Cozy Christmas

“Listen,” Whitney drawled, “you can pooh-pooh it all you want. I don’t think it’s a bit funny.” She thumbed through her notes, found what she was looking for and began to read. “First, there was the florist, Lily Farnsworth, and Tate Bronson. They’re already married. Then Melissa Sweeney at the bakery took up with her own Mr. Cupcake, Brian Montclair. They’re getting married next month.”

“Well, yes, but...”

Whitney touched the paper with the tip of her pen. “I’m not through. The hardware store is just as bad. Patrick Fogerty is going to marry Gracie Wilson, providing she doesn’t run away and leave him standing at the altar like she did her first groom. And what about Allison True?”

“That one shouldn’t count,” Josh argued. “Allison and Sam Franklin had a history already. I understand the only reason she was considered for one of the grants to start her bookstore was because she’d been away from Bygones for so many years she was no longer thought of as a local.”

“Fine.” Whitney sighed and paused for a sip of her mocha latte. “Then explain the pet store romance and engagement.”

“You can’t include that one, either.”

“Why not?”

“Because Vivian Duncan works for Allison, not Chase Rollins. His store had nothing to do with it.”

Looking past him and seeing a group of teens entering, Whitney said, “You’d better go. You have customers.”

“That bunch?” Josh barely took his eyes off her. “They just want to play computer games. They can log themselves on without my help.”

He rested his chin in his palms and gave her another lazy grin. “So, what was it you wanted to interview me about? I’m all yours.”

At that moment, all Whitney could think to ask was, How did you get so good-looking? She was certainly not going to give voice to anything like that.

Instead, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with one finger and pretended to concentrate on her notes while she wrestled to subdue her errant emotions. She wished her cheeks didn’t feel so unusually warm.

* * *

Josh could tell his casual repartee had rattled the cute reporter. Well, too bad. She had been sticking her nose into his business from the moment he’d arrived in Bygones. If she had been old and ugly, or even just a little slow-witted, he’d have been fine. Unfortunately, she was none of those things.

Thinking about his prior encounters with Whitney made him smile. Actually, any time he let his thoughts drift her way he found an unexpected lift. His rational mind kept arguing that there was no good reason for feeling that way, yet he did. And that connection was getting stronger the longer he knew her.

In view of the fact that he still had a successful software business to run in St. Louis, developing an emotional attachment to the local reporter was not only foolish, it was counterproductive. He had never intended to stay past the first of the year and nothing had happened since his initial arrival in Bygones to change those plans. Now that his coffee shop was starting to show a profit he felt certain it would be salable. So why was he starting to have mental reservations about putting it on the market?

“Hey, don’t look so depressed,” Whitney joked, sounding slightly nervous. “My boss wants me to write about the successes of the new businesses and how being in Bygones has affected their owners. I’m not going to ask you anything I haven’t already asked all the other grant recipients.”

“Okay. Fire away.”

“You once told me you had never run a coffee specialty store before. What made you decide to learn?”

Josh shrugged, hoping he looked nonchalant. “I don’t really know. I was kind of a computer buff and I thought the two would go together pretty well. By the time I heard about this opportunity, the bookstore people had decided not to serve coffee there, so I thought I’d try it with my computers. I like espresso and I figured the local kids would take to the games.”

“Was it hard to learn how to make the different drinks?”

“Not really. I got a book and watched a tutorial on the internet. After that it was mostly a matter of practicing.” He grinned. “I did drink a lot of my own coffee those first few weeks while I experimented.”

Whitney glanced at the chocolaty concoction he’d served her. “Well, you certainly have a knack for it. This is delicious.”

“Thanks. As long as I stick to a set formula I do fine. The only customers who throw me are the ones who like to invent their own recipes, then expect me to remember and repeat them months later.”

“You have plenty of computers here. You could use one to make a special file for each person.”

Smart, Josh thought. Too smart. “Good idea,” he drawled. “I’ll have to give that some thought.”

“So, tell me more about the other part of your store. When did you get interested in computers?”

“In college,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t pursue the subject further. “It’s just a hobby.”

Whitney’s brows arched. “A hobby? I heard you had repaired laptops for friends, plus you keep all the stations in this place working perfectly. That’s a little more than a hobby.”

“Not necessarily. All it takes is a logical mind.”

“Which you obviously have. You mentioned college. Where did you go to school?”

This was getting a bit too personal to suit Josh. “Let’s just say I didn’t graduate and leave it at that, shall we?”

“Really? That surprises me since you seem so capable. What was your major?”

Standing abruptly, Josh picked up the taller drink and paused next to the table. “Sorry. I have to get back to work,” he said, forcing a smile, “and make sure the kids don’t download something that’s too advanced or adult for them. Enjoy your coffee.”

“What do I owe you?” Whitney called, lifting her cup for emphasis.

“No charge. It’s on the house.”

He could have told her that she owed him a lot more than she knew, but he held back. If things went as planned, he’d never have to reveal his part in the rescue of the struggling little town that was such a nostalgic part of his mother, Susanna’s, memories. At least not before he left there for good—and, hopefully, not even then.

He had not launched this recovery project for the accolades it might bring him. He had done it for unselfish reasons, to surprise and please his mother. However, considering the scope of his investment in the captivating Kansas town, he doubted he’d ever tell anyone how much of his personal fortune he had spent on the Save Our Streets project.

Josh huffed. So, Whitney wanted to know how being in Bygones for six months had affected him, did she? The honest answer was, adversely. He was actually starting to question the wisdom of his firm, sensible plans to sell out soon and move back to St. Louis.

Spending money to benefit others was not his problem. He simply hoped he had not inadvertently invested too big a part of himself.

* * *

Whitney took her time getting into her coat, wrapping the scarf around her neck and pulling on her gloves. Of all the merchants whom she had interviewed, this man was the hardest to understand. To begin with he had seemed a lot like the others, but as she’d gotten to know everyone else she had realized that Josh Smith was different.

Of course, any guy who lived and breathed computers the way he did had to be a little odd. And very intelligent. Perhaps that was why she was having such a hard time drawing him into a revealing conversation.

Watching him bending over one of the work stations in which the teens were engrossed, she shook her head. Truth to tell, she got more usable responses from Pepper, the talking parrot in Chase Rollins’s Fluff & Stuff pet shop, than she did from Josh.

Looking up the name Smith on college rolls was an option that was likely to take her forever. And, since he had dropped out, she’d have even less chance of learning anything about his past that way.

For the first time since she’d met him it occurred to her to wonder if Smith was his real name.

Shaking herself, she banished that thought. The SOS—Save Our Streets—committee had vetted each applicant. Coraline Connolly had headed up the process and nobody was going to put anything over on the savvy school principal.

Plus, Miss Coraline was Josh’s mentor for the project. There was no way he’d have been able to fool her. Absolutely not.

Waving to him as she deliberately passed close by, she said, “Thanks for the coffee.”