Page 8 of Christmas in the Shadows

She grabbed the salad she’d made using ingredients she had on hand. She’d placed it in an antique bowl once belonging to her grandmother before stretching plastic wrap over the top.

Then she started across the lawn toward Gilbert’s house. A hedge of Leyland cypress separated the two properties.

She had to admit that his yard looked so much fancier than hers. The landscaping was impeccable, and he had actual grass instead of weeds that were cut short to look like grass. And he even had Christmas lights strung around the house that made the place look festive.

Her house, on the other hand, was considerably smaller. She really needed to paint the exterior again as the yellow had begunto fade. Her flowerbeds looked plain, with just some shrubs but no flowers. She planned on changing that in the spring.

She simply spent most of her time as a teacher at school with the kids, grading papers, or preparing lesson plans. Since she wasn’t married, she could afford the extra time. She loved teaching both classic literature as well as theater.

She cut through the hedges, taking a shortcut to the front porch.

When she reached the concrete steps, she paused, hesitating a moment.

Did she really want to do this?

No, she didn’t. But she couldn’t turn back now.

She rang the doorbell and listened to the cheerful chime.

A moment later, heavy footsteps pounded, and the door opened.

She expected to see Gilbert.

Instead, Tex stood there.

Her throat went dry at the sight of him. She took a moment to soak in the details about his appearance. The changes he’d undergone in the past twelve years. His shoulders had broadened. His face had become more chiseled. He had the shadow of a beard across his cheeks, but his dark hair still had a touch of curl.

If possible, he was even more handsome than before.

“You came.” He sounded just as surprised as she felt.

She held up her salad and forced a smile. “Of course. Who am I to turn down a free dinner?”

Tex still had that hard look in his eyes. Was it hard? Or was it simply perceptive?

He clearly knew there was more going on with her. But Chelsea didn’t plan on telling him everything.

She didn’t know his character anymore. Didn’t know if she could trust him. Especially after he’d left without a trace.

The one thing she did know was that if she told the wrong person, it could be really bad for her. Dangerously bad.

“Come on in.” Tex opened the door farther.

Chelsea slipped inside, catching a whiff of Tex’s evergreen cologne as she did. She’d smelled it earlier also, but she’d been too frightened to really appreciate the scent.

Now the aroma was so alluring that she wanted to lean into him and enjoy it just a bit more.

But, of course, she’d never do that.

Tex gave her a quick once-over before offering an approving nod. “You’re looking good, Chelsea. It looks like the years have treated you well.”

She glanced at her jeans and red sweater.

Had the years treated her well?

She supposed she had nothing to complain about, especially when she considered others who had it much tougher than she did.

Others like Tex.

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