Page 290 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

Jack and Maisie exchanged another look and burst out laughing.

“Oh, you two,” Dottie said, waving a hand. “Come on now. I need to get home so I can consult the books before I go to bed.”

It seemed a pointless endeavor to ask which books. Undoubtedly they were wholly unscientific.

“Goodnight, Jack,” Maisie said, wanting to touch him but feeling a little unsure of herself.

He studied her for a moment, then got to his feet and pulled her into a hug, those strong arms of his wrapping around her in a way that made her eyes prickle.

Oh God, did she have tears in her eyes? What was wrong with her?

“Goodnight, Red,” he said softly. And if the tears hadn’t been there before, that was enough to put them there. No one called her that anymore, and yet it felt strangely right coming from him. Almost like her father was telling her that he approved.

You’ve really lost it now. You’re starting to think like Dottie talks.

But as she walked toward the car with Dottie, she couldn’t help but look back. Jack waved to them from the door, and a sentimental part of her was happy to see it.

Once they were in the car, she expected Dottie to launch into some sort of lecture about the stars, but instead Dottie was silent for a few minutes. Finally, she said, “You know, there was a time when I thoughtyouwere going to marry my River.”

And Maisie almost sideswiped a parked car.

Heart pounding, she said, “Crap. Dottie, don’t say things like that while I’m driving.”

Dottie chuckled softly. “The universe has a beautiful way of working things out, doesn’t it? You were meant to join the Buchanan family all along.”

“Are you talking about Lee?” Maisie said in disgust. “Trust me, I can tell he’s not my type, and vice versa.”

“No, I’m talking about Jack.”

Which nearly led to another sideswipe. God, couldn’t Dottie have waited for this heart-to-heart?

“Jack has made it very clear he isn’t looking for a relationship right now.”

“Oh, my dear, we’re so rarely looking for the things we need.”

There was a pulse of truth to that, so much so that she didn’t question Dottie further, and they sat in contemplation of those words until Maisie pulled up to the little purple house where everything had changed for her. Twice.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Come on, Jack,” Iris said. “It’s for the dogs.”

“Tell me again why the dogs care if I wear a fluffy piece of polyester on my face?” he asked, standing in a small walk-in closet at the shelter.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a Santa beard.”

“Nooo…,” he drawled, tugging at the itchy prop strapped to his face. “It’s a torture device.”

“To-may-to, To-mah-to.”

But it wasn’t Iris’s voice.

He glanced over his shoulder at Maisie, who stood in the doorway watching in amusement. “Exactly how many people have worn this thing?”

She started ticking off her fingers. “River. Finn. Dustin—”

“Dustin? The guy who lives off blue cheese Danishes?” he asked in a panic.

“He never eats them while he’s wearing the beard,” Maisie said. A wicked smile teased her lips. “At least not that I know of. But the dogs were especially fond of him the last time he wore it. It could have been the cheese.”

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