Page 16 of Secret Santas and Holiday Dances

“I changed my mind. They’re great,” she said, a note of exasperation in her tone.

Okay, either Grace was losing it or she’d been abducted and body swapped—only possible explanations. He was leaning towards the former. If the paper was to be believed, she’d delivered a Secret Santa gift every day since the beginning of the month. She needed a break. She needed to go to Emma’s dance with him—and he had five days to convince her. “I want to talk to you about something—”

The bell for the front door chimed, and she glanced over his shoulder, a look of panic crossing her face. She looked at him, clenching her hands at her sides. “My mother’s in town, and—”

“Liam?” Came the familiar voice of Charlotte Scott from behind him.

He half-turned as she approached them. Well, he hadn’t been expecting to see her again. “Charlotte, still in town, I see. What a pleasant surprise. I thought you were leaving after the barn dance.”

She chuckled. “I thought about it, but changed my mind.” She looked him up and down—man was this woman blatant. “Appears Harvest Ranch does have a lot to offer.”

“Well,” he said, “Choco-Latte is famous for their peppermint hot chocolate.”

Grace stumbled around her desk, her pretty pink lips hanging open in an “o” shape. “You . . . you two know each other?”

Liam pointed from one woman to the other. “Youknow each other?”

Charlotte unbuttoned the top button on her coat. “I should hope so. I am her mother after all.”

Whoa, what? Liam shot a gaze between Charlotte and Grace, taking in their appearances. It finally hit him why Charlotte had looked so familiar. Same cheek bones, same pale complexion, same big eyes and long lashes, same stature and build. They had different hair colors, different eye colors, different lips, and ways of dressing and doing their makeup—Grace liked to keep it simple, Charlotte didn’t—and on top of it all, Charlotte was so young looking, he hadn’t put it together, but now he could see the family resemblance. He lifted a brow at Grace, asking, is she?

Grace nodded. “Liam, this is my mother. Charlotte, this is my friend Liam.”

“Now, Grace, really.” Charlotte shook her finger at Grace. “I’m your mother.” She turned to Liam. “I taught her to honor her mother and father, but she’s always been so independent and modern.”

Liam was confused. He never would’ve taken Grace for someone who’d call their parent by their name just because it was the in thing to do. She’d always been nothing but proper and respectful—but parent/child relationships were so different for everyone. Individual dynamics could be impossible to understand if you weren’t a part of them.

Ah. Reason three why Grace was acting weird: her mom was in town.

Grace shook her head, like she was clearing it of a fog, and nodded. “Sorry, mother . . .?”

“I never would’ve guessed you have a grown daughter,” Liam said.

“I was a young mother.” Charlotte’s gaze honed in on Grace’s fingers. “Grace, why are your nails so dirty?”

Grace stared at her charcoaled nails, then put her hands behind her back. “It’s nothing, just charcoal.”

“Charcoal? Why on earth?” Charlotte quirked a brow.

Grace changed the subject. “How did you two meet?”

Charlotte winked at Liam. “He bought me a drink at the barn dance.”

Liam chuckled. The water had been free. “Right, Mr. Big Spender here.”

Grace stepped closer to her mother. “You went to the barn dance?”

Charlotte nodded. “They never had anything of the like when I was a teen growing up here. Maybe Harvest Ranch isn’t as dull as it used to be.”

Liam wasn’t sure he liked Harvest Ranch being described as dull, but he’d known women like Charlotte before—they said a lot of things to get a reaction out of people, test them by pushing buttons. He kept a friendly expression.

Grace took another step closer to her mother. “You’ve been here since Friday and you didn’t tell me?”

Liam’s gaze darted between the women as he contemplated whether he needed to make a run for it.

Charlotte swiped a hand through the air. “I was staying in Charlottesville. I drove in on a whim, but went back Friday night and didn’t come back until this morning. I’ll be staying with your Aunt Sophie. Now, I’m starving. Are you joining us for lunch, Liam? I have tons of funny stories about Grace.”

Liam nodded—stories about Grace? Insight into her past? Yes, please. “You’re on, the juicer the stories the better,” he said, but froze when Grace’s expression went from panicked to placid in a split second. “Unless you prefer to have lunch alone?”

---