Page 49 of Cowboy’s Christmas Baker

“Oh wow,” Mallory said, stepping over to the wooden crates on the side of the porch. “That’s a lot of stuff.”

Harrison looked over to see her already lifting a crate that seemed to be full of tools.

“This stuff might be kind of heavy for you,” he said.

“No way,” she told him. “I move fifty-pound bags of flour all the time.”

He frowned and grabbed two more crates, following her out to his truck. Just because she could carry this stuff didn’t mean she should. She was a tiny woman, lugging around a fifty-pound sack of flour could wind her up with an injury.

She doesn’t have anyone else to do it for her, he remembered with a pang.

He put his crates in the truck bed and then took Mallory’s from her.

“Wow, that was heavy,” she admitted, smiling.

She turned as if to head back up to the porch again, and he wrapped his hand around her arm before she could.

“Wait,” he said, his voice going low and rough.

She turned back to him, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Mallory.”

“Yes?” she replied, her voice soft and breathy.

Harrison wanted to tell her what she meant to him, wanted to ask her if she could ever imagine herself with a man like him.

“Don’t move any more fifty-pound bags of flour around,” he heard himself say instead. “Just message me and I’ll move them.”

He expected her to argue, but she was looking up at him almost like his words hadn’t even hit her.

Even in the moonlight, her eyes were as green as a forest at dawn. The world around them seemed to slip away, until all he could see was Mallory.

He could practically taste her pretty pink lips. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath.

Mallory’s eyes slid down to his mouth and his resolve broke the moment he knew she was thinking about it too.

He bent to kiss her, sliding his hand up her arm to cup her cheek.

Her phone suddenly rang, a loud bell sound like an old-fashioned landline.

Mallory stepped back, her hand going automatically to her pocket.

Harrison moved back too, his heart still thundering.

“H-hello,” she said into the phone, her eyes still fixed on Harrison’s.

She listened, biting her lip.

“You can’t borrow a truck, or—?” she began, then stopped as the person on the other end said something Harrison couldn’t hear. She nodded her head, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes. “Okay, I understand, of course. I hope you get it fixed soon. Merry Christmas.”

She slid the phone back in her pocket, looking so upset that it would have broken Harrison’s heart if there was anything left there to break.

“What was that about?” he asked. He could tell that his voice was too loud and angry. But he didn’t like the idea of anyone upsetting her like this.

“Oh,” she said. “Well, there’s this couple out in Ginger Brook. They make candy canes, and they let me buy a sack of the broken ones every year. I use them for my peppermint mochas, which are a big seller around the holidays.”

Harrison nodded.