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Chapter 1
“Nash!”
Looking left Nash Winters found Mrs. L, aka Mrs. Longkovsky. She was standing out the front of her store dressed in something that might have begun life as a kaftan. It had so many colors to it he wasn’t sure he could name them all and was covered in sequins. There was also a leg split Nash found disturbing. He’d been in her store once and vowed never again. The place was loaded with cabinets that could take out a shin or an eye.
He raised a hand and prepared to cross the road.
“I have your sweater,” she called.
“What sweater?” He stopped.
“Your Christmas one!”
Nash looked up at the sky. Blue and cloudless; the sun was beaming down on the small town of Ryker Falls and had for several days. Summer this year had proved to be a bitching hot one so far.
“It’s summer. Don’t we celebrate Christmas in the winter here?”
She made a pfft noise and waved him closer. Nash had only been a local for a few months. Before that he’d lived out of town on his family’s ranch. He knew he wasn’t accepted yet and was all good with that. He liked his space and knew enough about this place and its inhabitants to know he didn’t want to get too close to some of them.
Once, maybe he would have, but life lessons had taught him people were rarely as good as they seemed.
His sister Maggs and her man, Fin, were locals and lived on the land neighboring his. Or would when their house was finished. Nash had purchased his land because he liked the fact he had no neighbors that he could see. They were there, but not close enough to visit demanding he be social.
“Come into my shop, Nash.”
“I’m sweaty. I’ve been working.”
“You think I don’t like sweat? Jack Trainer comes in here all the time with it smeared all over him.”
He went because he wanted a peaceful existence and because she was old, and as such deserved his respect—at least until she did something to piss him off.
He moved to the doorway and looked in. Mrs. L was holding up a Christmas sweater. Black with a cabin on the front and a tree with twinkling lights. As far as that kind of thing went, it was pretty inoffensive.
“Nice.”
“Good.” She dumped it into a bag and held out her hand.
“I’ve heard you’re pretty sneaky about getting the locals to buy your sweaters.” He pulled out some notes.
“Poor old lady like me, I need to earn my money somehow.” She batted her eyelashes at him, and he noticed they had something red stuck to them.
“Are they feathers?”
“They are. Do you like them?”
No.
He went for, “They’re interesting.”
She moved to his side, then nudged him out of the store.
“That’s going to be a great big bundle of fun, you mark my words.”
Nash followed her gnarled pointed finger to the store across the road and down a bit. The sign above it had only recently been erected.
“Chocolate On The Rocks,” she said in her scratchy voice that suggested the pack a day had been a habit for many years.
“You like chocolate then?”
