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“I culled out Sasha’s letter before dropping off the rest at the post office, and I went by her place on my way here to give it to her,” Calen explained. “No need for Janice Fay to see it and start speculating.”
“That was nice of you.” And Emmy was glad he’d done it.
Sasha had enough in her life to work out without adding the possibility of a relationship with Tate. Plus, it would fire up the gossips even more if word got out that he’d bedded his boss’s lover. That, in turn, would fire up the gossip about Sasha, Owen, Calen and her.
“I did the same for Gladys,” Calen went on. “I took her the letter and then encouraged her to give it to Clive. She’s considering it.”
“Good. Waylon might have postponed true love, but he didn’t squelch it.” Emmy winced. “Sorry.”
It surprised her when he smiled. “You don’t have to walk on eggshells,” he assured her, then took hold of her hand. “Come on. Let’s walk to the post office.”
She didn’t object to that because any time alone with Calen was a good thing. Hopefully, she wouldn’t say something stupid to spoil the mood.
And what a mood it was.
Once they were out on the sidewalk, she could see the town. At other times of the year, the decorations just looked tacky, but the snow had made them look, well, like Christmas.
They walked, the sun and the warmth of Calen’s hand chasing away the cold, and an easy silence settled around them. There it was again. That word,easy. It was what she’d always had with Calen, and she’d been terrified of losing it. But here it was. She hadn’t lost it after all, even if things weren’t the same old, same old between them.
The snow had kept the tourists away and with most folks at the post office, Main Street was deserted. Only a handful of the shops had opened, including the diner and the bakery, and she caught the scent of bacon, cinnamon rolls, and coffee.
When they reached the diner, the door opened, and Sasha nearly smacked right into them. She held a to-go bag and a large cup of coffee.
“Oh,” Sasha muttered. “Emmy, Calen.” She paused, swallowed hard. “I want to thank you again for bringing me the letter. And for not arresting Tate and me.”
“Not a problem,” he said, already moving past her. “Have a good life, Sasha.”
“You sound as if you mean that,” Sasha muttered.
“I do,” Calen said without even glancing back.
Emmy didn’t need to ask if he had meant his words. He did. The 367 days of getting over the past were done. Added to that, Waylon’s hatred of all things Christmas had finally ended in bringing a lot of people a happy Christmas this year.
Of course, that left Emmy with one big question.
What now?
Apparently, part of thewhat nowdidn’t include Calen hurrying to the post office. They continued to stroll before stopping outside the window of Santa’s Workshop. Emmy intended only a cursory glance, but her glance became a stare when she spotted the figures of Calen and her. They were no longer at the sheriff’s office and the bookstore but were standing together in front of the replica of Santa’s Workshop.
Just as they were right now.
“When I passed by the window earlier, Hanna Tarver was adding some fake snow,” he explained. “I asked her to move us closer together.”
Emmy couldn’t have been more surprised if the inflatable cowboy Santa had toppled onto them. “Calen,” she said on a rise of breath, “that’s . . . romantic.”
“I have my moments.” And he smiled. A real honest-to-goodness smile that made her want to kiss him. Of course, plenty of things made her want to kiss Calen.
“Maybe we can be best friends with benefits,” she threw out when they started moving again.
He stopped and looked down at her. “Maybe. But I was thinking of something more.”
More sounded wonderful. And a little confusing. “What could be more than friends with benefits?”
He was quiet a few seconds. “Lovers with benefits?”
Emmy chuckled. “I think lovers already get benefits.”
“All right, then people in love, with benefits,” he amended.
