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“I volunteered to do the job without backup, but they insisted,” Rosie informed her, seeming to think that if it had just been her then everything would have been fine, and Sarah wouldn’t have minded.
Sarah gave Maybelle an imploring look. “You’re the one who said he was squeaky clean. Just… just stop spying on him. Please.”
“Oh, all right,” the older woman gave in. “Girls, let’s go get coffee and warm up. We’ll look for our tree later and leave the lovebirds to themselves.”
“We’re not lovebirds,” Sarah insisted as the older women walked away.
They weren’t.
And, despite that almost-kiss, she and Brody weren’t going to be, either.
Chapter Eight
While their tree was being dug up, Sarah and Bodie had gone to Mrs. Harvey’s café to get a late lunch.
“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Bodie said. “You were right.”
“About?” Taking a sip of her hot cocoa, Sarah glanced at him from across the small wooden table where they sat.
“This.” He gestured to the renovated barn with its country store and deli. The owners had even had a fireplace built complete with a large stone hearth, and a braided rug and rocking chairs in front of it.
The feel of the place spoke of times long gone; simpler times when life was good and dark shadows didn’t haunt him.
“Mrs. Harvey’s soup is the best I’ve had,” he continued. Realizing how Sarah might take his comment, he added, “No offense to your own cooking, of course.”
“Of course,” she mimicked, a smile toying on her lips that he recognized from when they’d been painting and she’d dabbed him with paint. Sarah liked to tease him.
Bodie didn’t mind. Sarah was…fun.
In a different time, a different world…no, he wouldn’t go there, either. Just because he was inside a cozy country barn straight off a Christmas card didn’t mean anything had changed. Not really.
She might have called the tree farm enchanted, but there were some things no amount of Christmas magic could fix. His messed-up head and body being two of them.
“You should consider serving Mrs. Harvey’s soup to your customers at Hamilton House.”
“Her peanut butter fudge isn’t bad, either.” Sarah took a bite to prove her point. “Mmmmm.”
Watching her eat one of the candies she’d insisted they had to have, Bodie smiled. If a person was what he or she ate, it was no wonder Sarah was so sweet. The woman loved desserts.
“You sure you don’t want a bite?” she offered, holding a piece out to him.
He nodded. “I’m sure.”
“You shouldn’t be.” She tsked. “You just admitted that I was right about the soup. I think you should trust me on this and at least have a taste of peanut butter fudge.”
Sarah might be sweet as sugar, but she was also as stubborn as a mule.
“One bite, then.”
She rewarded him with a smile and a piece of fudge. “You won’t regret this. It’s delicious.”
The fudge stuck to her fingers when Bodie attempted to take the bite from her fingers.
“Here,” she offered, holding the bite up to his mouth, but Bodie managed to get most of the fudge in his grasp and popped the candy into his mouth.
The sweet peanut butter flavor practically melted in his mouth, but even though the fudge was good, Bodie thought Sarah had Mrs. Harvey beat. He preferred Sarah’s oatmeal chocolate chip cookies any day.
He started to tell her so but noticed a flurry of green outside the window.
