh. Rachel was behaving exactly how Molly wanted to.

"Well, the start of Dickens Village isn't even for a few days.
Maybe
he is just messing with us?"

"You, messing with
you
." Rachel laughed. "I'm pretty sure he's looking for a reason to get you over there."

"I doubt it." Molly felt her face flush again. "Jack has barely said a word to me since high school."

"He's barely said a word to you, or you've barely said a word to him? I wish you would just tell me what happened at prom." Rachel pressed the palms of her hands together to beg.

"Water under the bridge; it's been ten years," Molly lied. Molly knew Jack was still mad at her for her mistake all those years ago. There was no reason he would ever talk to her again. Unless he absolutely had to.
Maybe if my store was on fire.

"Then, you should be able to move past it. I've seen the way he looks at you." Rachel poked Molly's arm. "He tries to get me to talk about you when I'm at the bar; he thinks he's being slick, but he's not. He’s got the hots for you."

"One, I seriously doubt that. And two, I’m in a relationship with Jeremy. So even if Jack
is
interested, it really doesn't matter."

"Oh, damn Jeremy! I don't know why you still call
that
a relationship. He doesn't even live here anymore!" Rachel looked away from her friend to flick a piece of evergreen off her sweater. "Besides, he's kind of becoming an asshole."

"It's a long distance thing. Many long distance relationships work." Molly ignored the part about Jeremy becoming an asshole. She had been noticing a change in him too since his last promotion, but she was sure it was just because of all the stress at work.
Mostly sure.

"No they don't. Name one couple we know who made a long distance relationship work." Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Me and Jeremy!" Molly stuck out her tongue.

"He barely even comes to visit," Rachel said. "If he really loved you, he'd be here every weekend instead of staying in the city."

"He works a lot. And hey! How did we even get on the subject of my love life from
that
?" Molly jabbed the window, pointing towards Jack's bar. She jumped back in surprise when she realized it was not her own reflection looking back at her.

A man stared at the women through the window. Easily in his early forties, he was wearing a sloppy suit and wavering on his feet. Obviously drunk, Molly thought he probably came straight from Jack's. He was looking at Molly, and a menacing look in his eyes frightened her.

"Hey, get Brian on the phone would you?" Molly heard the fear creep into her voice. She didn’t take her eyes off the strange man as she waited for Rachel to pull her cell phone out and call her boyfriend.

Most of the men who drank at Jack's bar were local, fishermen, married, and harmless. But Molly had never seen this man before and she did not like the way he was staring into her shop. His sweaty forehead leaned against the glass, creating a wet shiny look to the previously clean window.

"Hey there pretty ladies, why don't you open up?" he said, just audible through the glass. As he reached for the door handle, Molly's throat seemed to close up and her heart thudded violently against her rib cage. Had she locked the door after shutting it? She almost jumped over the couple of feet to the door to check the latch just as the stranger tried to turn the handle.

The brass knob jiggled back and forth making clicking sounds that were almost deafening in Molly’s fear, but thankfully the door did not budge. Molly let out a sigh of relief for small favors.

"He's not answering," Rachel said, her voice shaking. Brian was her boyfriend, a police officer, and married to another woman. “I got his voicemail twice.”

Just as Molly accepted they were on their own momentarily, both girls jumped, shrieking as Rachel's phone belted out a top forty pop hit. Rachel answered. 

"Brian? Come to Molly's shop right now, or send someone if you can't come. There is a drunk guy trying to break in... No, I don't know who he is." Rachel put her phone back in her pocket. "He's at Jack's. He's coming right now."

"Jack, you know you're just asking for trouble!" Brian Bishop laughed, walking into the small bar. He tapped the beer strand lights as he passed under them. In his mid-thirties, the policeman was a regular at Jack's after his shift, and it was still a surprise to Jack that the constant diet of fried food and beer did not age him faster. Brian was tall and lanky, but healthy looking for his age, with a dark buzz cut.

