7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
S he couldn’t sit still.
Her thoughts were racing. Where was Odie?
Later that evening after going to her room to get some distance from the handsome sheriff, Belle made more phone calls. She wasn’t able to reach Merry Kringle, which she found odd.
She was hoping someone would provide her with another clue, but no one heard or saw anything. Every person she spoke to promised to call her if they thought of anything that would help find Odie.
Belle headed back downstairs. Parker was sitting on the couch working on his laptop. He glanced up. For a moment, their gazes connected, and her heartbeat sped up. She dismissed her reaction to him. She told herself that she was imagining it. There was no way he was attracted to her.
As though he, too, felt the awkwardness of the moment, he glanced away. “I like your tree.”
She could have merely said thank you and continued on her way, but he was going above and beyond to help her, so she decided it was only right for her to make an effort too.
She stepped closer to the unlit Christmas tree.
It just didn’t feel right to turn on the lights when Odie was…
Well, when he could be anywhere. But he had a fondness for the Christmas tree and would lie near it a lot of the time.
“It’s a special tree to me.” After the words crossed her lips, Belle regretted them. She hadn’t intended to get too personal with him, but it was too late to take the words back now.
“The ornaments look unique.”
“They are.” She couldn’t really convey its specialness without plugging in the twinkle lights.
She moved to the tree where she bent over to put the plug into the outlet.
When the white lights came on, she straightened.
“My great-grandmother started collecting ornaments. The pink and blue ones were hers.” And then Belle pointed to a couple of crocheted angel ornaments.
“Once upon a time they were white, but they’ve aged into more of an antique white.
“So the tree is like a history of your family?” he asked.
“I never thought of it that way, but yes.” She turned her attention back to the tree. She liked the way he’d described it. “The beaded ornaments were made by my grandmother.”
The colorful beads were in the shapes of bells, Christmas trees, snowmen, and many other shapes. Each one picked up the light and made the tree practically glow.
“And what about the white ones with the painted designs?” Parker continued to stare at the tree.
No one had ever taken such an interest in her Christmas tree. His genuine curiosity touched a spot deep within her. She chose not to give that too much thought.
She stepped forward and picked up one of them. She held it in her palm. “These were hand-painted by my mother.”
He leaned in closer for a better look. “Your mother was very talented.”
After he finished looking at it, Belle held it in front of her face for a better look. He was right. Her mother had taken the time to paint the finest details. It was what made them stand out.
After Belle placed the ornament back on the tree, she turned to him. When she found him staring at her, her heart skipped a beat. She told herself to keep it together and not get lost in his chocolate-brown eyes.
She swallowed hard, hoping when she spoke her voice sounded normal. “Can I get you anything?”
His gaze moved to the couch and then back to her. “I’m good.”
Without another word, she headed for the kitchen.
After washing her hands, she moved to the fridge and withdrew eggs and cream cheese.
Next, she grabbed her largest mixing bowl.
She continued gathering everything she would need to make cookies.
She’d made them so often she had the ingredients memorized, but she didn’t know the exact amount of each.
She opened a drawer and withdrew her mother’s handwritten recipe card.
It was times like these when she really missed her mother. She had loved to bake, and she’d taken time to teach Belle to bake when she was still a little girl. They were some of Belle’s fondest memories.
She turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin. There in the doorway stood all six-plus feet of Parker staring at her. She pressed a hand to her pounding chest.
“I didn’t hear you enter.” She lowered her hand and moved to the kitchen island. “That stealthy maneuverer must come in handy with you being the sheriff and all.”
A half smile came over his handsome face. “It does. But I hadn’t intended to scare you. I heard a noise and wondered what you were up to.”
“Oh. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” She bent over and retrieved the stand mixer from the cabinet.
“You didn’t. What are you doing?” He propped himself against the door jamb.
She wondered how honest she should be with him. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything. But as he continued to stare at her with an inquisitive look on his face, she sighed. “When something is bothering me, I either clean or bake.”
His gaze moved across the items on the island. “I take it you’re going with the baking. What are you making?”
