Lakeshore Christmas (2 page)

“I’m sure I don’t mean to mess with your head or any other part of you,” she said.

He started walking toward the bakery. “So…Maureen Davenport.” He pronounced her name as though tasting it. “From the library.”

“That’s me.” She couldn’t tell if he was surprised, disappointed or just resigned.

He paused, frowned at her. “Have we met before?” Without waiting for a reply, he said, “It’s weird that our paths haven’t crossed, in a town like this. I guess we just move in different circles, eh?”

She considered telling him their paths
had
crossed, but he simply hadn’t deigned to notice her. Instead, she simply nodded. “I guess.”

“This is going to be fun,” he said, clapping his hands together, then blowing on his fingers. “And fun is good, right?”

She didn’t think he expected an answer to his question.

“I’m Eddie Haven,” he said.

“I know who you are,” she said. Good grief, who didn’t know who Eddie Haven was? Especially now, with his anniversary DVD topping the charts. She knew it topped the charts because the library currently owned a dozen copies, and each of those had more than a hundred patron holds. She wondered what it was like for him to see his own flickering image on the small screen, year in and year out, all hours of the night and day.

She’d have plenty of opportunities to ask him, because this holiday season, she was stuck with him. The two of them had been charged with codirecting the annual Christmas pageant for the town of Avalon. She had taken on the job because it was some thing she’d always wanted to do, and she was well-qualified for the task. Eddie was
her partner in the endeavor thanks to a mandate from a judge ordering him to perform community service. For better or worse, they were stuck with each other.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said easily. “I texted you.”

“I…sent you a text message, as well.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to use
texted
as a verb. “And after I hit Send,” she added, “I saw your message.”

In the bakery, several people greeted him by name, welcoming him back to town. Several more—mostly women, she noted—checked him out. A group of tourists looked up from studying their area maps and brochures to lean over and whisper about him, likely speculating about whether or not he was who they thought he was. With the publicity surrounding his movie, he was definitely back in vogue.

“Our table’s over here,” she said, leading the way, on fire with self-consciousness. There was no reason to feel self-conscious, but she did. She couldn’t help herself.

“Why do I get the impression you’ve already decided not to like me?” he asked, shrugging out of his jacket.

Was it that obvious? “I have no idea whether I’m going to like you or not,” she felt compelled to say. “Not a fan of the language, though. Seriously.”

“What, English? It’s standard English, swear to God.”

“Right.” She hung up her coat over the back of her chair and took a seat. She didn’t want to play games with this guy.

“You mean the swearing,” he said.

“Brilliant deduction.”

“Fine. I won’t do it anymore. No more taking the Lord’s name in vain or even in earnest.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” she conceded.

“They’re just words.”

“Words are powerful.”

“Right. You want to know what’s obscene?” he asked.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Violence is obscene. Injustice—that’s obscene, too. Poverty and intolerance. Those are obscenities. Words are just that—words.”

“A lot of hot air,” she suggested.

“That’s right.”

“Now that we’ve established you’re full of hot air, we should get to work.”

He chuckled. “Touché. Hang on a sec. I need to get a coffee.” He dug in his back pocket and took out a well-worn billfold. It flopped onto the floor, and he stooped to pick it up. “Sh—” he paused. “How about shit? Can I say shit?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Jesus—er, gee whiz. What the hell do you say when you drop something?”

“There are many ways to express dismay,” she pointed out. “I imagine you know plenty.”

“I’m asking you. What do you say when you get pissed off?”

“I don’t get pissed off.” She forced herself to use words she’d rather not.

He stood stock-still, as if he’d been planted in the middle of the bakery. She thought for a moment that he might be having a fit or something.

Instead, he threw back his head and guffawed, causing heads to swivel toward him. “You’re killing me,” he gasped. “You really are.”

She tried to ignore the inquisitive stares. “Why is that?”

“Because lady, I can already tell—you were born pissed off.”

“You can tell this,” she said, scowling a challenge at him. “Because you’re…what? Such an amazing judge of character?”

