Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
After work, Fiona rushed to the bakery, eager to see Rhett.
She pushed through the door, immediately scanning for her cowboy, but he was nowhere in sight.
Eliza stood at the front counter, her hair pinned in a messy bun, a grin on her face, Santa studs nestled in her ears as she closed out the register.
Um, okay. Eliza was smiling. Positive sign. Relief rolled over her.
“He’s in back with Wyatt.” Eliza wiped her hands on a candy cane print apron. “Rhett was a lot of help today, and I know Wyatt was glad for the company.”
“Thank you for looking after him.”
“Hey, I get it. Orienting someone from 1878 into modern life takes a village.”
“I’m grateful. You had to do it from scratch.”
“Glad my pain is your gain.” Eliza gave a soft chuckle.
Wyatt came from the bakery kitchen into the storefront, Rhett on his heels.
Fiona met Rhett’s gaze, and he broke into a broad grin.
“Afternoon, Miss Fi.” He tipped his hat.
“Hey, Rhett.” She raised a palm. Why did she feel sixteen and shy again?
He wore dark jeans and a red flannel shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to reveal his muscular forearms. The clothes fit too well. He didn’t appear like a man lost in time anymore, just a guy who somehow belonged wherever he stood.
“I borrowed Wyatt’s clothes until I could get my own.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
They stood beaming at each other like they didn’t have any sense, which perhaps they didn’t.
“He’s a fast learner,” Wyatt said. “Much faster than I was.”
“Come on, now.” Eliza wrapped an arm around Wyatt’s face. “You didn’t have anyone to show you the ropes.”
Wyatt peered into her eyes. “I had you.”
Aww, they were so sweet, Fiona’s teeth ached.
“Ready to go?” she asked Rhett.
“Reckon I am.”
They said their goodbyes. Rhett put on a navy blue down parka Wyatt had given him and he carried a flour sack with this old clothes in it. Jamie had occupational therapy after school on Thursdays, so they had an hour and a half to kill before he was ready for pickup.
“Want stow your things in the car and then walk around the square so you can see how much has changed in a hundred and forty-seven years? Lots of holiday stuff going on.”
“I reckon.”
She steered toward her car in the parking, put his things in the trunk, then headed back to the square.
Evergreen Springs went overboard, as usual. White bulbs spiraled up every lamppost, oversized red bows perched in the centers. Garlands draped storefronts in evergreen swags. The gazebo glowed, strings of light tracing every railing.
“What’s your impression of 2025 now that you were out in the world a bit?” Fiona tilted her head to study his face.
He took a moment. “World moves faster than a green horse.”
“True. I feel bowled over sometimes myself.”
He ran a hand over his mouth. “Folks talk over one another, like they’re scared of quiet.”
“It is a noisy world.”
“Back home, silence meant you were listening. Here, it feels like quiet makes people nervous.”
She smiled. “You’re not wrong.”
He glanced at her. “Wyatt says I’ll adapt, but it’s a strange thing.”
They turned the corner and entered the square.
Strings of white bulbs climbed every lamppost, red bows bright against the snow. Garlands draped across storefronts, the gazebo shining like a jewel in the center of it all.
Rhett slowed. She watched his face shift as he took it in. The lights, the carolers, the laughing families. His expression turned tender, as if he’d just shaken a Christmas snow globe.
At the corner, a vendor tended chestnuts roasting over coals that glowed orange, shells cracking with each turn of his long-handled pan.
She touched his forearm. “Oh, look, they have a kiosk with roasted chestnuts. My favorite. I get them every year.”
“Afternoon, folks,” the vendor greeted them. “Two cones?”
“Yes, please.” Fiona reached into her bag for her wallet. “And two cups of hot apple cider.”
Rhett held out a twenty-dollar bill. “I’ve got it.”
She glanced up at him. “You have money?”
“Wyatt paid me for helping out at the bakery.”
“Wyatt McCready?” A grin split the vendor’s face.
“Yessir.” Rhett nodded. “Wyatt and I have been friends for a right long spell.”
The man held up both palms. “No charge.”
Rhett shook his head. “No, sir. I don’t accept charity.”
