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Chapter One
Our flag does not fly because the wind moves it. It flies with the last breath of every fallen soldier who protected it. ~ UNKNOWN
Staring at the garland-draped courthouse monument, Master Sergeant Zach Dawson’s own breath caught. Memories of his brothers—and sisters—in arms who had given their all threatened to buckle his knees. Unbidden, his right hand flexed. Just to the other side of the marble inscription, a flagpole’s halyard clanged from the crisp November wind. Heart pounding, Zach lifted his gaze to the red, white, and blue sashaying high above the courthouse lawn.
No one loved that flag and what it represented more than he did.
The Army had been his life for so long that almost two years after his medical discharge, Zach was still trying to figure out who he was in the civilian world. He longed to be where the action was, not on a forced vacation in the middle-of-nowhere, baseball-and-apple-pie, already-decorated-for-Christmas, Pine Hill, Kentucky. He’d had almost a year’s vacation when he’d been lying in a hospital bed, then confined within a rehab facility. Being busy kept him sane.
Trying to shut out the chinking metal, Zach took a few deep breaths and glanced around Pine Hill’s revitalized town square. His stomach growled at the scents wafting from a mom-and-pop, oven-baked pizzeria. Garland with twinkling lights and shiny red bows framed windows and doorways. Trendy shops lined the streets, including the one his army buddy Bodie Lewis had disappeared inside to buy dog treats. Paw Parties? Seriously? Then again, Zach would cut his pal some slack since it was Zach who’d been helping Bodie’s wife make snowflakes that morning. Sarah had been so kind since his arrival a few days before that he hadn’t had the heart to say no when she’d needed help with a church project.
Across the square, an arm-laded blond stepped out of a shop with an artsy sign featuring a sewing needle with a string curling around to write, The Threaded Needle. Shifting her wares, she paused to speak with a granny wearing a red Santa sweater, candy-cane leggings, and black boots that came up to her knees. A large cloth bag with the store’s emblem hung from the blond’s shoulder and her hands gripped the box overflowing with shiny green and red fabric. Chatting only a moment, she smiled with genuine affection, then crossed the street to a gray sedan parked on the opposite courthouse corner from Zach. She reached for the door handle just as the wind’s greedy fingers pilfered a paper from the box she finagled on her hip. The breeze twirled the pale green sheet this way, then that, dancing its lifted prize to the noisy flag’s beat.
“No!” She shoved her bag and box into the car, then chased after the sheet, almost comically, as the wind toyed with her, appearing to let go, only to snatch it away just when the page was almost low enough to reach. She’d been too far away for Zach to readily help, but a strong gust zoomed the page across the courthouse lawn and would have plastered the sheet to his face had he not caught it.
The blond rushed to him. “Oh, thank you! I was afraid I’d lost that. How my list came out of my notebook is craziness.”
“No problem.” Zach met her blue-as-the-sky eyes.
Around him the wind calmed, but the otherworldly force blasting his body had his feet bracing to keep from being blown back. Stunned and thinking his reaction must have to do with how the inscription had gotten inside his head, he glanced down at what he held. Wedding Checklist headlined a neatly written list bordered with colorful Christmas lights. Throat tightening, he looked up. “You’re getting married?”
Why his insides felt strangled at seeing a few items checked off made no sense. Nor did his desire to crumble and toss the list back to the wind.
“No. Definitely not me.” Laughing, she held out her hand. “Thank you.”
Zach should give her the paper and be done with little miss blue eyes. Instead, curiosity got the better of him. “If you aren’t getting married, why do you have a handwritten wedding checklist that you chased as if it revealed your deepest secrets? Better yet, how do you make your letters so perfectly shaped and sized? I’m not sure if I’m impressed or scared that this could have been typed.”
“There is nothing wrong with good penmanship.” Still holding out her hand, her gaze narrowed. “Do I know you?”
Zach’s lips twitched. “No, but you should.”
Rolling her eyes, she harrumphed. “I seriously doubt that, but you should definitely ask Santa for a new book of cheesy pickup lines because that one is so middle school.”
