To Fall Or Not To Fall, page 2
“Who would you like me to be engaged to, Granny?” I pause. “I heard the Menendez Brothers are still in jail,” I say with a straight face, but it completely goes over her head. Or she’s ignoring me. I notice Arabella laughing, though, so it wasn’t just a stray comment.
“I’m just saying that maybe you should put yourself out there.” She looks at my friends and sniffs. “Maybe all of you should put yourselves out there. I know you’re the best of friends and have a wonderful relationship, but you don’t need to spend all your time together.”
“We don’t spend all our time together,” Aria says, speaking up defensively. “Only about 80 percent.”
“No need to be pedantic.” Granny shakes her head. “I just feel that when it comes to the fall festival, it would make me—make you all feel so much better if you had dates.” She looks at me. “And for all the activities coming up at Christmas.”
I stare at my grandma, pressing my lips together to stop from saying something rude. “I’ll try my best.”
“Darling, I don’t mean to be passing judgment, but it would be nice for you to be with someone for one holiday season.”
“Yes, Granny,” I say. I pick up some pumpkins, head toward the counter, and start tidying up some scattered papers. “Was there anything else?”
“No, darling. I just wanted to make sure that everything was going well.” Granny smiles at me. “You do know you’re my favorite granddaughter.”
“I’m your only granddaughter, Granny.”
“I know, and that’s why I’m saving all my money to give you the wedding of your dreams.”
“Well, hopefully Prince Charming will show up and sweep me off my feet and make it worth it.”
“I hope so, too. Unless there’s something you want to tell me. I am a supportive granny, you know that, right?” Granny looks around, rubs her forehead, and gives me a look. I know this is her way of asking me if I’m a lesbian again, which amuses me to no end. I’m glad she would be supportive, but it’s annoying that she can’t understand that I just haven’t met the right man yet.
She turns back to the door and waves. “Well, I should be going now. I will see you later.”
“Yes, Granny,” I say. “I’ll see you later.”
“Goodbye, Aria, and goodbye, Arabella,” she says, and leaves in a flourish. The store is silent as we stand there, taking in the pressure we all feel. It’s not like we want to be single; we’ve just all been unlucky in love. And when I say unlucky, that’s an understatement. I dated a man who treated me to a dinner date and left me with the $300 bill. Arabella dated a guy who worked at a funeral home and wanted to have a date in a coffin. And Aria’s last date asked her to take off his diaper and wipe his butt. She got out of there as he was pulling his jeans down.
Suffice it to say, we are all in “shitty dating experiences land,” and I don’t see tickets to another land showing up in our mailbox anytime soon.
I stare at my two friends and finally speak. “Am I really that much of a loser?”
“Ava, you are not a loser,” Aria says quickly. “You are wonderful.”
“And if you’re a loser, then we’re all losers, let’s face it,” Arabella adds, wrinkling her cute button nose. Even though Arabella is wearing sweatpants and a baggy top, she still looks adorable. She’s lucky enough to have one of those pretty faces that always look beautiful. I think that’s why so many corporate people don’t understand why she’s trying to take them down. “Your grandma’s right. When’s the last time any of us actually had a serious relationship?”
I glare at her. “Don’t you ever say that my grandma’s right again.” I start giggling. Because then I’m going to have to rip off my head and eat it.”
“You are not a loser. We’re not losers. But we do want boyfriends, yet have none. And if I’m being honest, my mom’s putting the pressure on me, as well, because my cousin is going to be bringing some guy to Thanksgiving, and if I don’t have anyone, the numbers are going to be odd.” Arabella rolls her eyes as she mimics her mom’s Southern accent.
I roll my eyes. “That sucks. What can we do, though? I know we’re not the only single women in town who want dates for the festival.”
“Can we find them by putting our heads together?” Aria asks out loud. “Can we find men? Can we bring them to our den? Can we exist in sin?” She giggles. “I guess you know where my head's at.”
