Falling For Christmas: an Angel's Lake novella

by Jody Holford

  Falling for Christmas

  Jody Holford

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2019 Jody Holford

  All Rights Reserved

  Kindle Edition

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The author gratefully acknowledges all trademarks used or alluded to.

  Dedication

  To Nicole

  The best gifts, any time of the year, are unconditional kindness, support & encouragement. Thank you for giving me those.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  More from Angel’s Lake

  Forever Christmas - Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Also by Jody Holford

  The happiest couples never have the same character.

  They just have the best understanding of their differences.

  ~sumnanquotes.com

  Chapter One

  The perfect sucker. That’s all it would to take for Georgia Meyers to close the distance between her newcomer status and the tight-knit community of Angel’s Lake. She rubbed her mitten-clad hands together, surveying the pretty table she’d dressed in gingham patterned cloth. Her delicious treats, an array of suckers, hard and soft candies, taffy, and gift-wrapped options, further decorated the table.

  Soon, live music would play through the speakers instead of the festive playlist currently on repeat through the square. Vendors were locked table to table, each offering samples, specials, and holiday deals. The atmosphere was busy but upbeat. Georgia smiled at the other business owners, giving a small wave to a couple across the way from her table. Oh, they were polite but she hadn’t yet breached the barrier to become one of them. She’d hoped her cousin Anna would bridge that gap but she was currently on bed rest with her second child. Her husband, Sam, was wrangling their two-year-old, Seth, so he hadn’t been around much either.

  Rolling her shoulders, she filled a basket with tree shaped suckers to give away. She’d bridge her own gaps, make her own connections, find her own way. It was about time for her to do that anyway. At almost thirty, she’d left a life of one poor choice after another behind. This was her fresh start.

  Weaving through the thickening crowd, she smiled at strangers, asked parents if it was okay for their child to have a treat. She gave the adults one as well. The more she gave away, the more she’d pull people into her shop. She hoped. She might not have a lot of confidence in her decision-making skills based on the last year but she was sure of her recipes. Sweet Georgia would be a success. She’d poured every last dollar, most of which she’d borrowed, into it.

  “Would you like one?” Georgia asked a dark haired, wide-eyed little girl. She looked to be about seven or eight. Not that she was the best judge of age—she lost her last job for not carding what she’d thought was a woman well over twenty-one. Oops.

  The little girl turned her head in Georgia’s direction but didn’t meet her gaze. “I’m not allowed to take candy from strangers.”

  “Oh.” Georgia frowned, locked gazes with the woman behind the little girl.

  “Thank you. I’ll take one and let her have it later,” the mom said. She had dark hair like her daughter, dark eyes, and her fresh-make up free face was rosy from the wind.

  “You’re not supposed to take candy from strangers either. It’s a rule.”

  Mom patted the girl’s shoulder, smiling at Georgia. “I know, honey.”

  She nodded at Georgia and steered her daughter through the crowd. Chatting with strangers was fairly easy, even before her life fell apart. She liked people, socializing, learning about others. It was one of the things that had made her good at her bartending jobs. Ahead of her, a burly, dark haired Santa, sans hat and beard, laughed too loud, attempting to execute an awkward two-step.

  Moving up onto the curb, Georgia tried to slip past him but he swung at the same time, bringing them face-to-face. Pulling the basket up between them with both hands, she smiled.

  “Oops. Careful there, Santa.”

  Santa’s blurry gaze narrowed, moving up and down Georgia’s frame. Not that he could see anything—she was wearing a freaking parka. Minnesota was cold.

  “Mm,” Santa mumbled, making it a multisyllable sound. “I like sugar.”

  He reached for one of the treats. Instinct had Georgia pulling her basket back but she still plucked a sucker from the bunch and held it out.

  “How about just one?”

  Santa crowded her space and though she was surrounded by people, she felt isolated in his presence. Her skin prickled from her hairline to her toes. She was about to tell him to back up and off—the bar had given her hands-on experience in that, too—when he reached beyond her basket, using both hands to yank her hips against his, scrunching the wicker between them.

  A couple of people protested, stepped forward but Georgia’s instincts took over.

  “How about you give me some of your sugar,” Santa said, fingers digging into her skin, even through the lined jacket.

  Georgia leaned in instead of away, brought her knee up, connected firmly and watched Santa slump forward, grab himself, groan, and collapse.

  A uniformed officer shoved through the small circle of people, taking in the sight. Great. Just how she wanted to meet local law enforcement. Though, she knew there could be worse ways. As much as she wanted to succeed in this town, she was laying low right now for a reason.