“Was I trying to pick you up?” he wondered out loud. Beyond the occasional dinner date, he’d not been interested in dating since prior to his accident. Even then, cheesy pickup lines had never been his thing.
“You said I should … oh, never mind.” Pink splashed across her cheeks. Then with obvious annoyance, she gave him a look worthy of the burliest drill sergeant. “Give me my list and I’ll be on my way so that you can attempt to impress someone else with your lackluster smarm.”
Give her the paper, Zach, then walk away. No need to rebut that lackluster smarm. Especially since she was right. His comment had been lackluster. He forced his fingers to release their hold.
“Thank you.” She didn’t meet his gaze, just stared at his chest, mumbled something under her breath, then, paper in hand, turned to leave. The wind acted up anew, slowing her trek to her car and plastering her clothes to her five-foot-four-ish frame. The gust pulled at her shoulder-length hair, making the strands dance about her, and tugged at the light purple number she wore loosely about her neck. Just as the scarf worked itself free, she grabbed hold and, in the process, lost her death grip, allowing Mother Nature to once again dance her list through the air.
His gaze zeroed in on the paper’s aerobatics, Zach leapt to action. Turning, seeing he yet again held her list, the blond lifted her chest with a deep inhalation.
“Lose something?” he teased, surprised by how glad he was that her departure had been delayed.
She was not similarly amused. Her fiery gaze shot daggers as she marched back. He was positive he died a thousand deaths in her mind and all of them painfully torturous.
With a frustrated huff, she snatched the paper. “Thank you.”
“If you want to spend time with me, Blondie, you don’t have to fake losing your list again. I’ll give you my phone number.” Usually only the heat of battle triggered the adrenaline rushing through him. “If you ask nicely.”
Make that a thousand-and-one deaths he’d died in her mind.
“There you go not trying to pick me up again.” She placed her free hand on her hip. “Congratulations. You succeeded and completely failed to impress. Again.”
Her words might have stung, except something more than annoyance flickered in her gaze. Intrigue. Interest. Attraction?
Fascinated by both the fire in her eyes and the burn in his chest, Zach grinned. “Sorry about earlier. I’d take your advice about asking Santa for that book, but it wouldn’t do me any good. Would you believe Santa stuffs my stocking with coal each year?”
“Oh, I’d believe that.”
He chuckled. “Can we start over?”
Shaking her head, she met his gaze head-on. “There’s no need. Hopefully our paths will never cross again.”
“That would be a shame.” He wanted their paths to cross.
Pine Hill had suddenly become a lot more exciting than just burning up vacation time while visiting the Lewis family.
“I can only hope to be so shamefully lucky, then.” Blondie glanced at her watch, then gave another look of irritation. “But if our paths do cross, don’t feel the need to say hello or any other non-pickup lines.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Pivoting, she fought the wind to her car, got inside, and shot him one last look, one that appeared to be full of curiosity until she realized he was watching her. Then, expression pinched, she drove away with a little squeal of her tires.
Watching the car disappear, Zach crammed his hands into his jeans pockets. He’d say hello and a lot more if—no, when—their paths crossed again. No doubt he’d come off with another bad pickup line just to see her eyes ignite. Blondie was likely more bark than bite, but either way, he’d never shied away from danger. Quite the opposite.
She’d been carrying a bag with the quilt shop’s logo. Pine Hill wasn’t that big. He was there another week and would figure out who she was. That part would be easy. But it was going to take a whole lot of Christmas magic to get her to stop looking at him as if he were at the top of Santa’s Naughty List.
“I’d liked to tell that man a thing or two,” Isabelle Davis mumbled under her breath as she carried a box of Christmas sashes toward the Pine Hill high school music room. “Like how he wasn’t nearly as amusing as he thought he was and how just because he looks like some super-buff movie star, that doesn’t mean—”
“Did you say something, Izzy?”