“I guess, but my focus right now is on the bookstore, not on getting laid,” I say. “I really need to increase revenue, or I’m not going to have a business. If I don’t have a business, then I’m not going to care about being with anyone. I don’t want to just be a housewife. I want to have it all. I want to have the perfect husband, wonderful kids, and a great job.”
“I know,” Aria says. “I wish someone would just find him for me and make my life easy.”
“Oh my gosh,” I say as an idea hits me. “I just had the best idea.” I rub my hands together in excitement.
“Ooooh, what?” Arabella comes forward, excitement in her voice.
“What if I start a matchmaking service for women to meet someone to go to the festival with, and then spend the rest of the holiday season together? We’re not the only women who are looking for dates. What if I try and find all the single women in town handsome dates for the festival, Thanksgiving, Christmas? And we can have events at the store, which will also increase traffic and revenue.”
I’m getting excited. “We could have lots of really cute, cozy-themed events like pumpkin pie competitions, pumpkin spice latte speed-dating events, and—oh my gosh, all the ideas are coming to me so quickly. I’m so excited!”
“That sounds amazing!” Aria nods enthusiastically. “I can see it now. Maybe we could also have a hayride at the farm, then end it here and have apple cider reading events.”
“Yes! That’s an amazing idea! Maybe we can have something where people have to read their favorite lines from books and talk about love, or maybe we can do an open mic night or something.”
“Yeah, I mean, that sounds really cool,” Arabella says slowly, ever the pessimist. “But do you think it’s really going to work?”
“I hope so. Because I don’t have many other ideas, and I need at least one thing to go right in my life. I can’t afford to lose this place, and there’s no way I’m selling out to a big corporation that’s just going to build another crappy-ass hotel.” I stare at Arabella and Aria and sigh. “And I would love to get Granny off of my ass and show Eloise Laribel she’s not the only woman that can meet the love of their life.”
Arabella grins. “Exactly. We’re going to get rid of all the greedy corporations that already exist in our beautiful small town and stop any new ones from coming, while also meeting the loves of our lives.”
“You got that right.” I grin. “This autumn, we’re all going to fall hard for our soulmates.”
Chapter Two
Theo
The town of Coconut Beach is quaint, small, and picturesque. It’s the exact opposite of what I like in a place to live, but then, I’m not here to move to this idyllic little town. I’m here for business. And though I don’t normally go to the small towns where I want to do business, I want to take a hands-on approach with this purchase. Something about the timing made me decide to catch a plane down the coast and close this deal myself. It is a multi-million dollar deal, and I need to make it happen ASAP.
I look down Main Street at the cute stores and the twinkling lights that seem to be hanging in front of every store window, and shake my head. This place is a living Hallmark commercial. Sickly sweet and picture perfect. It’s the exact opposite of the places I like to be. The sky is a clear blue with thin white clouds. There are sycamore and oak trees on the side of the streets with beautiful changing leaves of orange, gold, and red. I spy some yellow warblers on a tree branch and breathe in the pine-filled air. If there is one word that describes this town, it’s cozy.
The exact opposite of me.
I’m all about modern minimalism.
There’s nothing modern, minimalistic, or sleek about Coconut Beach. Nothing has been updated. However, I know, based on analysis from statisticians in my company, that tourists love the old-timey feel and flock here yearly. I know that if I were able to build a hotel in this town, I would see profits in the 2000 percent margin. And money is something that speaks to me. I didn’t have to stay at the hotel. I just had to build it.
I take a look at my phone and search the shop signs for the store I’m looking for. I see it after a few seconds—Beachy Balls, Biscuits, & Books.
What a name! I try not to cringe and rather observe it objectively.
It’s cute.
Not something I particularly like, but it’s cute. I stare at the small pumpkin lights surrounding the door, and as I look through the glass windows, I see bookshelf upon bookshelf. I take a step inside and breathe in the cinnamon and apple spice mix that fills the air.
Nostalgia hits me as the warm smell fills my nostrils. For a few moments, memories of dunking for apples as a child come to mind, but I dismiss them. Now is not the time to dwell on the past.