“Because you’re not hiding a thing,” he said.

“You have no idea whether I’m hiding anything at all,” she said. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

His gaze flicked over her, assessing practical boots, the plain cloth coat, the handknit accessories, the glasses, her stack of books and clipboard.

“I know everything I need to know,” he said.

“And what’s that?”

“Ray Tolley says you’re the town librarian.”

Ray, who played keyboard, was in charge of music for the pageant. Maureen tried to decide whether or not she was pleased Ray had discussed her with Eddie Haven. “That’s not exactly classified.”

“You’re a big reader, and freakishly organized,” Eddie said, eyeing her books and papers.

She sniffed. “You’re stereotyping me. Not to mention being completely wrong.” He
was
wrong. She cleared her throat and glared up at him. It was then that she noticed he wore an earring. A single, sexy golden loop in one earlobe. He also had a tattoo that rippled when he bent his arm. She could imagine how it looked as he stroked the strings of his guitar. Obvious signs of a person craving attention.

“Okay, then you live a secret life, moonlighting as a do mi natrix.”

“That’s no secret,” she said.

He chuckled again, his eyes shining. “Right.” He headed for the counter. Halfway there, he turned. “Do you want anything?”

She tried not to stare at the earring. “No. No, thank you.”

With his weight shifted to one hip and a charming grin on his face, he chatted up the counter girl, whose eyes sparkled as she made small talk with him.

Clearing her throat, Maureen organized the papers on her clipboard and adjusted her glasses. She wished she didn’t wear glasses. It was just so…librarian-like. She owned a pair of contacts, but they irritated her eyes.

Her sisters and stepmom had insisted that she opt for trendy Danish-import frames and a good haircut in order to avoid being regarded as a total cliché. But she usually ended up pulling her hair back and not bothering with makeup. The end result was the impression of a librarian trying not to look like a librarian, which was ridiculous.

She eventually surrendered to who she was, and for the most part she was comfortable in her own skin, with a cozy apartment, two cats and plenty of books. She hadn’t always been that way; her contentment was hard-won. And when someone—like Eddie Haven—came along and threatened that, she went into defensive mode.

He returned with a mug of hot coffee for himself, and a cup of hot chocolate. “For you,” he said. “I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“Thank you. How did you know I’m a hot chocolate drinker?”

“Who doesn’t like hot chocolate?” He gave her a smile that made her feel as if she were the only woman in the place. “Whipped cream?”

“No,” she said quickly. “That would be a bit much.” She went back to feeling self-conscious. People were probably wondering what the hot guy was doing with the geeky girl. Some things never changed. Everyone who saw them together would assume he was with her
out of some kind of obligation, not because he was attracted to her. Getting attention from Eddie Haven was like being the dork in school, having her pigtail tugged by the cutest boy in class. She was ridiculously grateful for the attention, even if he was taunting her.

Five minutes with this guy and she’d regressed to junior high. Just for a moment, she wished she could be someone else. That was probably unhealthy in the extreme—to be with a person who made you dissatisfied with yourself.

She patted the papers on her clipboard. It was always a safe bet to get down to business with someone who made you nervous. “I’ve made you copies of the audition schedule and the rehearsal times and—”

“Thanks. I’ll look at it later. Give me a break, I just rolled into town.”

“Where are you staying?” she asked.

“At a place by the lake. It belongs to some friends who go to St. Croix for the winter. Hell, I’d like to be in St. Croix right about now.”

“I hope you settle in quickly,” she said. “This Christmas pageant has to come together in a shockingly short amount of time.”

“And yet it does,” he said, “like a miracle, every year.”

“So it’s been your experience that a miracle occurs.”

“Hasn’t failed us yet. I’m not exactly new to this,” he said.

She was aware of his entire history with the pageant, including the infraction that had earned him his sentence of community service. It was a known fact in the town of Avalon that Eddie Haven had begun his involvement in the town’s annual pageant by judicial order. Following a terrible Christmas Eve accident, he’d been sentenced to help with the program, year in and year out. “It’s been
my experience that miracles work out better when they’re preceded by a lot of hard work and preparation.”