Ordering her facial features to relax, she smiled at her eighteen-year-old beauty queen cousin who looked a lot like Isabelle’s younger sister, Sophie. They shared the same brown hair and sparkly eyes that were family trademarks. Isabelle was an outlier with her blond locks and blue eyes. Unfortunately. How many times had she wished she’d inherited the darker features of her mother’s family rather than having any resemblance to her father?
“I was talking to myself.” Isabelle willed the tall man with his army emblazoned T-shirt, slightly wavy brown hair that was much too long for him to be active military, and laughing hazel eyes out of her head.
Who was he? She’d lived in Pine Hill all her life, minus college and a year where she’d worked for an accounting firm in Nashville. Mr. Muscled Up Paper Snatcher wasn’t from Pine Hill. Men who looked like him stood out as surely as if they had a hunk neon sign flashing over their head. Ha, men like him would stand out in Times Square, no sign needed. Santa might have him on the naughty list, but he topped the nice looks list.
“Don’t mind me.” She hugged the box to her chest. “Being in these halls where I spent my teenaged years makes me feel over-the-hill.” The tiled floors and painted walls looked exactly as they had when Isabelle had been preparing for her own senior year events.
Even the various handmade poster boards advertising upcoming Christmas events had a familiar feel. How had more than a decade passed since she’d graduated from this very school? Her thirtieth birthday loomed. That wasn’t old, but she sure was nothing like the youthful, idealistic teen smiling at her, either. Then again, had she ever been like that?
The teen gave her an odd look. “You’re not old, Izzy. You’re young and beautiful, not to mention the smartest person I know. I’m sure glad you’re helping with my Christmas choir concert. Can you believe it’s my last one? I can’t imagine not being in Mr. Reeves’s music classes or in this building when so much of my life centers here.”
Exactly. Isabelle wouldn’t point out that life wouldn’t slow down but would continue rushing by, and soon enough it would be Annabelle musing about past glory days. Not that Isabelle expected Annabelle to be like her. No doubt, her cousin would be swept off her feet, just as Sophie had been two years ago by firefighter Cole Aaron. Isabelle was much too practical to get swept away. She could walk just fine all by herself. The annoying army shirt guy popped back into her mind. Was his shirt why he’d instantly set her on edge?
“I love helping with anything you need.” She smiled at the teen over the box she held as they stepped into the music room. “So does Sophie. We adore you.”
“There you are!” The early-thirties choir director crossed the instrument-and-teen-filled room. Pushing his wireframe glasses up the bridge of his nose, his gaze met Isabelle’s. “We’re excited about the concert Christmas sashes you made. They’re going to add a fun pop of color.”
“We’re grateful we were able to help.” Handing the box over, Isabelle smiled.
Trevor Reeves had been with the school a couple of years and had done wonderful things, expanding the band and choir programs. Friendly, he always made a point to say hi at church or social gatherings. She’d gotten the impression he’d liked Sophie, but that interest had been useless as her sister was head over heels for her fiancé.
“I can’t believe you finished them so quickly.” He pulled out a few of the red and green sashes with their festive sequins. “They’re amazing. Not that I expected anything less, but you and Sophie shouldn’t have pushed yourselves.”
“It wasn’t a problem.” As busy as they were with the upcoming holidays and Sophie’s wedding, Isabelle had enjoyed staying late with her sister and working on the project. The one-on-one time they’d always had an abundance of had become a scarcity. “We’re getting things done early to try to keep Sophie as stress-free as possible leading up to her wedding.”
“Does Sophie get stressed?” Trevor laughed. “I’ve never seen her that she wasn’t bubbling over with sunshine.”
Exactly. Isabelle worked hard to make sure her sister stayed that way. Long ago, she’d vowed to protect Sophie from things that stole her happiness. What was a little pre-wedding stress if it kept Sophie smiling? Wasn’t that Isabelle’s job as big sister and maid of honor? To make sure her big day went perfectly?
“You’re a bit of sunshine, too.” Trevor smiled, then shot an embarrassed glance toward Annabelle.