“Welcome to Beachy Balls, Biscuits, & Books,” a young woman says as she offers me a wide smile. She’s got long, dark, curly hair and big brown eyes. She smiles as she approaches me. “Can I help you? Are you looking for any book in particular? Would you like a pumpkin spice latte? I’ve got a special going today where I’m adding a secret ingredient, so it’s a little different.” She finally pauses and just beams at me. She’s overly friendly, but I suppose you have to be in customer service.
“No, thank you,” I say abruptly. “I don’t drink pumpkin spice anything.” I try not to shudder. I’m anti-pumpkin spice anything.
“You don’t?” She looks aghast. “But it’s absolutely delicious, and it just makes the season. Don’t you love fall?”
I blink as I stare at her. She’s far too chipper for this early in the morning. “Fall… You mean autumn?” I don’t know what else to say.
“Yeah. It’s my favorite season if you can’t tell.” She giggles and looks around the store.
I follow her eyes. There are pumpkins everywhere, and haystacks, and witches 'hats, and cauldrons, and far too many knick-knacks.
“What is going on? Sorry, is this a bookstore, or is this a fall décor store?” I ask before I can stop myself.
She stares at me as if she is unsure whether I’m being serious or not and shakes her head with a wry smile. “I know, my assistant overdid it—”
“Hey, I’m more than just your assistant.” A cute girl with blonde hair and bright orange streaks pops out from behind a bookshelf. “Hi, I’m Aria.” Her blue eyes are wide and friendly, and I wonder if these two girls can bottle up their effervescence and sell it to stores in New York City.
“Hi,” I say dutifully.
“And I’m Ava,” the brunette says as she stares at me, her eyes sparkling. “Sorry, I’m the owner, and Aria is my assistant, but she’s also one of my best friends. Let me know if we can help you with anything. Feel free to walk around.”
“Thank you,” I say dryly as I step to the side. So, Ava is the owner. The one I’m trying to convince. The one who told me and my company to go to hell. Her emails haven’t been as friendly as she is in person. I smile to myself. I didn’t expect a friendly spitfire like Aria. I didn’t expect warm brown eyes and long, dark, curly hair and an infectious smile.
Not that I will let any of those things stop me from achieving my goal.
I will be the new owner of this store. And a cute brunette with an infectious smile is not going to stop me.
A small fluffy dog comes running up to me and jumps on my legs. I take an immediate step back as it looks up at me with small brown eyes and golden hair. A pink tongue is hanging out and licking my hand, and I immediately wipe away the wet saliva on my slacks.
“Popsicle, stop!” Aria says, though she does nothing to stop the dog.
“Sorry.” Ava runs toward me and picks up the fluffy golden dog. “This is my dog, Popsicle. She loves men.” Ava gives me a little smile, and I wonder if she’s trying to tell me something. “Don’t ask me why, because it’s not like she spends much time around—” She presses her lips together and blushes slightly. “Anyway, too much information. Feel free to look around. And would you like a coffee on me for Popsicle bothering you?”
I try not to laugh at her comment. Is that her way of letting me know she’s single? She’s so different from the women I meet in the city. In fact, she’s the exact opposite. She’s honest, open, and says whatever she’s thinking. I’m used to guarded women who choose their words carefully in order to entrap.
“No, that’s okay. She looks like a happy dog.” I am not a dog person. Yet, I don’t want Ava to know that. I need this woman to like me so I can buy her bookstore. Even if she doesn’t know that it’s me who’s buying it.
“Oh, you should take her up on it,” Aria says. “She makes the best coffee.”
Okay, then “, I’ll have a black coffee, please,” I say, shrugging. If they want to give away free coffee, who am I to say no? That’s probably why the numbers for her business aren’t doing well. Who gives away free coffee when they can barely pay their bills? But I can’t let her know who I am or why I’m here—or I know the coffee will be all over me as opposed to in my throat.
“One black coffee coming right up,” Ava says as she heads behind the counter.
