CHAPTER TWELVE
A gust of wind whips down Main Street, and I pull on my hat, lowering the ear flaps to cover the bottom of my lobes.
"When is the parade set to start?" Spencer asks, zipping his coat up the last few inches. He’s lucky. The box from L.L. Bean arrived an hour before the festivities started. Otherwise, he’d be out here in one of his long-sleeve thermal shirts.
"Not until noon."
Spencer checks his watch. "That's two hours away. Why did we have to rush?"
I smile, holding back a laugh. Spencer has a lot to learn about living in Pelican Bay.
My arm jerks forward as Frankie tugs on her leash, trying to get closer to the people who come and go on the street around us. My steps pick up to keep pace with her.
"The Christmas Eve parade is an important holiday tradition. There is a schedule you have to follow."
"A schedule?"
"It's tradition." Frankie pulls on her leash again, giving me an annoyed look when I tug back.
I stop in front of Bonnie’s Diner and wait while Spencer opens the door for Frankie and me. Normally, I wouldn't dare bring a dog into Trish's diner, but like I said, the Christmas Eve parade is special.
"Happy holidays!" Trish stands behind her long counter, already holding two take-away mugs of hot chocolate.
Spencer reaches for his back pocket, pulling out his wallet even as I push his hand away.
" Joslin knows the rules. There's no paying on Christmas Eve."
Her words stop Spencer mid-action. "What?"
I shrug. "The city council picks up the tab for certain treats during the Christmas Eve parade. I told you, it’s tradition.”
Even with my reassurance, Spencer hesitates putting away his wallet. His eyes flit around the room a few times , like he's waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out of the kitchen holding a camera and screaming “punked”.
Trish laughs. "We'll teach him." The door to the diner opens behind us, and Trish waves them inside before turning around to grab for more pre filled cups of hot chocolate.
"Good morning, Pete,” I say as Spencer and I walk out the door.
He raises his hand in a wave but quickly pulls it down again when it starts to shake on its own. Pete used to own the bait and tackle shop until the symptoms of his advanced alcoholism continued to worsen. He passed the shop on and now makes up part of the town’s retiree population.
Spencer grabs my hand, taking my thoughts away from Pete. Our covered fingers intertwine, and even in the brisk December chill, my insides are warm—and if I'm honest, a little gushy. I like that Spencer is a hand-holder. It's a simple gesture I've never taken time to consider before, but it's one that instantly makes me feel safe and secure. And maybe a little loved.
"This is just the cutest dog in the whole world." Pearl, Pelican Bay's resident hippie, bends down, scratching Frankie behind her ears.
Frankie stills immediately and sets her butt on the cold sidewalk. She leans her head to the left, giving Pearl more area to scratch, while her tail wags a steady beat next to my feet.
"How big do you think she’s going to get?" Pearl asks, switching to Frankie's other side.
Spencer's face pinches. "Let's hope not much."
Frankie turns and looks at him with squinted dog eyes from enjoying Pearl's petting, but it's enough to make you think she understood what Spencer said.
"Look at her paws. She's going to be big. I hope you have a nice huge backyard for her." Pearl looks to Spencer.
"Um…well," he hems and haws. I've never seen him look flustered before, but Pearl can bring the best of us to heel.
"She loves my backyard. Chases squirrels all day long."
My answer seems to appease Pearl. She stops petting Frankie long enough to fix a stray grey hair from her long braid. "That's good. You chase those nasty, little squirrels. Yes, you do," her voice softens, and she uses baby talk with Frankie, who eats up the attention.
Pearl stands and steps away, tugging at the bottom of her pea coat. Frankie's head follows her hands as they leave the spot behind her ears, but her dejection doesn't last long. She stands, her tail wagging back and forth, tongue lobbed off the side of her mouth, looking for the next person who will stop and give her attention.
She finds a new target in a matter of moments.
A short, balding man scurries by us with his face tucked deeply into the collar of his trench coat. He's no one I recognize, but the holiday celebration is the largest in the county, and it often drawls in people from surrounding areas.
Frankie barks. The loud sound startles the man and he misses a step. Frankie uses his trip as her opportunity to jump on him, her thick paws hitting him directly in the chest. The man takes a step back, tightening his trench coat.
He glowers down at her. "Stupid dog. Keep that mutt away from people," he mumbles, continuing on in his direction.