“Christmas cookies. There’s a party at the Kringles’ house tomorrow night.” She gestured to the festive invitation with red and green glitter hanging on the front of her fridge. “I agreed to bring stuff for the cookie table.”
He nodded. “I heard it’s always a big party.”
They invited most of the townspeople. It was definitely the height of the holiday season. “You sound like you’ve never been to one of their parties.”
“I haven’t.” He said it as a matter-of-fact.
No wonder she couldn’t remember ever seeing him there. “I take it you don’t like parties.”
He shrugged. “Just never had a reason to go.”
“Who needs a reason to go to a party? They’re just for fun.” She made sure to get a new dress each year just for this particular party. She glanced across at him. “What do you do for fun?”
“You mean besides ticket people?” When she gaped at him, he smiled. Not just one of his half-smiles. No. This was a big smile that made his big brown eyes twinkle. “I’m just joking.”
“Not funny. Not funny at all.” But she did like the way his smile smoothed his frown lines and made him look years younger.
In fact, when he smiled, he was downright gorgeous. The thought made the breath catch in her lungs. What was she doing having thoughts like that about Parker? He was not her type at all. He was Mr. By-The-Book, and she was more live and let live.
However, now she was curious to know more about him. “Seriously, what do you do for fun?”
He shrugged. “I watch football.”
Hey, she watched football too. Wait. Did that mean they had something in common?
She jerked her thoughts back to the conversation. “Do you go to the games? And wear face paint?”
Parker rolled his eyes. “No. I sit at home on my couch and watch the game.”
“Alone?”
He once more shrugged. “Most of the time.”
She was starting to see what was the matter with him. “You need to get a life.”
He frowned at her. “I do have a life.”
“I mean a social life.”
“I interact every day with the public. When I’m off-duty, I like some quiet time.”
How could she argue with that? “Do you have any pets? Maybe a cat? Or a dog?” And then to lighten the conversation, she asked, “How about a little pot-bellied pig?”
“A pig?” He let out a laugh. “No, I don’t have a pet pig or any other pets.”
As soon as he laughed, a small smile pulled at her own lips. Just as quickly, she felt guilty for enjoying herself while Odie was missing. Maybe this conversation wasn’t the best idea. She turned her attention back to baking.
While she worked, she expected Parker to go back to working on his laptop. Instead, he pulled out a stool at the island and sat down. “What can I do?”
His question caught her off guard. “What do you mean?”
“With the baking. I can help.” He seemed perfectly serious.
She hadn’t baked with anyone since her mother died. The thought brought a pang of grief to her heart. She thought of turning him down, but he’d turned the recipe card around and was reading it.
She looked at the mixing bowl and tried to remember what came next. And then she remembered. “You can add the vanilla.”
He picked up the little bottle of flavoring. “How much?”
“Two teaspoons.”
He looked around. “Where’s the measuring spoon?”
“I don’t use one. Just guesstimate it.”
“What?” He sent her a confused look.
“You know, just pour a little like you would to fill a measuring spoon and then repeat it.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
She pressed a hand to her hip. “Why not?”
“Because it won’t be the right amount.”
“It’ll be close.”
“But it won’t be exact. Can you hand me a measuring spoon?” He held out a hand.
She thought of continuing the argument but realized there was no point. This was just one more example of why they’d never be any more than…what? Friends?
As she added ingredients to the mixing bowl, she tried to ignore him, but instead, she was aware of every little move he made.
His nearness and undivided attention had her unable to recall the recipe from memory, so instead, she had to follow the recipe card step by step.
Thankfully, her mother was detailed, so Belle just had to read and do what the recipe instructed.
When at last the cookie dough formed a smooth ball, she flattened it into a round disc. She wrapped it in plastic wrap before placing it in the freezer for a few minutes.
When she turned around, she saw him studying his phone. “Anything new about Odie?”
He glanced up. His gaze met hers, but he seemed lost in thought. It took him a moment before he said, “Uh. No. Nothing. I’m sorry.”