  “What’s going on here? Davey, what the hell did you do?” The officer, who could have been distracting if Georgia wasn’t over men in general, said. His dark hair matched his equally dark eyes. His gaze was serious, all-seeing; assessing. His stance, along with his significant height, added to his presence.

  “I didn’t do nothing. She was offering treats. I asked for one. She kicked me in the jingle berries.”

  A few titters sounded around them but Georgia was still too incensed to find amusement.

  “He accosted me, grabbed me by the waist and yanked me into him,” she said, stepping back, wanting nothing more than to be invisible. Funny, a half hour ago, she was wishing to draw a crowd. Not like this, though.

  “Ma’am, are you alright?” Officer Brown Eyes held her still with just a look.

  Her heartrate fluttered, a warning signal she was happy to heed. “I’m fine.”

  “He grabbed her, Cam. You ought to put him in the tank for the night,” an older Asian man said from behind his table.

  “Thanks, Mr. Lee. I’ll take statements if I need to.”

  Statements. Cops. Trouble. That wasn’t lying low. She was supposed to be forging a new lif
e, not repeating her old bad habits—making a name for herself in all of the wrong ways. Georgia wasn’t even aware that her feet were shuffling backward, seeking escape.

  Another officer appeared, his uniform matching the first. His mouth was set in a more severe line as he looked down at Santa Davey. She’d forgotten that everyone knew everyone in small towns. She was the outsider even if Santa should have kept his mitts to himself.

  “I want to press charges. I may never have kids,” Santa yelled as he rolled to his knees.

  “Then she did the world a favor. Shut up, Davey,” the other officer said.

  More people gathered and despite the temperature, sweat dotted Georgia’s hairline. Everyone was looking at her, murmuring, commenting. Her body nudged others out of the way.

  Like he knew she was withdrawing, the cop’s attention zeroed in on her, his eyes widening a second before she tumbled onto her butt.

  Something sharp dug into her hand as candy went everywhere. Instead of aiming for dignified, Georgia chose the road less traveled.

  She shut her eyes and whispered, “Pretend I’m not here.”

  A light chuckle brushed over her skin. If she opened her eyes, she knew he’d be right in front of her.

  “Ma’am?”

  Georgia opened one eyelid. Yup. Crouched down, right in front of her.

  “Georgia,” she whispered. “My name is Georgia.”

  “My name is Cam. Deputy Cam Andrews. Can I help you up, Georgia?”

  She shook her head. She’d been standing on her own two feet since she was seventeen. She wasn’t about to stop now.

  Cam watched the indecision play out on the adorable, raven-haired beauty’s face. She stole another glance at him through thick, dark lashes, those full lips turning into a frown as she got to her feet. Without his assistance. He picked up the candies that had fallen, putting them into the basket she dropped. He handed it to her, noticed her wince as she clasped it in her hand.

  “You okay?”

  She turned her palm up to show the abrasions on her skin. Without thinking, he reached out, took her hand in both of his.

  “We should clean this up.”

  Georgia—what a gorgeous name—pulled her hand back. “I’ll head back to my shop and do that. I need a new basket anyway. I’m fine. Thanks for your help, Officer.”

  He met her gaze. “Cam.”

  From the corner of his eye, he caught the situation with Davey escalating. Elliot had it under control but this wasn’t a great start to the Lighting of the Lampposts—the second annual holiday kickoff.

  “You got crowd control? I’m going to take him in. He smells like the barroom floor.”

  Davey, who often caused a scene, started shouting obscenities.

  Cam waved. “All good.”

  Before Georgia could slip away, not that the growing crowd was making that easy, he put a hand on her arm.

  “I’ll need to get your statement.”

  An announcer tapped the mic set up over by the huge speakers. “We’ll be bringing out the Angel’s Lake Elementary choir in just ten minutes, folks.”

  Cam glanced toward the makeshift stage then back at Georgia. He’d heard about the new business owner in the square but he hadn’t met her yet. Rumor was, Anna Meyers was her cousin. Cam knew Anna. Small towns meant most people knew everyone else. In his case, Anna’s husband was good friends with Cam’s boss, the Sheriff. At large gatherings, they’d crossed paths more than a few times.

  “I really need to get back to handing out samples,” Georgia said, bringing Cam out of his musings.

  “You shouldn’t leave that hand,” he said. His lips turned down. Clearly, she didn’t want, or need, his assistance but he couldn’t escape the pull he felt to assist her in whatever way she’d allow.

  “It’s just a scrape. Honestly, I’m good. You should go back to protecting and serving. Make sure there aren’t anymore Santa’s getting a little too merry.”