His face pinkening, he unnecessarily pushed his glasses upward again. Had he forgotten the teen was there? Isabelle fought snorting. Compared to Sophie, she was a cloudy day.
Uncomfortable that her grinning cousin was glancing back and forth between her and the music teacher, Isabelle cleared her throat. “Check these and if you need more, let Annabelle know.” There, she’d made it clear that he didn’t have to contact her directly, just in case he’d decided since Sophie wasn’t available, she’d make do. “We want her senior year Christmas concert to be perfect. Not only is she family, but she’s also the quilt shop’s star part-time employee.”
Annabelle leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Izzy. You and Sophie are the best. I’ll see you at The Threaded Needle after school.”
“Maybe I could stop by and—”
“Oh, look at the time,” Isabelle interrupted the still blushing teacher, glancing pointedly at her watch.
No need to encourage him when she had no time for such nonsense. Other than with Greg during the time she’d lived in Nashville, she never had. It didn’t bother her. She had a wedding to plan, a quilt shop to run, and she’d never give a man a chance to do to her what her father had done to her mother.
“How does a tiny hole-in-the-wall town have such good food?” Zach took another bite of his Pine Hill burger. Although he’d always been fine with eating whatever, he enjoyed good food. Lou’s topped some of the finest he’d ever sampled.
“Quality basic ingredients and a talented cook.” Across the booth, Bodie grinned. “You should stick around to have some of Lou’s chili that he serves at the annual Christmas Festival. My mouth waters just thinking about it.”
“I’ll be long gone before Christmas festivals.” Or maybe not, since even the diner already had silver tinsel garland and a two-foot artificial tree at the cash register counter. Advertisements for local Christmas activities were taped along the front and a Triple B Ranch Toy Drive drop-off bin was prominently displayed. A bit early to be so holidayed up, but whatever tinseled up this small town’s Christmas float.
“This forced vacation is ridiculous.” Zach snorted his disgust at being shackled by his current restrictions. After his injuries, he’d been in a low, dark place and climbing out of that despair had taken a while, but he had overcome. “My accident was almost two years ago. That I blacked out two weeks ago had to do with my not eating while undercover, not my head injuries. Lukas should know that.”
Bodie looked skeptical. “You think?”
“I’m fine.” The intense throb that sometimes hit was killer, but what were a few lingering headaches when compared to what many of his comrades dealt with? What they’d sacrificed? Zach was one of the lucky ones.
“The building you were in exploded. You were unconscious for weeks, had surgery after surgery removing shrapnel, including the piece that paralyzed your right arm and hand.” Bodie unnecessarily reminded. “The moment you left the rehab facility, you dived into working for iSecure and have pushed nonstop. A few weeks’ vacation isn’t going to hurt you.”
Zach’s hopefully last surgery scar burned his upper back just below his T-shirt’s collar.
Willing it to stop, he stuck the last of his burger into his mouth, but what had tasted delicious a minute before now had to be forcibly swallowed with a gulp of water. “Is that how you felt after your medical leave when your hip was busted up? That a few weeks of R and R wasn’t a bad thing?”
“Point taken.” Bodie’s gaze didn’t waver from Zach’s. “But that time off ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Those few weeks between his pal’s discharge from the rehab facility in DC, the same one Zach had been at less than a year later, and his starting work for iSecure had led Bodie to Pine Hill to thank a woman for a patriotic quilt that had been a catalyst to his turnaround.
“I’m happy you found where you belong in the civilian world, but the thought of staying in one place makes me feel as if my air supply is being cut off. It’s why I couldn’t just sit in DC for the next month. I need to get back to what I do best—making a difference.”
Zach had been good at his job. The best. But not quite good enough. Not that he remembered much about that horrific day. Could he have prevented their mission from being compromised? Have prevented unnecessary loss? If so, could he live with himself that some of those sacrificed last breaths had been his fault? Was that why no amount of therapy had been able to recover whatever his brain had locked away? He curled his fingers into his palms, his nails digging into the callused flesh. Most of the feeling had come back months ago, and after the numbness, he welcomed the physical discomfort.