Jack raised his hands in surrender. "Now, I looked the brewery up, and the brand is actually made in Dickens, Ohio." Jack handed Brian a beer. A few of the men seated at the bar's counter laughed at Jack's joke. Brian took his regular seat by the register and gave Jack a quick salute.

Hopefully it's enough trouble to bring her across the street.
Jack's broad shoulders, dark messy hair, green eyes, and a leftover Georgia accent was enough to bring quite a few women into the bar, but not Molly. Not once. If only he could show her he how he had changed. Ten years too late for them, but he just wanted her to know the man he had become.

Jack took a five-dollar bill from Brian and when he turned around with change, Brian waved it away. "Thanks, man."

Brian busied himself in conversation with the two men sitting next to him. Jack ran his rag across the counter looking around the room. He was proud of his business. Only open two years and Jack’s Bar was already turning a nice profit every month. He was grateful he decided to skip the fancy decorator - who was going to charge
thirty thousand dollars
to decorate his bar in
the old seaside bar
look. Instead, he had spent the months before the grand opening driving all over the state to buy items from auctions, yard sales and second-hand stores. For less than five grand he created a true and authentic
old seaside bar
look instead of a manufactured one.

Old helms, fishing trophies and framed photographs of tall tales and seaside heroes framed the walls. The scent of leather from the seats, the creaky wood flooring rescued from old docks and the flavorful beer - both imported and brewed by Jack - were like home. A home he was considering selling this spring to buy into a brewery upstate with an old friend.
Gotta let go of her first.

Several locations were available when he was ready to purchase a building for the bar, but when he saw Molly Smith lived across the street from this one, he made up his mind instantly. He had not admitted even to himself that she was part of the reason he bought this place until he saw her with her boyfriend for the first time. Then that awful old pit in the stomach resurfaced, and he remembered.
Molly was off limits
. He realized his mistake when he saw them walk down Main Street hand in hand one sunny spring evening - Jack was chasing after a dream he could never have again.

She had barely said a word to him in the two years they lived and worked across the street from each other. Not that he tried to talk to her after he saw her with Jeremy the first time.

He poured himself a small glass of his own house brew and breathed in both the stout and sweet aromas of the blend. His recipes were his ticket out of this town. His ticket away from seeing the woman who could never love him. Not after what he had done. He took a sip and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing. "Hey, Brian, you want to name this one for me?"

He poured Brian a glass and slid it down the counter. Paul Donner whined, "How come he gets free beer?"

"Police. What can I say?" Jack laughed but then poured small glasses for the rest of the men sitting at the counter.

"Mmmm, man, you know this reminds me of? You probably don't want to hear it." Brian closed his eyes. "Christmas."

"You just got Christmas on the brain man - but I guarantee there are no plastic trees or spoiled little rich kids in there." Jack pushed his sleeves up and leaned against the back counter.

Brian sat up straight. "Well, Scrooge, what would you call it?"

"That's why I asked you." Jack would prefer to name all his blends after himself and add a number afterward to distinguish them. But his brewery partner wanted distinct names. "But no Christmas shit. Not in here."

"What about when it turns into Dickens Village out there?" Brian asked. A the few patrons quieted down to listen. They were used to Jack’s rants, and some of them argued that was the main reason they came to the bar.

"Then I hang a sign on the door that says
Bah Humbug
." The regulars roared with laughter. Jack tapped his fingers on the counter and wondered if he could get away with it. After all, he barely turned a profit during the past two Dickens festivals. Why not keep the Christmas crazies out?

While Brian busied himself listening to messages on his phone, Jack walked to a corner booth where the only stranger in the bar had sat all night. It was pretty normal for the place to be filled with tourists in the summer months, but in the winter, it was rare to see anyone but locals. Even during Dickens. Especially during Dickens. The man polished off two pitchers of beer over the last couple of hours, and it looked like it was hitting him. Jack set down a glass of water and watched as the man downed it.

"I'll bring you another. Can I get you something to eat?" The man shook his head laying cash on the table. He stood, shaky on his feet and Jack cringed slightly as he felt an argument coming on.