I watch her grind some coffee beans, and then I turn around to peruse the store. It’s a nice size, festive, and fun, and if I were the sort of man who liked bookstores, I might enjoy spending time here. But I’m not here to look for books; I’m here to see how I can make sure Ava sells me the property. She’s rejected every offer we’ve sent her way, and I need to find a way in, because if I can get this property, I know I can convince the stores around her to sell, as well. And then I can build my hotel and make lots of money, which is what I live for.
I look down at my Italian leather shoes and brush off the dust the dog imprinted upon my dark gray trousers that make up my very expensive Armani suit. I run my fingers through my short, dark, silky hair and take a step towards one of the tables. I pick up one of the small pumpkins and look over to see that Aria is grinning at me.
“She thinks I got too many—”
“Sorry, what?” I stare at her in confusion.
“The pumpkins. I got them for decoration. Ava thinks I got too many. But like, Ava’s the fall queen, so I thought she would want loads of them, especially because Popsicle’s going to eat half of them. But I don’t know, maybe I was wrong. What do you think?”
“I think that is a decision between the two of you,” I say, shrugging and attempting to play Switzerland. I’m not really sure what to say, or why I’ve been asked to join this particular conversation. Also, I don’t think that either one of them wants to hear the truth. To me, the store looks like a resting ground for pumpkin rejects. There are so many different pumpkins and fall decorations that I feel overwhelmed.
I put the pumpkin back down quickly.
Ava heads toward me with a small white glass cappuccino cup in her hand. “Here you go. I hope you like it.”
She smiles at me, and I notice the light freckles across her golden tan skin.
“So, are you new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” she asks me, her voice bubbly. “What’s your name?”
“Yeah. I’m just here on a quick vacation,” I say, pausing. I can’t tell her that my name is Theodore Winston because then she might realize that I represent the company she sent many emails to, telling me to fuck off.
“What’s your name?” she asks again.
I stare at her, and then I look at the bookshelf and see a book by Oscar Wilde.
“My name is Oscar.” I pause. Stupid Theo! Why would I say that? Who’s called Oscar these days?
“Ooh, Oscar what?” she prods.
“Wilder.” Damn it, I’m going to be so busted.
“Oscar Wilder, it’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, as well,” I say.
“Oscar Wilder, like the author?” Aria asks me, looking at me suspiciously as she steps forward. Where Ava is taking me at face value, her friend seems more skeptical. I’ll have to be careful about what I say around her.
“Well, yes. I know it’s similar, but I suppose inspiration hit my mother when it was needed.” I feel like it’s best for me to acknowledge the similarities and hope that they buy them. “It’s really Oscar Theodore Wilder, but I go by Theo,” I compromise, because I also don’t want to happen upon either one of them at some other location and have them call me by the name Oscar, and I have no idea who they’re talking to. The fact of the matter is that I do go by Theo, so it’s not like they are calling me a completely made-up name.
“Theo’s cute,” Ava says, grinning. “Are you looking for any book in particular?” She scrutinizes me in a way that makes me feel a little uncomfortable. I shake my head. She’s really becoming quite annoying. Or maybe she’s making me feel the first sense of guilt I’ve felt in a while.
“Sorry, I’ll back off,” she says, as if she can read my mind. “I’m making some gingerbread cookies if you—”
“I’m okay, thank you,” I say gruffly, and turn around.
There’s something about her kindness that kindles something inside of me, and I’m not sure what it is. It’s not because she’s pretty or friendly or overly bubbly—because that’s not the sort of woman I’m into. I normally date sleek, petite blondes who are interested first and foremost in their career, and then secondly, going on dinner dates with me that may or may not end in consensual sex that is fast, fun, friendly, and not at all intimate.
I certainly don’t date women who can’t stop talking and asking me inane questions.
I head towards the back of the store and pull out my phone. I’m waiting for a text message from my assistant, who I’m meant to be meeting up with later to discuss plans to infiltrate the town and figure out how we can get the store owners—most importantly Ava—to sell. Ava is the key to the entire deal going through.