"Bad dog, Frankie." Spencer points a finger at Frankie but gives me a look like it’s somehow my fault. "Who was that?"
I shrug. "I don’t know. Probably someone from Whitecap." They're always coming over here to enjoy our city events while never hosting any of their own. I try not to give Whitecap assholes much brain space.
I’m a few steps ahead of Spencer before I realize he hasn’t moved. He steps to the side and pulls out his phone, jabbing at the keypad for a moment. Then, without another word, he turns the screen off and slips it back into his pocket. Men.
The crowd of people taking up room on the sidewalks of Main Street continues to grow as it gets closer and closer to parade time. I'm forced to stop and step around a group of teenagers huddled together on the corner before we make it to Anessa’s bakery door.
The bakery is bustling with activity. Every chair and couch is filled with a body, and those unable to get seats mill about the room, talking with people they know. And in Pelican Bay, everybody knows everybody. A line has formed at the start of the door, so Spencer and I quickly grab a spot at the back.
A few minutes pass as we slowly inch our way to the front. It appears people are ordering more food than the free cookies the city council’s paid for. Anessa must be happy with the increased business.
We’re halfway through the line when Anessa, the bubbly brunette, looks up and spots Spencer and me together. She hands over a small paper bag to an out-of-town customer and waves.
It isn't until we’re three people closer in the line that she shouts above the noise. "Aren’t you two adorable?"
I smile automatically and hope my cheeks were already red from the heat of the bakery rather than the attention.
Spencer doesn't have the same problem. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and squeezes me tight. “Right? I plan to keep her if she’ll let me.”
"And who would say no to having her own hot Marine taking up space in her house? I've got my own in the back, plating cookies."
Bennett peaks his head out from a swinging bakery door. "He's a SEAL, too. And your hot SEAL heard you say Spencer was hot."
She stops, one side of her lips higher than the other, deep in thought. "When is Ridge going to hire a Marine?"
Bennett tilts his head, shaking it side to side. “Never.”
Anessa turns her back to him and smiles something devilish, letting us all know she’s messing with him.
“Be careful. If you rile him up, he won’t let any of us back in here,” Spencer dishes out his warning with one eyebrow lifted, but then laughs when Anessa’s eyes widen.
"He's right," Bennett says, shaking his head before he walks back into the kitchen.
"Trust me. I have no plans to find out." Anessa passes over two pink bakery bags to Spencer, who hands one to me.
Inside there's a fluffy white sugar cookie in the shape of a Christmas tree decorated with green frosting and round, red sprinkles. How did we ever live without Anessa's baked goods before she moved to town?
"Have fun at the parade and a Merry Christmas." She waves good-bye as Spencer shuffles me out the door, making room for the next person in line.
"This is crazy," he says once we’re back on the sidewalk. Frankie pulls on her leash, trying to jump on more people before I tug her back. "I didn't know this many people lived in Pelican Bay."
"Oh, they don't." I laugh as a young kid in a black hoodie bumps Spencer as he hurries by. Spencer stands taller, pushing his elbows out to give himself room. "People come from all over to watch our Christmas Eve parade. It’s Pelican Bay’s biggest event.
The sidewalk is filled with people. The congestion slows down our pace as we walk by people standing on the sidewalk, chatting. There’s a lull in the crowd, and Spencer uses the opportunity to wrap his arm around my shoulder. It makes walking with a leash, cookie, and hot chocolate a tad difficult, but I’m too enamored to care. “Where to now?”
I swing the hand holding the leash back and forth, enjoying the moment. "Now, we find a spot to sit."
My family always watches the parade from a spot on Bay View since the road runs next to the public beach. It’s an ideal location. You can see the water behind you, our large lighthouse to the north, and a great view of the floats as the parade comes down Main Street with the well-maintained storefronts as a perfect backdrop.
But, I can’t take Spencer there. My mother and father have undoubtedly been in their chosen spots for the last hour. Nothing short of an airborne strike would make my mother leave her prime parade spot. Not even hearing her daughter is here with a big, tall, hunky SEAL.
And while I love my mother—she did raise me, after all—I really like Spencer, which means he should stay mysterious for longer. I don’t know him enough to subject him to a parent meet-and-greet. Plus, she is bound to ask questions about how we met one another, and sooner or later, I’ll have to explain the dead guy.
