Page 3 of Just Add Mistletoe

“Yeah, that’s him,” Marci said. “My husband went to all those council meetings. The guy is from out of town, of course, so that always gets everyone’s backs up.”

The man was currently holding up a hand as if asking for everyone to quiet down. The drivers of the other trucks climbed out, wearing construction vests. The crowd seemed to grow—had more people arrived? Lori estimated at least fifty people . . . amazing that so many would gather in this sleepy town.

She tore her gaze away and continued with stringing the lights.

“Oh my gosh!” Marci said.

Lori looked at her, then out the window. A fight had broken out between the two groups. She wasn’t quite sure what had happened. But people were throwing punches and women were pulling at other women, and someone screamed.

Lori was so stunned, she couldn’t move for a moment, then she jumped off the stool and hurried to the front door. She didn’t have a plan, but she wanted to get Lydia Kane out of the fray. She hurried across the street toward the chaos, her heart thumping. Lydia wasn’t too hard to pick out because she stood on the edge of the crowd, her hand to her chest as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Mrs. Kane,” Lori called out. “Come with me. Let’s get you out of this mayhem.”

“Lori?” Lydia’s eyes widened when she spotted her. “Can you believe all of this?”

Just then, sirens sounded, and that seemed to break up the crowd. A few people headed off down the street. Two women were in a shouting match. A man on the anti-development side cradled his nose, which was dripping with blood.

“Come on,” Lori said again, clasping Mrs. Kane’s arm. “It sounds like the cops are on their way to sort everything out. Let’s just head into my shop to stay out of the way.”

Lydia looked reluctant to leave, but Lori wasn’t having any of it. “Lydia,” she said in a firm tone. “I think it’s better we get out of the way.”

Finally, the woman nodded and turned. They crossed the street to where Marci stood at the door, holding it open. “Are you all right, Mrs. Kane?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Lydia said. “This whole town has gone mad. This was supposed to be a peaceful protest.”

“Have a seat here,” Lori said, motioning to one of the armchairs she kept by the fireplace that made a cozy nook during the winter months. She pulled out her phone and sent a quicktext to Brandy and Everly, telling them that their mom was fine, but she’d been part of an incident.

Brandy replied immediately, saying she was on her way.

“Oh boy,” Marci murmured.

Lori looked up to see someone approaching their shop. A tall man with a red ball cap. He tugged open the door.

Lydia yelped. “It’s the devil himself!”

The man’s frame seemed to fill the whole door, and Lori found herself staring into a pair of hazel eyes that seemed to bore right into her. The man was handsome, she’d give him that. If, that was, someone found an angular-jaw-dark-lashes-hazel-eyes look attractive.

No one in the shop spoke. Likely because they were all staring at him.

“Do you happen to have any ice?” he asked, taking another step closer in his construction boots. “A man out there has a broken nose.”

MALCOM GRAVES HAD NEVER MADE three women speechless before. But that was happening at this moment. The fifty-something lady in the chair looked like she wanted to murder him, the redhead grinned from ear to ear, and the brunette stared at him with blue eyes that might technically be considered black.

He tried again. “Sorry to intrude, but do you happen to have ice?” He glanced around—what was this place? It smelled like someone had thrown a potpourri of flowers into a simmering pot. As far as he could see, there were knickknacks everywhere—like the things that you found at a garage sale.

“Don’t let him in,” the older woman said, her sugary voice belying her stern words.

“We don’t have any ice,” the redhead announced. “Try at the end of the block. There’s a grocery store there.”

“That will take too long,” the brunette said. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. Silver earrings dangled from her ears—were those . . . cat earrings? She wore all black—black jeans, black V-neck shirt, and short black boots. She moved past the redhead. “I’ll get a cold washcloth for him.” She stopped in front of a shelf that readBack to Schooland grabbed what looked like a hand towel with the same message.

Then she continued toward a narrow hallway.

“Oh, and you can come in,” she called over her shoulder. “Probably safer inside.”

Malcom hesitated because the older woman’s glare was quite fierce. It wasn’t like he was looking for a safe place—the protesters wouldn’t hurt him. He was pretty sure the man with the broken nose was an unintentional injury. But what did he really know? This small, cozy town of Everly Falls was turning out not to be so cozy after all.

“Here you are.” The brunette was back.

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