Page 11 of Yuletide Acres

I pull into the town hall and head for my office. My secretary, Susan, is giggling with Troy, the local sheriff. Susan is happily married, but she’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth for the handsome officer. Then again, so does half the female population of the town.

The other half? They’re gunning for me.

“There you are. Wondered if you might pop in today.” Susan smiles up at me, nodding toward the coffee machine. “Cup of coffee?”

“I had a few things to take care of. How are you, Susan? Sheriff?”

“We’re discussing our newest resident,” Susan murmurs with a chuckle. “It seems she is causing quite a stir.”

What did I say about small towns? “I assume you mean Poppy Mills?”

“Yeah,” Troy murmurs, letting go with a wolf whistle. “She’s a beauty. Have you seen her?”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I bristle at his statement. She is beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact. And I want everyone to adopt a strict hands-off policy regarding Poppy. “I’ve met her. She plans to open a holistic practice.”

Susan claps her hands together. “I know, isn’t it fabulous? People are so excited. She’s also talking about a Yule celebration. Apparently, this town was founded by pagans.”

I glance up from my paperwork, eyes narrowing. “Wait just a damn minute. We are not celebrating some heathen holiday.”

Susan and Troy exchange glances, likely shocked by my stringent stance. After all, I’m the likable, affable mayor who is up for just about anything.

Except Poppy Mills. I’m not prepared, in any way, for that woman. My only defense is to freeze her out, letting her know that the Montana cold isn’t her biggest concern.

Is it a dick move? Yes. Do I know of any other options? Aside from ripping off her clothes and sinking inside her, none come to mind.

But I know that’s not the real reason. The worst idea that I refuse to give room to root is that no matter how much I want Poppy, she won’t want me. Not anymore. I’m not diving into a pool of unrequited love.

“I think it’s a lovely idea,” Susan argues, pursing her lips in my direction. “Besides, it would teach people about the history of their town.”

“Poppy just got here. Now she wants to change everything? Who does she think she is?”

“Apparently someone who got on the wrong side of you, Mr. West. What is your deal?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired. Can we talk about something else?”

Right on cue, Mr. Alder, the local realtor, strolls over, clapping Troy on the shoulder. “I have a favor to ask, Sheriff.”

“Shoot,” Troy replies.

Mr. Alder chuckles. “Actually, that’s the favor. I just rented the old Hardwick cabin to a tiny little woman, no bigger than a minute.”

“You rented the cabin to Poppy? It’s way the hell out there. The road isn’t even paved. There are all kinds of wildlife in those woods and Poppy has never handled a gun.” I blurt this bevy of information, realizing my error a second too late.

All eyes swing to me. Susan smirks, hiding a laugh behind her hand. So much for keeping my history with Poppy under wraps.

“She hasn’t, but she was insistent on taking the cabin. For some reason, she didn’t want to stay in town.” Mr. Alder shrugs, although I notice him throwing me the stink eye. “I implored her to buy a rifle and learn how to shoot. I thought you wouldn’t mind helping her, Sheriff.”

“A gorgeous woman like that? I’ll help her all damn day. No worries, Mr. Alder. I’ll make sure the little lady is safe.”

Like hell he will. “I’ll take care of it,” I grumble.

“I can handle it, Dylan. It’s obvious you don’t like her,” Troy retorts, clapping my arm. “Me, on the other hand? I’m all too excited to get to know her better.”

“I said, I’ll take care of it.” Now I’m seething—internally and externally.

“Well,” Mr. Alder states, his gaze swinging between me and Troy, “I’m sure one of you will. I just want Ms. Mills safe.” He turns on his heel, making a beeline for the exit.

Smart move, Mr. Alder.

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