He gave his spoonful a suspect glance, but then took the bite anyway.
It wasn’t a bad feeling. Just a little unexpected.
Chapter Seven
Sheila couldn’t take her eyes off of Tucker, and that was weird because she didn’t remember having any thoughts about him at all the other times they’d met. They were brief interactions. But how had she not noticed his wide shoulders before? Or the kindness in his steely blue eyes?
The last thing I need to feel is attraction for a man, no matter how good-looking or nice he is, who lives this far from home.
“I can’t believe how many people are here.” She hugged her cup for warmth.
“It’s an annual tradition. If someone doesn’t show up, then it’s cause for a wellness check.” Tucker pretended to puff up. “As fire chief of this town, I take that very seriously.”
“Of course you do.” She pointed her spoon at the big Christmas stocking. “Are you going to give that jerky away or just haul it around so you can brag about it all night?”
“I really do need to pass this stuff out. Thanks for joining me for the jambalaya.”
“It was great. Thanks. I’m glad I didn’t miss this.”
“I’ll carry your bowl inside for you.” He took her empty bowl. “You’ll excuse me?”
“Sure thing.” She watched him walk away. His laughter wafted out into the night air as he shouted offers of homemade jerky to the guests. She’d never met such a confident yet humble man. It intrigued her that he’d have gone to the trouble of making mounds of jerky just to give away to people for the holidays. His thoughtfulness touched her.
I should have acted more interested in his jerky instead of just teasing him. I’m out of practice. I don’t even know how to flirt anymore.
She shook off the thought and rocked back, staring off into the thousands of tiny lights in the magnolia tree.You did a good job, Tucker.The hum of joyful chatter coming from the house was comforting. Her thoughts drifted, the lights blurring, as she wondered what living this way must be like for Natalie and Randy. She’d thought for sure Natalie would move back to Richmond to be with him, but instead he’d taken a leave of absence and moved up here to give the relationship a go. They both seemed completely fulfilled.
Sheila sat listening to the others talk. One man was telling someone that he’d been trying to talk Orene into opening up the Mountain Creek Inn as a teahouse a couple of days a week to help defray the cost of upkeep of the older home. It wasn’t a bad idea, and apparently, according to what she was overhearing, it had once been a dream of Orene’s to do that.
She could imagine Orene fussing over couples, and mothers and daughters, for high tea on fancy place settings. Towers of fancy little pastries and dainty sandwiches.
Wouldn’t it be nice to plan a fancy high tea one day while she was in town?
“There you are.” Natalie walked outside and sat in the chair next to her. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Sorry. It’s just so peaceful out here. I didn’t want to be a hanger-onner to you and Randy.”
“You’re not. I want you to meet these people.”
“I guess I’m just feeling a little tired after the drive,” Sheila said.
“I understand. You can go upstairs whenever you like, but I have a feeling it’s going to be loud for quite a while.” Natalie lifted a green baggie and a red baggie up in front of her. “Which do you want? Turkey or venison jerky?”
“Tucker’s homemade jerky,” Sheila said with a smile. Somehow, he’d walked off and not even offered her any.
“It is. How’d you know? Did you already get some?”
“Surprisingly I did not, but he was carrying that huge stocking around like it had money in it.”
“Just jerky, but it tastes like a million bucks.”
“I’ll take the turkey.” She took the green bag from Natalie, opened it, and put a piece in her mouth. “Oh? I thought jerky was supposed to be dry and tough. This is tender.” She chewed, pausing only to say, “And really good.”
“He’s known for making the best around.” Natalie tucked the venison jerky in her pocket. “I’m going to save this one and put it in Randy’s stocking. He could make a meal out of this stuff. I think he’d be fine if it’s all I served for dinner.”
“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” echoed from inside.
“Come on. This is my favorite Christmas song.” Natalie got up and Sheila followed her. They wound their way through the kitchen and dining room and through throngs of people to the living room, where two kids sat side by side on the piano bench, pumping thepiano’s pedals with their feet to keep it playing. “The old pianola has been in Orene’s family since the 1920s,” said Natalie. “It plays paper rolls. I’d never seen a player piano before moving here.”
