Chapter 20
Mark put on the green shirt, arrived at Winter Wishes five minutes early, and parked along the curb beneath a lamppost wrapped in garland.
The shop glowed against the December evening, the front windows spilling warm gold light onto the sidewalk.
The western-themed tree stood in one window, its tiny boots and silver stars reflecting in the glass.
The gift-wrap station was visible farther back, complete with the mistletoe he had hung and nearly regretted ever touching.
Or maybe regretted not using properly.
Mark dragged a hand over his jaw, muttered something about losing his mind, and climbed out of the truck.
The bell over the shop door jingled when he stepped inside. Winter Wishes smelled like cinnamon, cedar, and sugar cookies.
An older woman who must be Aunt Eleanor stood behind the counter with a mug in one hand, wearing a navy dress and a silver necklace with a snowflake charm.
She looked him over with calm, sharp interest, the way a woman might examine a horse before deciding if it could be trusted with someone she loved.
“You must be Mark,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.” He removed his hat because there were some instincts a man did not ignore. “Mark Clemons.”
“Eleanor Whitaker.” She crossed the shop and held out her hand. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”
Mark shook her hand carefully. “I’m not sure whether to apologize or defend myself.”
“That depends on how much of it is true.”
He swallowed hard. The fake relationship, the almost kiss, Parker’s Diner, Jenna, and Natalie’s confession that she did not feel like a project with him…
“Probably enough to make both difficult,” he finally said.
Aunt Eleanor’s expression shifted, close enough to a smile that he breathed easier. “An honest answer. I like that.”
Before Mark could decide how to respond, footsteps sounded on the stairs at the back of the shop. He turned.
Natalie came down slowly, one hand on the railing.
Her red velvet dress made every thought in his head stop moving.
The dress brushed around her knees with every step.
Her hair fell in loose waves over one shoulder, pinned back on one side with a small gold clip shaped like a star.
She wore simple earrings, and there was a hint of color on her lips. Her smile seemed nervous.
Mark had seen Natalie surrounded by ribbon and cedar, kneeling beside children with glitter on her hands, standing beneath mistletoe with her breath caught, sitting across from him over coffee and dessert.
He had thought she was beautiful then. Tonight, she looked even more radiant than any Christmastime display he’d ever seen, her own included.
Her smile began to wobble, and he realized he hadn’t said anything.
“Is the dress too much?” she asked.
“No.” His voice came out gruff, and he cleared his throat before trying again. “No, ma’am. It is not too much.”
Aunt Eleanor made a quiet sound behind him, and Mark decided he would survive the embarrassment later.
Natalie’s cheeks warmed. “The green shirt does look nice.” Her gaze moved over him, slower than politeness required, and Mark had to remind himself that standing still was generally expected inside a shop. “Julia was right.”
That made him grin, and some of his nerves vanished. “I’m never telling her that.”
“She probably already knows.”
“Without a doubt, but I’m not going to stroke my sister’s ego.” Mark offered Natalie his arm, hoping that would stop him from standing there staring like a fool. “Ready?”
Natalie accepted, her gloved hand resting lightly in the bend of his elbow. “Ready.”
Aunt Eleanor stepped close enough to kiss Natalie’s cheek and then looked Mark straight in the eye. “Bring her home safe.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And dance with her at least once.”
Natalie’s hand tightened on his arm. “Aunt Eleanor.”
“What? I only asked for one singular dance.” Her aunt shrugged and took another sip. “That is generally the point of such an event, isn’t it?”
Mark glanced down at Natalie. “At least once seems reasonable.”
Natalie’s smile turned a little dangerous. “We’ll see if you still think so after your toes are endangered.”
“That should’ve been my line,” Mark quipped and then wondered where that had come from, but Natalie was smiling at him, and he had to return one of his own.
The Shooting Star Canyon Christmas dance was not at the ranch, which Mark had been grateful for until he pulled into the parking lot of the community hall and saw just how many cars had already packed into every available space.
The old hall stood near the center of town, not far from Grace Community Church and the small library.
The hall was a brick building with white columns, arched windows, and wreaths hanging from every door.
Lights had been strung along the roofline, and two wooden reindeer stood near the steps with red bows around their necks.
The interior of the hall had been transformed.
Mark paused just beyond the entry with Natalie on his arm and took in the room.
