Page 12 of Christmas Magic

The water-droplets-on-his-scalp sensation persisted. Stopping and pretending to read a text on his phone, Dennis glanced over the vehicles in the street. Lucian drove a Mini Cooper—

Ah. A Mini, headed in the opposite direction to Dennis, had stopped at the intersection.

“There you are, you bastard.”

Anger burned in Dennis’s chest. He couldn’t see the driver, but that car had to be Lucian’s.

How he’d love to walk into the street, yank the driver’s side door open—

No. Subtlety was a far more satisfying tactic: The kind of subtlety that worked like fine threads of deception and distrust. With patience and care, they could be stitched into the fabric of happily-ever-after love and then ripped out, destroying all.

He continued walking. Best to keep moving. While it was unlikely that Lucian would recognize Dennis on a cursory glance—he’d grown out his buzz cut and dyed his blond hair and eyebrows dark brown—he wouldn’t take any chances.

As he neared Sherwood House, its landscaped grounds intersected by Whiskers Road, his fingers closed around the vial. His grin broadened.

Revenge. It would indeed taste sweet.

Concern in her gaze, Roberta wiped her mouth and set her crumpled napkin on her empty plate. “I’m having second thoughts.”

Cora set forty dollars on top of the bill lying on the table. Roberta might be suffering qualms, but she was not going to get out of what needed to be done. “At the antique store, you don’t have to say a word to Lucian. I’m happy to do all the talking. Just come with me and be my moral support.”

“I still think he’ll refuse to be our Santa.”

Cora downed the last of her lukewarm coffee then took her mirrored powder compact out of her purse and swiveled up her scarlet lipstick. “We won’t leave until he says yes.”

“Be reasonable, Cora. It’s short notice.”

“It is, but as we discussed before, Lucian owes us.” With a careful hand, Cora applied the cosmetic. Red was such a bold, confident color; the perfect hue to convey her determination and purpose.

“It’s a very busy time of year, especially for shop owners.”

Dear Roberta seriously needed to grow a pair. Flicking her gaze to her gray-haired friend, Cora said: “He doesn’t have to stay at our party all day. Just an hour or so.”

Roberta fidgeted. “Molly might need him for that hour at the store.”

Cora barely resisted a disgusted snort. Molly. Whatever did Lucian see in her? Sure, she was a bright twenty-something year old with an amazing figure, but a woman of Cora’s age and experience had so much more to offer a man of Lucian’s sophisticated tastes. They shared a love of antiques. Once they got to know each other better, they’d no doubt find they had many other interests in common.

After peering at her mouth in the mirror, Cora dropped her lipstick tube into her purse.

“Cora. Did you hear what I said?”

Every unfortunate word. With the noise in the bakery—a mix of conversation and laughter from the surrounding tables and holiday music playing in the background—Cora could say no, but that would only prolong the agony of the discussion. “I heard. I am still going to ask him. I don’t want the Historical Society to go under.”

Guilt flickered in Roberta’s eyes. “I don’t want the group to dissolve either. It has been part of our lives for many years.”

“Then help me convince Lucian.”

Roberta pushed her plate to the side. “You won’t like me asking this question….”

Cora barely resisted an eye roll. “Go on.”

“Are you asking Lucian because you genuinely believe that if he attends, he’ll help the society? Or are you inviting him because you’re infatuated with him?”

Both. “Roberta!” Cora snapped her compact shut and hoped she looked appropriately miffed.

“Sorry, but I know how much you like him.”

Frowning, Cora scooted out of the booth. “My thoughts were only for the society; not myself.”