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He felt Blue’s gaze on him, and Poppy’s too. He realized he needed to get the hell out of here because the little girl saw too much and he had no time to deal with any of it right now.
He looked at Poppy. “You ready to go?”
“I am,” she replied.
The two of them said their goodbyes, and twenty minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot beside Bella & Hooch.
“Thanks for the ride.” Poppy opened the door and smiled at him. “I appreciate it.” She slipped out of his truck and headed for her store, where, surprisingly, there were already some folks waiting to get in.
Cash was just about to leave when he spotted the older couple and the dog from the night before. They were walking the path across from Poppy’s boutique, sipping on hot chocolate or coffee, and the woman giggled at whatever it was her husband said. They had to be eighty, at least, and the way they looked at each other, it was…
They look the way I feel.
Cash sat back in his seat, his gaze still on the couple. Was it possible to feel like that about a woman he’d known only a few days? Had it grown in the quiet moments between dusk and dawn? Had it expanded when he made her smile? When her pain vanished, even for a little bit?
Shit.
This was inconvenient. What the hell was he going to do?
The couple passed within a few feet of his truck, and the gentleman glanced over at Cash. He had a thick white beard, and his hair was the same, long ends curling up beneath his knitted red hat. It was weird, but something about the man seemed familiar. His eyes…wait, did they actually twinkle? He winked at Cash before tucking his wife closer and whispering something to her.
She nodded, and they continued on their way. Cash stared after them until they disappeared from sight. It was late, nearly noon, and he needed to get out of Dodge, so to speak. He glanced over to Poppy’s boutique just as the sun glinted off something in the window. He narrowed his eyes, hit the window button on his truck so it rolled back, and had a better look.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.
Before he knew what he was doing, Cash was out of the truck, striding toward Bella & Hooch as if his pants were on fire.
“Cash!” Poppy didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “Did I forget something in your truck?”
“No. How much for that?” he asked, pointing to the window.
Poppy slowly smiled. “Let me get it for you and see.”
Ten minutes later, he was on the road, a plain brown paper bag beside him filled with silver and gold tissue paper. He didn’t think about what he was doing; he just did. He pulled into the motel parking lot and took the spot in front of Chess’s room, same as he had the night before.
He had nothing planned, of course, but her door was locked and there was no answer, so that kinda put a dent in whatever it was he was going to do. He glanced around, turned in a full circle. He had no cell phone number to call and no other way to get hold of her.
Cash thought hard for a few seconds and then walked toward the office. He’d leave a message. Tell them to let her know he was still in town. As he reached for the door, he glanced toward the diner, and the fog cleared. Trumpets blared. His vision sharpened.
Chess sat with Ted Williams, sipping a coffee while the old guy regaled her with one of his stories.
Cash changed course and pushed into the diner. He ignored Joely, who said a big hello from behind the counter. He paid no attention to the older couple holding hands while they shared a piece of apple pie. And he sure as hell didn’t care that Steve was in the kitchen, cigarette dangling from his mouth as he plated food.
He walked to Ted’s table, and when Chess looked up at him, he didn’t say a thing. He bent over the table, slid his hands onto either side of her face, tilted her chin slightly, and then kissed her like he’d never kissed a woman before. She tasted like vanilla and warmth and sugar. She kind of tasted like home.
When he finally pulled away, she blinked furiously but couldn’t seem to speak. Cash got it—his throat was tight, and he needed a moment. He handed her the bag.
“This is for you,” he said roughly. “Merry Christmas, Chess.”
“I don’t understand.” Her voice was shaky.
“Open it,” he said gently.
Gingerly, she picked through the tissue paper to dig to the bottom of the bag. When she spied what sat inside, she stilled.
“Oh, Cash,” she whispered, slowly reaching for it. She pushed the bag aside and set the snow globe on the table. It was the fancy kind that you could wind so the scene inside turned full circle. It was a man and a woman and a golden dog, playing in the snow.
“It’s not Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “But this could be us.”