Bodie’s brow arched. “That wasn’t what you were doing last night on Sarah’s computer? Making a difference?”
“More like your wife had me working the bugs out of her embroidery program.” Sarah’s computer was a dinosaur. He’d half expected to hear a dial-up noise when he’d turned on the beast. Zach wouldn’t be bypassing any major security walls with that snail system. “You can thank me for the extra time she’ll have to watch Jeannie, freeing you up from babysitting duty.”
“Thanks for helping Sarah, but watching Jeannie is a privilege, not a duty.”
Zach eyed his friend. “It’s hard for me to reconcile that the tough soldier I served with now gets up in the middle of the night to change diapers.”
Bodie’s grin said he wouldn’t trade doing so for the world. “Best job I ever had.”
Zach wrinkled his nose. “Diaper duty?”
“Dad duty,” Bodie corrected.
The sincerity on his friend’s face had Zach shaking his head. Bodie had been one of the best soldiers Zach had ever served with, which was likely why they’d become such good friends during their deployment together. To see the soldier so domesticated boggled the mind, but Bodie appeared happy playing house and chasing down lead-footed grannies in his sheriff’s deputy SUV. Then again, the IED explosion that had left Bodie hospitalized for months provided a powerful impetus. Zach knew that power, knew how it could bend a man into anything it chose, sometimes dragging one’s mind to the pits of hell.
“Better you than me.” Zach picked at the grilled vegetables on his plate. “Not that I know much about babies, but I’ll admit yours is cute when she smiles.”
“Which she does a lot around you.” Bodie’s tone implied that he didn’t understand why.
Zach chuckled. “Kid has good taste, even at five months.”
“Or is just too young to know better than to be charmed by the likes of you,” Bodie countered. “The ladies always did fall for you. Even my wife is taken in, especially because you’re interested in her quilting.”
How a quilt could change his pal’s life had been a ray of light when Zach had been in a dark place and given him something to focus on during his therapy. Quilting had become his therapy.
“Sarah showed me the Quilts of Valor quilt she’s working on.” The red, white, and blue quilt pieces had called to him, and he’d worked with her for several hours the previous night. “That such a work of art will welcome our brothers and sisters home”—Zach dragged in a deep breath—“well, that’s an awesome thing.”
Understanding shone in Bodie’s eyes. “Gets you in the feels, doesn’t it?”
The diner door opened, and a new customer bell chimed as something else—someone else—who got Zach in the feels walked in. Adrenaline surged. Blondie stepped up to the counter, brushed a strand of stick-straight hair behind her ear, then spoke to the cashier.
Turning to see who he looked at, Bodie snorted. “You may as well get that look off your face. You’d have better luck convincing Lukas that you don’t need a break than you do of wooing Isabelle Davis.”
“You know her?” Isabelle Davis.
Taking another drink, Zach let her name settle into his mind, rolling it around, liking it. Isabelle fit. Belle meant beautiful and that she was, especially when her full lips curved upward in a smile. Not that she’d smiled at him, but given time, she would. Blondie might have been all blustery but there had been something more in her gaze, too. Daggers, he recalled, suppressing a chuckle. If she freely smiled at him, it would be because he’d gotten trampled by the reindeer he’d met earlier at Harvey Farm.
“There aren’t many folks around here I don’t know. Three years and the whole town thinks we’re family.” Bodie chuckled. “Pine Hill is a friendly place.”
Zach’s gaze didn’t leave where Isabelle chatted with the cashier. “I wouldn’t mind being friends with her.”
“I don’t think even you can make that happen, but you’ll get your chance soon enough. She and Sarah go to church together and Isabelle attends most of our get-togethers at Hamilton House.” The massive, renovated old Victorian had belonged to Sarah’s late aunt and was now a bed-and-breakfast. “But I wouldn’t mention that you’re staying in our Beds for Vets suite, and I’d lose the army shirt.”
“Why’s that?” Why would it matter to Blondie what he wore or which room he stayed in while visiting his friend?