“It’s no charity.” The man motioned for Rhett to put his money away. “Rhett baked biscuits for our church bake sale and wouldn’t take a dime in payment. This is my way of starting to pay him back. Please, the chestnuts are on me.”
“All right then.” Rhett touched the brim of his Stetson. “Thank you kindly.”
They took their refreshments and continued on around the square, sipping cider.
She took a chestnut from the cone, cracked the shell between her fingers, and blew on the tender meat inside. The steam carried a rich smokiness. She bit into it, and along with the taste came memories of coming to the Christmas street fair with her family.
Rhett cracked one of his own and popped it in his mouth. His eyebrows rose. “Tasty.”
The traveling carolers swelled behind them, voices lifting into the gathering dusk. This time of year, it got dark early. They’d be picking Jamie up in the dark.
A couple brushed past, arms linked, the woman’s head tipped onto the man’s shoulder, both of them laughing over a shared joke.
A stab of envy went through her. She wished she had that kind of romantic closeness with someone. Lucky. Those people who’d found each other.
This close to Christmas, shoppers and winter tourists packed the square. The carolers in Christmas scarves lifted their songbooks higher. Children wove between adults, shrieking with laughter. Someone’s Yorkie in a baby carriage barked twice.
She kept her cone balanced in one hand, cider in the other, weaving through the press of bodies with Rhett beside her.
His stride remained unhurried, though his eyes tracked everything—the garlands strung between shops, the lampposts wrapped in red velvet ribbon, the boy perched high on his father’s shoulders with a candy cane swinging.
People’s gazes flicked to him. Curious. Appraising. Approving. Women’s heads turned. Men stared.
“Fiona!” Mrs. Yancy appeared out of the crowd, her pom-pom hat cocked askew, cheeks pink. “There you are. I was looking for Jamie—wanted to give him a candy cane.”
“He’s still in school. Thursdays he has occupational therapy.”
The older woman’s eyes shifted to Rhett, swept over his strong jaw and broad shoulders. He dipped his chin.
Mrs. Yancy’s smile curved. “Well now. Handsome fellow. Good for you, dear.”
“I—”
But Mrs. Yancy was already disappearing back into the throng.
“She seems sweet,” he said.
“Just you watch. By morning, it’ll be all over town I’ve got a new boyfriend.”
He seemed puzzled. “She thinks we’re courtin’.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Huh. Imagine that.”
They walked on, window shopping as they went. They finished their refreshments and she show him where they tossed their cups and cones in the trash receptacle. Rhett’s hand hovered near her back, protective without touching.
A car rolled past the curb too close, tires splashing through slush. The spray caught her boots, icy water soaking through her pants. She gasped and stumbled.
Rhett caught her arm, pulled her upright, then took her hand. His palm reassured her, and when he interlaced their fingers, she did not withdraw.
Holding hands with him felt good.
Right.
The world blurred, the crowd, the music, the traffic noise, all of it dimming beneath that single point of contact. Her hand in his.
She glanced up. His gaze stayed on her.
“How are you?” he asked.
She nodded. “Fine.”
“You sure?”
“Uh-huh.”
For a heartbeat too long, neither moved. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. That small, absentminded motion sent warmth flooding her chest.
She should’ve stepped back.
She didn’t.
The carolers shifted into “Silent Night.” The notes floated through the square, pure and slow.
His hand around hers, sure as a promise she wasn’t brave enough to believe.
She wanted him. Not the magic, not the miracle.
Him.
The thought broke her. She didn’t care about tomorrow. She just wanted this breath, this night, this man beside her.
And for a single mom with a special needs child, that was a dangerous thing.
* * *
Gosh dang noise.
Louder than any cattle auction Rhett ever heard. Music, laughter, shouts bouncing off the snow and brick until the whole town felt alive and too much.
Fiona held tight to his hand, the one steady thing in a wild world.
They wandered through the crowd, heading toward her car. People called her name and waved. She smiled at all of them and stopped to speak to a few.
When he first met her, he thought she carried the weight of the world. Tonight, she seemed lighter.