“Me, I got faith,” he said easily.

She regarded him skeptically. “Are you a churchgoing man?”

He laughed heartily at that. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m a real regular.” He toned down the laughter a bit. “Trust me, I can deal with the pageant without divine intervention, okay? And how did you end up with this job, anyway? Did you volunteer or were you drafted? Or maybe you’re a felon like me.”

“Nobody’s a felon like you.”

“Ouch,” he said. “Okay, I can tell, you’re going to be a barrel of laughs.”

“It’s not my job to amuse you.”

“Come on, be a sport. Tell me more about yourself, Maureen.”

“Why should I? You’ve already declared me a boring person obsessed with books and cats—”

“I never said boring. I never said obsessed. The books were a no-brainer and the cats—every chick likes cats. Lucky guess. Come on. I really want to know. Are you from around here?”

He did this thing, she realized. This magnetic thing that made her want to…she wasn’t sure what. Give him little offerings from herself. It was the strangest sensation. Strange, and maybe dangerous. “I was born and raised here,” she said. “I went to college in Brockport, came back and became the town librarian.” She swallowed. “No wonder you said I was boring.”

“Hey. I did not say boring. And it sounds to me like you didn’t have to go looking for your heart’s desire.” She actually
had
gone looking, but she wasn’t about to own up to that, not to him.

“And what about you?” she asked, feeling bold. “Are you looking for your heart’s desire?”

“No need. I know what my heart desires. It’s just a question of finding it.”

“Really? And what is that?”

“I just met you. I can’t be telling you that.”

During their conversation, something unexpected occurred. Against her will, she started to like him. As a person, not just as an amazing-looking guy, a guy who was so far out of her league, he might as well be on another planet.

Planet of the Fangirls, thought Maureen, as three women approached their table. They were all nudging each other and exchanging bashful smiles.

“Excuse me,” one of them said. And it was completely clear they weren’t addressing Maureen. “You’re…Eddie Haven, right?”

“
The
Eddie Haven?” her friend clarified.

He gave them an easy smile. “I guess that would be me.”

“We thought so. You look the same as you did in that movie.”

“Oh. Not good,” he said.

“No, you were adorable.” The three women looked jubilant. “And we saw you on
Extra
just last week.”

Here was something that always seemed to be true. Attractive women tended to hang out together. Each of these had the looks of a former cheerleader—bright-eyed and smiling, in jeans and high-heeled boots, fitted sweaters.

“So…would you mind if we got a picture together?”

“Actually, I’m kind of in the middle of something—”

“Just a cell phone pic,” she said, whipping out an
iPhone and thrusting it at Maureen. “Here, would you take it?”

Before Maureen could reply, one of the women showed her how to point and shoot. The three draped themselves around Eddie and—it had to be said—he lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Thanks. You were really cool about that.” The woman addressed Eddie as she saved the image on the phone. “And I know you must hear this all the time, but I loved you in that movie. I still love you in that movie, every time it airs.”

“Thanks,” said Eddie. “Nice of you to say so.”

She handed him a card. “Here’s my number. For, you know, if you ever feel like hanging out.”

“You bet.”

The three took off, putting their heads together and scurrying away, giggling like schoolgirls. Maureen felt a little stunned. The woman had hit on him right in front of Maureen. For all they knew, Maureen could be on a date with him. She wasn’t, but still. The thing that hurt—and she hated the fact that it hurt—was knowing the women looked at her and clearly did not consider, even for a moment, that she might be…with him. His date. His girlfriend. Instead, they had treated her as if she was his assistant or secretary.

“Sorry about that,” Eddie said. “Now, where were we?”

Maureen shook her head. “I have no idea.” She’d never witnessed anything quite like that before. It was slightly shocking, like an ambush. “That happens to you a lot, doesn’t it? People—women—just appear out of the blue and ask for an autograph or picture.”

“Not sure what you mean by a lot,” he said.

“Has it happened before?”