"Gotta go," he said, loosening the tie at his throat. He smelled like beer, but like something else, too. Something foul. Jack wondered when the last time the man had a shower was.

"You can't drive like this," Jack said, waiting for the awkward key retrieval. Most of the guys were good about having just a beer or two, or grabbing a ride home when they had too much. Occasionally, there was an incident when Jack had to wrestle keys away from someone who had had too much. But to Jack's relief, the man seemed to agree.

"You got that right, I ain't driving nowhere." The man laughed. "Hotel nearby?"

"There's an inn about three blocks up that way. You think you can walk that far?" Jack raised his eyebrow. The man seemed to be a little steadier now. "I'm sure someone will walk you - if you want."

"Nah." He shook his head. “I got it.”

"It's a cold night. It doesn't look like you're dressed for the weather." Jack looked at Brian to see if he was paying attention to the exchange. The police officer was still deep in conversation with Paul.

"Do a man good to walk a little. Sober me up." The stranger pulled a beanie over his head and walked towards the door. "You said that way right?"

"Yeah." Jack nodded. The stranger pulled open the door and stepped out into the night.

"Who was that?" Rodger, one of Jack’s regulars, asked. Jack shrugged. There was something about the man he did not like. He did not care who he was, but hoped he was gone tomorrow.

"Probably another overindulgent drunk artist." Brian said seeming to satisfy everyone's curiosity. The beauty of the mountains and ocean, along with the seclusion of the town, brought the artists out occasionally during offseason. Last winter there was a guy staying at the inn who was writing the Great American Novel. Barely twenty-one, Jack remembered he ended up just drinking in the bar most nights instead of writing.

"How are things going with Bianca and Rachel?" Jack wanted to change the subject off the stranger and settled in across the counter from Brian.

Most of the town knew about Brian's affair with Rachel. Hell, Bianca probably did. Jack did not approve of what Brian was doing, but he did feel sorry for the man in a way. Brian was torn between the woman he fell in love with in high school and the woman he loved now. Jack also knew it was why Brian was in the bar several evenings a week while his wife thought he was working. The girlfriend, Rachel, worked across the street at Molly's. Brian often picked her up after her shift. Brian's home was a town away, so he did not worry much about being caught.

"I'm not talking to you about it. I don't need the guilt trip tonight," Brian grumbled. "Why don't you tell me how things are going with you and Molly?"

"Things are not going for Molly and me, and I don't know why people think they are." Jack's good mood instantly darkened.

"She lives across the street,” Brian said before draining his glass.

"We haven't been together for ten years." Jack fumed as he thought about prom night. Molly witnessed something he never thought he was capable of and walked out on him. He spent the last two months of senior year begging for forgiveness, but she refused to speak to him. His heart sunk just thinking about that night, and as always, he pushed the depression away. No use feeling sorry for himself.

The worst had been when he ran into her at the gas station a few months after she graduated from college. She was dating Eli at the time, and Jack could barely look at her after he saw Eli's arm around her. When he realized all those old feelings were back, or had maybe never gone away in the first place, he finally took his uncle up on his offer to work on his boat in Alaska. Jack never looked back until a few years ago when his father died. He had been able to push the thoughts of missing Molly away. Too bad he could not do that when his father died and Jack had to come back to this town.

"You gonna get that?" Jack asked, pulled from his thoughts at the sound of Brian's phone playing Jingle Bells in a low woman's voice.

"It's Rachel. That's her singing too," Brian said, chuckling. "So, where did you just go?"

"Huh?"

"I say Molly's name and you completely zone out for two minutes," Brian said, spinning his phone between his fingers.

"No, I didn't," Jack said. Then as Brian's phone began to ring again, "Answer your fucking phone. And change your damn ring tone."

Jack turned his back to Brian to visit his other patrons and see who needed a refill. He looked over just in time to see an angry Brian shove his phone in his pocket and run out the door without his hat or keys. Jack grabbed them off the counter and followed Brian into the cold winter night.