Page 16 of Cowboy Stolen Kiss for Christmas

“Breaking my heart.” Ames gave her a squeeze hug.

“No, it’s not.” She burrowed closer to him, finally starting to warm up. “And it’s one of the things I appreciate the most about you.”

“Oh, really?” He sounded fascinated.

“You’re so stinking honest. I don’t have to second-guess every word that comes out of your mouth to try to figure out what you really mean.”

“Yep, I’m a what you see is what you get kinda guy, right down to the endless quantities of spilled coffee.” He turned into the parking lot of the toy store.

She squirmed on the seat cushion, realizing he didn’t get that she’d made up her excuse about needing to get back to work. She only worked every other Saturday. “So, um, today is actually my day off,” she confessed as he pulled around back and brought his truck to a halt in front of the rear exit.

“I am aware.” He set the emergency brake and swiveled her way without killing the motor.

“Then why did you bring me here?” She raised her head to take in their surroundings and discovered that the sporty white Jeep she shared with her sister was the only other vehicle parked back there. She and Ames were otherwise alone, sandwiched between the three-story toy store and the mountain behind them.

“To regroup.” He cocked his head at her. “Sometimes you need a moment to just breathe after a big performance in the ring.”

“Thank you for understanding.” She smiled shyly at him.

He responded with a lazy grin that made her heartbeat pick up the pace a little. “You feeling any better?”

“A little.” Her smile slipped as she replayed the events from the past half hour or so inside her head. “Brex’s sudden appearance in town is nagging at me. Something feels off about it.” Several somethings, actually. If he was truly interested in reconciliation, it had taken him an awfully long time to come to that decision. And why show up without giving her advance notice? Signing up for the Sweetheart Spectacular felt off, too. In the past, he and his gypsy craftsmen friends hadn’t given small towns like this a second glance, preferring to spend their time and resources on bigger cities that drew much larger crowds.

Ames drummed his fingers against her shoulder. “You care to elaborate on that?”

“I’ll try.” She scrambled to put her worries and fears into words. “If Brex Morrison’s goal really is to win me back, he did too little too late.”

Ames’ expression lit. “I can certainly get on board with that statement.”

“And I really don’t get why he bothered signing up for the Sweetheart Spectacular. In the past, he avoided small towns like the plague.”

“You’re here,” Ames pointed out mildly.

“I’ve been here for over a year,” she reminded.

“There’s that.” His hand tightened around her shoulder.

“What if he had another reason for coming to town?” she mused. He’d always been a bit on the mysterious side, sometimes conversing like old friends with men and women she’d never laid eyes on before. She’d always credited it to his ability to make friends quickly, but what if there was more to the seedy company he sometimes kept?

“I don’t know.” Ames shook his head. “Want me to ask around to see if anyone else can help shed light on that?”

“If it’s not too much trouble. I’ll do the same.” She bit down on her lower lip. “All we really know, at this point, is that he has a booth reserved at the Valentine craft fair. I’m not even sure what he’s peddling these days.” Her thoughts returned to the delicate wooden flower he’d laid on the table at the Peppermint Palace.

“Toys,” Ames supplied.

She eyed him curiously. “How do you know that?”

“Because I have a very nosy younger brother.” He gave her a wry look. “Between last night and this morning, he took it upon himself to play Sherlock and do some digging around. So did Flash Billings.” At her puzzled expression, he explained, “The guy who gives all the sleigh rides around town.”

“Oh, he was a sweetheart!” She was really looking forward to taking him up on his offer to reschedule their sleigh ride.

“You might’ve seen him at the post office, too, where he proudly serves as postmaster.” His lips quirked. “Often in holiday attire.”

“Now that you mention it…” Laura’s mother usually made the daily post office run for the Merry Woodmakers, but Laura had gone in her place a few times.

A contemplative silence settled between them. It didn’t take long, though, for more questions to start burning inside her.

“Do you know what kind of toys Brex brought with him to sell?” She was dying to know if he was working solo these days, or if he intended to display a conglomeration of products from other crafters. He’d often done so in the past, usually for the seedy new friends he’d made in nearly every town they’d visited.

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