She glanced at her watch as the cashier took off toward the kitchen.
“Isabelle is polite, but she isn’t a fan of anything to do with the likes of you and me.” Bodie dabbed a condensation ring on the table with his napkin. “Sarah says it’s to do with her military dad leaving when she and her sister were little kids.”
Curious as to what leaving entailed, Zach’s gaze met his friend’s. “That turned her against everything military?”
Dropping his crumbled napkin to the tabletop, Bodie shrugged. “Seems so.”
“Also seems unfair.”
“You and I learned long ago that life isn’t fair but is more about making the best with what opportunities you’re given.”
“Good point.” Zach’s focus returned to where Isabelle tapped her foot with impatience while she waited for her to-go order. “Excuse me a minute.”
“Because?” Bodie asked, although his friend knew good and well where Zach was headed as he slid his six-foot-three frame out of the booth.
“I’m making the best of a given opportunity.”
Standing at the cashier counter just inside Lou’s Diner, Isabelle toyed with a stray piece of silver tinsel that had come loose from Lou’s countertop tree. That the restaurant was running behind with her order fit the way her day had gone thus far. She needed to get back to The Threaded Needle. Sophie’s new Christmas quilt kits needed uploading onto their website, plus half a dozen other things required attention before Aunt Claudia and her friends arrived at closing. The older ladies were bringing Sophie’s wedding dress. Or what would be her wedding dress once finished. The Butterflies, as the group of her aunt’s lifelong friends called themselves, had insisted upon making the gown as their wedding gift. Having Sophie’s wedding attire ready was a big item Isabelle would like to mark off her wedding checklist. At least, they’d finally see what the women had come up with from Sophie’s descriptions. Hopefully, they’d not made any too over-the-top changes, but the Butterflies weren’t known for being conventional.
“Look what the wind blew in,” an amused male voice drawled from behind her, sending shivers over Isabelle’s skin.
Without looking, she knew it was Annoyance Himself.
His smooth baritone rolled out like the finest silk and his amusement was just as irritating as it had been on the square. “Are you following me, Blondie?”
Her cheeks burned and her stomach gurgled loud enough he’d likely heard. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away. Hoping to distract herself from the fact that he stood right behind her, she looked for more stray tinsel, didn’t see any, so read Lou’s joke of the day.
What do you call a snowman with a six-pack?
Yeah, that wasn’t helping because she’d bet her Christmas morning goodies that Prince Annoying was sporting a six-pack under his army T-shirt.
The abdominal snowman.
“Can’t say I blame you for making sure our paths crossed,” he continued in that I’m hot and we both know it drawl.
Crumbled candy canes and threadbare stockings! He wasn’t going to go away, not without torturing her first. Face tightly pinched, she turned, hoping he accurately read how much she wished he’d disappear. Maybe the abdominal snowman could gobble him up so she could get her lunch in peace and forget he existed. Her gaze collided with broad shoulders that had her gulping. There was a toughness about him that said anything trying to gobble him up would be in for a run for their money and would lose.
“I recall mentioning not to bother saying hello if our paths did cross again.”
Disappointment hit that she hadn’t imagined how good-looking he was. Or how tall. He towered over her five foot four inches. And if there was ever a competition for an abdominal snowman, he’d win. Scolding herself for noticing how his T-shirt clung to his muscles, she upped her glare game. Maybe he’d take the hint and leave.
“Yep.” His lips twitched, almost as if he knew he made her insides jitter like a shaken snow globe. “That’s why I didn’t say hello.”
Isabelle looked upward at Lou’s tiled ceiling, counted to six, and winced when she couldn’t think of the next number to save her life. Not good for someone with an accounting degree.
“Oops, sorry. I didn’t realize that I should have been more specific. I meant for you not to say anything at all,” she clarified.
“Not say anything and let all your effort in following me be wasted? Tsk. Tsk.” His eyes twinkled brighter than Lou’s shiny Christmas tree lights. “I’d hate to disappoint you that way.”