"We can stop here," I say when we reach the corner of Main and Second Street. It's far enough away none of my family already gathered by the beach can see us, and we should still have a good view.
We lean against the brick building behind us. Spencer drops his arm from my shoulder and opens his bag from the bakery.
He takes out his light-blue-frosted snowflake sugar cookie and bites off one of the ends, chewing quickly. "So now we watch the parade?"
"Yes."
"Because its tradition?" He takes another bite of his cookie.
"Yes. Of course."
Frankie sits down on the space between us, content to watch people as they walk by. “The bakery opened less than a year ago. How is a sugar cookie from Anessa tradition?” Spencer asks, shoving the last bit of the cookie into his mouth.
I scoff. “Traditions grow. She’s a part of the town now.”
A large gust of wind off the water blows down Main Street. I huddle behind Spencer, using his large chest as a wind block. It works surprisingly well.
The minutes tick down, getting closer and closer to the start of the parade. With each passing second, my eyes dart back and forth in search of any topic to break up our silence as we both stare into the crowd and people watch. I can't think of a single thing besides the question that's clawing to get out. And that’s not one I’m going to ask…ever.
With eight minutes to go until parade time, I stomp my feet in a halfhearted attempt to keep them warm—one I know never works, but I continue to try.
Seven minutes until parade time, I count the people wearing red hats. The shades and patterns are all slightly different, but it's obvious L.L. Bean had a special pattern in the catalog this year.
At six minutes until parade time—it’s a curse this town runs everything on time. Haven’t they ever heard of starting something early? I blow out a large breath, the tendrils becoming steam in the cold air.
Spencer smiles down at me, his lips stretched out into a full, happy grin. "Are you okay?"
With less than six minutes to go until parade time, I lose my ever lovin' cool in front of Spencer.
"No, I’m not okay. What was all that talk at the bakery about letting me keep you if I want you?" The words rush out of me, not allowing time for a breath. "I don’t know what to say. I'm out of danger, but you're still here. Do you like me? Are you sticking around because you feel bad for me? I can't handle…this. I don’t even know what this is."
My arm flails out front of me, indicating the space between us. A few drops of hot chocolate fly out of the small hole of my hot chocolate cup and land on the ground beside Frankie. The two of them each take a step back, but there isn’t far for them to go in our crowded, little sidewalk.
“I’m walking your dog!” I jiggle Frankie’s leash.
My hands drop to my side, my small outburst stealing my energy. Spencer and Frankie both continue to stare, and I resist the urge to feel my neck in case I’ve grown a second head. Even that would be better than the fact I had a small emotional breakdown in front of Spencer in the middle of Main Street. I’ve gone my entire life never being the topic of one of Pearl’s phone-tree updates, but from the stares of those around us, that comes to an end tonight.
And to make matters worse, both Spencer and Frankie just continue to stare.
"Well?" If I'm gonna make Pearl's list, I might as well actually figure out how Spencer feels.
"I don’t sleep with random women," Spencer says like this is an obvious fact he's already told me. But he totally hasn't. I would remember an I-don’t-sleep-with-floozies conversation.
"Shhhhh." I check the surrounding area to see who heard him say "sleep with". That's sure to draw attention. Thankfully, no one seems to be listening. Although, you can never be too careful. Pearl has eyes and ears everywhere in this town.
"Well, it's true," Spencer whispers. "I don’t sleep with a woman unless I plan to pursue something with her. I certainly wouldn’t let someone stay at my house unless she's my girlfriend."
I lean a few inches closer so no one can hear. "But that was part of your security detail." It doesn't count when he’s paid to be around me.
Spencer laughs, tucking a piece of hair that's fallen in front my face behind my ear and under my hat. "If it was just security, I could've asked any of the guys to keep an eye on you. There's a reason it was always me."
"Oh." That's nice to know. I do my best to look anywhere but at Spencer as each moment makes me feel a little more stupid about my freakout. Scanning the ground, I notice Frankie chewing on her leash. "Frankie, no."
Spencer bends down to inspect the damage. In the short amount of time we’ve sat here talking, she was able to chew more than halfway through the hot pink fabric. "I guess it's time to buy another one." He sighs, dropping the leash, and Frankie sticks it right back in her mouth.
The ground shakes, and I study myself on the brick building behind me with a hand.
"What the hell?" My question is punctuated by a scream.