The hardwood floor had been polished until the lights overhead reflected in soft streaks.
Cedar garland wrapped the columns, paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling, and strands of white lights crisscrossed above the dance floor like low stars.
The stage at the far end held three local musicians, one with a fiddle, one with a guitar, and one seated at a keyboard draped in green fabric.
Along the left wall, tables were covered in red cloths and lined with cookies from Honey Creek Bakery, Parker’s Diner pies, coffee urns, hot cider, and a punch bowl that had probably seen every community event since before Mark was born.
The right side of the hall held round tables with simple centerpieces made from mason jars, cranberries, pine sprigs, and small candles.
Near the back, a donation table for the church outreach baskets had been set up beneath a sign in Anna Sanford’s unmistakable tidy lettering.
Pastor John Abernathy stood beside it, speaking with Betty Parker and Sheriff Colton Briggs, while Principal Grant Holloway helped a group of children hang paper ornaments on a small tree near the entrance.
The whole place hummed with conversation, music, clinking cups, laughter, and the restless excitement of a town that loved any excuse to gather and call it tradition.
Natalie inhaled softly beside him. “It looks beautiful.”
Mark looked down at her instead of the room. “It does.”
She caught him looking, and her face softened. Then Mrs. Barlow waved from near the refreshment table, and the moment stretched thin but did not break completely.
“Well,” Natalie murmured. “We have been spotted.”
“We were spotted when we parked.”
“Probably before that.”
“Likely.”
They made it only ten feet before Violet Hoffman appeared with Caleb Pierce at her side. Violet wore a deep purple dress and held a plate of cookies. Caleb looked comfortable at Violet’s side, as if nothing in the crowded room could bother him because she was there.
“Natalie, you look gorgeous,” Violet said, pulling her into a careful hug. “That dress is perfect.”
“Thank you.” Natalie glanced quickly at Mark then back to Violet. “Bethany made me try it on.”
“Bethany has excellent taste.” Violet smiled at Mark. “You clean up well too.”
Caleb’s mouth twitched. “That’s high praise from a Hoffman. They usually reserve compliments for baked goods.”
“I’m honored,” Mark said.
Caleb leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as Violet and Natalie talked about the dessert table. “Word of advice? If someone asks you to dance and you hesitate longer than two seconds, three different women will decide you need help.”
Mark looked toward the dance floor, where several couples had already started moving to an easy Christmas song. “I was afraid of that.”
“You should be.” Caleb glanced at Violet, and his expression instantly warmed. “But it’s worth it.”
Before Mark could answer, Jacob and Rachel came over with Sadie between them, Sadie wearing a green dress with a gold bow and enough excitement in her face to light the room without electricity.
Jacob carried two cups of cider, one in each hand, while Rachel kept a gentle hand on Sadie’s shoulder to stop her from darting straight into the dancers.
“Miss Natalie!” Sadie said. “You look like a Christmas princess.”
Natalie’s whole face brightened. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Mark opened his mouth.
Sadie looked up at him. “Mr. Mark, you look like a Christmas fence post.”
Jacob choked on a laugh. Rachel pressed her lips together and looked away, her shoulders shaking.
Mark stared down at Sadie. “A Christmas fence post,” he repeated, entirely uncertain how to feel about that remark.
“With a good shirt,” Sadie added generously.
Natalie laughed hard enough to lean slightly against Mark’s arm, and he almost didn’t care that she was laughing because of a compliment that had missed the mark.
He looked at Jacob, who was grinning far too much for a man holding cider in a crowded room. “She got that from you, didn’t she?”
“Not at all,” Jacob said. “I would have said decorative fence post.”
Rachel gave him a look. “Jacob.”
“What? It’s Christmas, and she said the shirt was good.”
Sadie tugged at Rachel’s hand. “Can we dance now?”
“In a minute,” Rachel said.
Jacob handed Rachel one of the ciders and looked at her with that open, unguarded happiness Mark had noticed more and more lately. “I can take her first if you want.”
Rachel’s expression softened. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Jacob offered his free hand to Sadie.
Sadie stepped onto the dance floor with him, and Jacob let her stand on his boots as the music shifted into another gentle song.
Rachel watched them with a look so tender that Mark had to glance away.
There was a time he would have seen that kind of happiness and felt the old bruise of what he had lost with Jenna.