“Seeing you again is disappointing.” Exhilarating, her inner voice corrected.
Why, oh, why, did being near him make breathing difficult? It was as if he sucked up all the oxygen and what air was left made her head spin.
“Disappointing?” He gave an exaggerated fake sigh. “I thought you were happy to see me.”
“Pfft. Wrong again.” Annoyed was what she was.
At him because he’d occupied all her thoughts since their windy encounter. But even more so, at herself, because excitement surged at the way merriment danced in his eyes when they looked in hers. Approval shone in their hazel depths, as if he enjoyed their verbal sparring and that she had no qualms in standing up to him. Not only did he not mind; he seemed to appreciate that she wasn’t falling at his boots.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t like me.” He sounded as if he didn’t believe anyone capable of such a feat. His ego alone could power Santa’s sleigh, no reindeer needed.
“Ahh, you finally got something right.” She kept her eyes narrowed, possibly to block out some of his maleness.
Seriously, Santa should package up his pheromones and spread the overabundance on Christmas morning. He had more than enough to spare.
“Given long enough, it was bound to happen.” Grinning, he added, “Name’s Zach, by the way. Zach Dawson.”
Zach. Strong and to the point, like him.
“That matters to me how?” Harsh, but she wasn’t budging an inch to his swagger and smiles. Her self-preservation skills had been finely honed years ago and he’d already dinged them enough for one day.
“You know you were wondering.” His teasing was doubly worse in that he was right.
She was curious as to who he was and why he was in Pine Hill. Perhaps he consulted with one of the factories in their industrial park or had been hired to do something in preparation for the On-the-Square Christmas Festival in a few weeks. They always had a few out-of-town vendors. If he could package up his smile, he’d have a best seller.
“What your name is doesn’t matter to me. I couldn’t care less if—”
“Hey, Blondie?” he interrupted, causing her to pause. “You’re protesting too much.”
Irritated that he was right about that, too, she tapped her boot against the floor. “Don’t call me that.”
“What would you prefer for me to call you?” The corner of his mouth curved upward, digging a dimple into his cheek that had probably been adorable when he’d been young. It’s adorable now, the annoying voice in her head pointed out. Adorable seemed the wrong adjective to use when describing someone so … so … masculine.
“That’s the point. I don’t want you to call me,” she managed.
The gold flecks in his eyes flickered as if warm flames, inviting her to relax and cozy up. “Fair enough. If that’s what you want, I won’t call.”
“Good. Don’t.” Had she really just crossed her arms?
Someone watching would think she was throwing a temper tantrum. Not even as a child had she done that. Just ask her mother. Darlene would be the first to say that Isabelle had always been responsible, a rule follower, and never caused a bit of trouble.
Zach’s irritating, knowing smile made Isabelle want to cause so much trouble Santa would permanently strike her name off the nice list.
“But if you change your mind—” The twitch of his lips drew her gaze.
She’d never really thought about mouths having genders, but Zach’s was all male. Strong, full, and … annoying.
“I won’t,” she assured, relieved as Bessie returned, bag in hand. “Oh, look, there’s my order.” She gave him a dismissive, squinty smile. “I can’t say it’s been pleasant, but maybe my luck will change, and seeing you won’t happen again. A girl can hope.”
Because being around Zach made her painfully aware of just how gorgeous he was. Seriously, a manly mouth? The wind must have carried a little Christmas crazy that morning as she couldn’t think of another reason for why she’d had to take another peek at those lips before rushing out of Lou’s with her food and on-fire cheeks.
Zach’s laughter followed her from the diner, mocking her flight. Once inside her car, she sank back into her seat and took a big breath, as if she’d been fleeing for her life.
Maybe she had. From the abdominal snowman.
Zach, the abdominal snowman.
She burst into laughter, not sure what she found so funny, or even if she found anything funny, but perhaps she laughed from stress and a bit of hysteria.
That had to be it. Dependable, always rational, Isabelle Davis was now nuttier than Ruby Jenkins’s award-winning fruitcake.
End of Excerpt