Strings of white lights hung from every pole, blinking like they couldn’t agree on a rhythm. The glare hit the snow and bounced back into his eyes. He didn’t much like it. He preferred seeing where dark ended and sky began.
Still, she was happy, so he could stand it a while longer.
“This event gets bigger every year. More lights, more booths, more everything.”
He nodded. “Town seems proud of itself.”
“We are.”
“Should we bring Jamie?”
She pulled her bottom lip up between her teeth. “I don’t know. He tends to get overstimulated in crowds.”
Boy howdy, did he empathize.
“He would like it, but if he had a meltdown…”
“Like he did the day I met you.”
“Yes.” She pushed a lock of fallen hair off her face with her glove.
“Does that happen often?”
“Not so much anymore, but my parents leaving threw him for a loop.”
“Understandable.”
They passed a tent selling ornaments. Wind knifed down the street, sharp enough to cut through his borrowed flannel. He tucked Fiona’s hand under his arm to help keep her warm. She didn’t pull away. He suppressed a smile.
“Crowd makes you twitchy too, huh?” she said.
He gave a half shrug. “Ain’t my natural habitat. Guess me and Jamie got something in common.”
“Nothing wrong with being different.”
“No, there’s not.” His whole life he felt out of step with the world around him. Too solemn for most people’s taste.
A brass band started near the courthouse steps, horns blaring, drums thudding offbeat. Fiona tilted her head, enjoying the noise. He was watching her when the kid moved in.
Small frame. Hood pulled down over his forehead. Shoulders tight like a stray dog about to bolt.
“Stay close,” he said and tugged her nearer.
“What?”
The boy brushed Fiona’s arm, and her bag vanished.
“What the—” She grabbed reflectively.
Rhett moved before she finished gasping. The thief cut through the crowd, ducking under an arch strung with lights. Rhett followed, closing the gap. The kid slipped once, caught himself, and Rhett reached him, grabbed the back of his coat, and jerked him off balance. They went down hard.
“Let me go!” The boy twisted in his grip.
“Hand it over,” Rhett said.
The kid tossed her bag toward him, hopped up, and ran away.
Rhett stooped, picked up the bag, and brushed away slush. He straightened.
Fiona stood there looking at him as if he’d just saved her life. “Oh, thank heavens you got it back. My credit cards were in there. Jamie’s schedule and my planner too. What a mess that would have been, canceling my cards at Christmas time.”
He wasn’t sure what all that meant, but he let it wash over him. “You okay?”
“I think so.” She held out a hand.
He passed the bag over.
She exhaled, half a laugh, half a shudder. “You didn’t even think. You just acted.”
“I did think. I saw him and knew he was up to something, and I decided fast.”
“My hero,” she said, batted her eyelashes, and clasped her hands under her chin.
“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds as if you’re funnin’ me.”
He stared at her a beat too long. The band switched to something slower, the carolers’ voices rising in harmony. All around them, people laughed, ate, and shopped. The world moved, but he wasn’t ready to.
“You’re trembling,” he said.
“I’m fine, just startled.”
“You sure?”
“I am now because you’re here.” She met his gaze, saying it like she meant every word.
The crowd noise faded. Snow fell in lazy flakes, catching in her hair. He wanted to brush it away, but he didn’t.
He wanted to kiss her something fierce, and she was looking at him as if she wanted that too. He lowered his head.
She tilted her chin up.
He moistened his lips.
She let her eyelashes flutter closed. A sign she wanted him to kiss her.
Kiss her.
Rhett leaned in closer, studying her beautiful face. She went up on her toes. Oh, yes indeed, she wanted a kiss.
But things were too complicated. Time was too huge of a gulf. He straightened.
The courthouse bell struck four.
She jumped, and her eyes flew open, looking at once alarmed and disappointed. “Jamie. We’ve got to go. His therapy is over at four-thirty. I don’t keep him waiting.”
“Right.”
They reached her car. “You’re something, you know that?”
He glanced down at her. “Still figuring out what, huh?”
A laugh escaped her. “And you’ve got a wry sense of humor.”
“Is that a good thing?”
Her eyes drilled into his. “It’s the best.”