“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.
Chapter Two
“Is Cole planningto wear his fuzzy red Santa suit instead of his military uniform to your wedding, Sophie?”
Despite the exasperation Isabelle hadn’t been able to shake after her lunchtime encounter with the full-of-himself stranger, she smiled at Rosie Hudson as she paced back and forth from one fabric display to another while they waited on Sophie to model her gown.
“You think we could convince him to?” Isabelle straightened a display that Rosie had bumped into on her last spin around.
Waiting in the quilt shop’s Christmas section had been easiest due to the wooden rocking chair that Sarah occupied while nursing her five-month-old daughter. Left up to Isabelle, her soon-to-be brother-in-law would wear his Santa suit rather than his Marine uniform. Not that Isabelle was as big on the holidays as Sophie, but military uniforms reminded her of things she would just as soon not be reminded of on her sister’s wedding day.
“Cole’s not wearing his Santa suit,” Maybelle Kirby assured, her tone brooking no argument from where she browsed Christmas embroidered kitchen towels. If the Butterflies had a leader, Maybelle would be it. The regal, older Grace Kelly look-alike with her no-nonsense attitude and ability to whip a room into shape made Isabelle partial to the woman. Isabelle appreciated order. Maybelle held up aMerry Christmastowel. “These are lovely.”
“Maybe Cole could wear his firefighter uniform,” Ruby suggested, moving next to Isabelle to browse through the holiday fabric she’d just straightened. “Cole and my grandson look so handsome in their uniforms.” The older woman beamed. “Andrew’s coming home from California to be the best man, you know?”
“We know,” Maybelle and Rosie said simultaneously, as if they’d heard Ruby make the comment a few times previously.
Unfazed, Ruby just smiled at her five decades-plus friends. Ruby was an iconic grandma. She cooked. She sewed. She loved with all her heart. “I can’t wait to see him, Morgan, and Grayson. It feels as if it’s been forever since they got married this summer. I know Claudia thinks the same about her granddaughter and great-grandson. I’m glad they chose to spend their honeymoon in Pine Hill, so we got to spend time with them.”
“Not much of a honeymoon.” Rosie fluttered her fake lashes. Rosie was the life of the Butterflies’ party. Always had been and always would be. Just ask her and she’d tell you while tossing Christmas-colored confetti to prove it. “They should have left Greyson with Claudia and gone somewhere exotic.”
“Morgan wanted to stay here after their wedding.” Ruby gave her friend a don’t-you-go-hating-on-my-grandson look. The marriage of Ruby’s grandson to Claudia’s granddaughter had officially cemented the Butterflies into family. Not that it mattered. The women were closer than most blood relatives. Isabelle had thought of them as family long before her second cousin had married Andrew.
While Isabelle decided to redo the fabric display, putting each bolt into order by theme, the group chatted about Andrew and Morgan a few minutes before Cole’s Santa role came up again.
“How Sophie transforms that hunky man into a plausible Santa amazes me.” The large diamond wedding set on Rosie’s left hand sparkled as it caught the quilt shop’s lights when she fluffed her short, punk rock blue hair. The style might appear ridiculous on some sixty-something women, but Rosie pulled off the look. Everything about the exuberant woman was larger than life and made Isabelle feel dull and plain. Or maybe it was lingering thoughts of Zach that had her questioning her stick-straight pale locks cut into a no-nonsense, shoulder-length bob.
Isabelle forced herself away from Zach thoughts for the four millionth time that day to thinking that at the rate they were selling the festive holiday fabric, she’d have to order more soon. Santa patterns here. Holly patterns there. Reindeer patterns next to the Santa ones. A happy snowman print caught her eye, and she sighed as Zach’s teasing gaze popped back into her mind. She’d not felt dull or plain when she’d been staring into those sparkly eyes. She’d felt… alive.
Not alive, she corrected herself. Annoyed. That was what she’d felt. Annoyed. Irritated. Livid. Prickly.Breathless.
Frustrated, she shoved the snowman fabric as far back between the other bolts as it would go, not caring what order it was in, just proud that it could barely be seen. Maybe she’d nix snowman orders of any kind for the rest of the season.
“Oh, that one is perfect for what I’m looking for.” Ruby rescued the hidden material.
Of course it was. Isabelle stepped back to give Ruby room to examine the fabric. In the process, she bumped against a holiday-themed sewing items display and knocked a few pieces to the floor. Stooping to pick up the dropped goodies, she realized what they were and fought screaming. Seriously? Of everything in the shop, she’d hit the silly snowman pincushions Sophie had been so tickled with when she’d unboxed them.
Mumbling under her breath, Isabelle stewed. Would the ladies notice if she opened one of the plastic packages and took out her frustrations on one of the smiling fellow’s round bellies with as many stray pins as she could find? She wished she’d never read that joke at Lou’s. Or ran into her own personal abdominal—um, make that abominable—snowman.
“I knew the first time my Andrew brought Cole over that that young man was a good one.” Ruby brushed her fingertips over the cotton blend as she unwound the fabric bolt to better see the pattern.
Isabelle swore the merry snowmen were taunting her.
