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But something in his eyes kept her from slipping out the door. Something dark and compelling and masculine, calling to a part of her that had been dormant for a very long time. For just a heartbeat, she imagined things that could never be.
And then she turned and walked away.
CHAPTER FOUR
NATHAN DROVE SLOWLY up Poplar, past the noisy crowd forming in front of Walker Elementary School, and pulled to a stop in front of the deputy’s office in the next block. He climbed out of his patrol car and stared back down the street.
Christmas. Bah, humbug, he thought grimly.
Here it was, the second Saturday in October, and peak fall color had hit with the enthusiasm of a child with a new box of paints. On his drive into town, the riot of crimsons, brilliant oranges, and fluorescent yellows set against the deep emeralds of the pines rimming Lake Ryan had been breathtaking, the air crisp and cool with the sweet scents of evergreens and burning leaves.
And instead of enjoying this perfect fall day, half the population of Ryansville was standing in the schoolyard, arguing over just how commercial they could make Christmas this year.
Slamming his car door, he pivoted toward his office and nearly fell over the Shueller boy, who was a riot of color himself, from his bright carrot hair and freckles to the tips of his paint-spattered sneakers.
“Hi! Are you coming to the Christmas meeting?”
The eager light in Josh’s eyes couldn’t be mistaken, even through the kid’s thick glasses.
“I don’t think so.” At Josh’s crestfallen expression, he added, “I think they’ve got more than enough help over there, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess.” The boy’s expression brightened. “But this is gonna be the best ever. There’s gonna be a parade and a Christmas show and a contest for the most Christmas lights on a house. And they want real animals and people to be in the na...na...”
“Nativity scene?”
Josh’s broad grin displayed a number of missing teeth. “Yeah. Doesn’t it sound cool?”
Maybe to an eight-year-old. But the less Nathan had to do with it, the better. Yvonne Weatherfield had already pressured him to head up a planning committee, but he’d managed to decline. If he could withstand the coy demands of Ryansville’s most prominent socialite, he could manage to sidestep one small boy. “Good luck, Josh. I hope you get a starring role.”
“Well...guess I gotta get over there.”
Nathan watched the boy trudge across the street. At the other side, however, the Christmas spirit apparently took hold of him once again, because he took off at a run to join the others.
Each year a new chairperson promised bigger-better-brighter than ever, and each year, the local businesspeople and women’s groups rallied with ever-greater fervor, all in the name of attracting heavier shopping traffic during the prime weeks of December.
Where was the true meaning of Christmas? Not in fancy decorations and busy cash registers.