  He smiled, curious about her behavior. Was she nervous? Cam couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a genuine interest stir through his entire being the way it did for Georgia. Not that he’d follow up on it. The minute he decided to transfer things from official to personal, his brain glitched. He became incapable of coherent speech. It was embarrassing.

  Best to keep it official or he wouldn’t get more time to talk to the sweet maker.

  “Really, I need to take your statement.”

  She assured people who asked that she was fine as they walked through the crowd, up onto the sidewalk and in the direction of her store. He hadn’t been inside since it was a small sandwich shop a few years back. It had sat empty for a while but he knew through the grapevine that Anna’s husband, Sam, helped Georgia fix the place up.

  “It looks great in here,” Cam said. The walls were pale pink with black swirls dancing halfway down, like a painted chair rail. There were three small tables with mismatched chairs that added to the ambiance. The display case was full of mouth-watering treats in all sizes and colors. She’d done a lot in very little time.

  “Thank you. It’s been a lot of work but it’s coming along.” Her tone had a stiffness that made Cam wonder if she was wary of him or cops in general.

  Putting the counter between them, she set her basket down, glanced at her hand once, then tucked it in her pocket.

  “I’d like to get back out there before it gets any busier. What do you need from me?”

  A variety of thoughts collided in Cam’s head. Ones he wouldn’t say. Probably ever. He wished, in that moment, he had Elliot’s easy-going confidence or the Sheriff’s way with words.

  Pulling a notebook out of his pocket, he flipped it open. “Just a couple of details. That’s all I need.”

  Maybe not. But it was all he’d get.

  Chapter Two

  Angel’s Lake was hardly a hub of crime but the eight deputies and their Sheriff kept busy. The phone in the station rang relentlessly and as Elliot ribbed Cam about not having a date, he wished they’d get called out.

  “Leave him alone, Peters,” Alex Whitman, the Sheriff in their town, called from behind his desk. He typically left his door open. The relaxed nature of the station could switch on a dime but it didn’t look like Cam was going to catch that break today.

  “What? I’m just trying to help him out. Kate’s got a new employee at the dress shop. She’s been in town for a few months, seems nice, she’s pretty and funny. Cam could use some fun.”

  “I have plenty of fun,” Cam shot back, looking down at the paperwork on his desk.

  “Not solo fun, dude.”

  Elliot ducked when Cam threw a crumpled piece of paper at him, then walked away chuckling.

  “My great-grand daddy never married or dated again after he lost his wife. Once you find one and lose them, sometimes there just isn’t another,” Dolores, the blue-haired, eighties-dressing, senior who ran the phones and front desk said. She was also Alex’s stepmother technically but most of them forgot that connection when they were doing their best to avoid her “helpful” advice.

  “Nothing wrong with being alone as long as you’re happy. You leave him alone, Elliot,” Dolores said. She patted her blue hair, like she was reassuring herself not one strand had escaped its hairs-sprayed confines.

  Cam groaned, resisting the urge to smack his head down on his desk. It wasn’t even eight a.m. It was going to be a long day.

  Alex strolled out of his office. He didn’t wear a uniform like the rest of them. Being in charge had its perks. Cam didn’t mind the uniform though. He would never share this with anyone but putting it on gave him a sense of confidence he didn’t carry with him otherwise.

  “Not to add insult to injury but we’re having a potluck staff party at our place next Friday. Lucy’s parents have the kids for the night. Everyone can bring their significant others.” Alex shrugged when he looked at Cam.

  When did being single become an affliction? He could get a damn date if he wanted one. Right. You’d ha
ve to talk to a woman out of uniform to do it. Life had been easier in high school. He might be the only person on earth who thought so but he’d had a steady high school sweetheart. He’d never had to worry about showing up to parties alone. Not that he was much of a partier. Maybe if you had been, she would have waited for you. She hadn’t. She’d found someone else shortly after he went into the Marines. They’d written letters back and forth for months but it wasn’t until he came home, planning to propose, that she’d told him.

  “I’m going to tell Kate to bring Serena. That’s her employee.” Elliot sat down at his own desk as he made the announcement.

  Alex rolled his eyes. “It’s a staff party.”

  “And significant others,” Elliot said.

  “She’s no one’s significant other,” Alex said, his tone an understated growl.

  Dolores murmured something into the phone then hung up. “We’ve got a vandalism call—”

  Her words died when Cam sprung up out of his chair. “I’ll take it.”

  He’d take whatever he could get. As long as it got him out of the station.

  Georgia refused to cry. Tears wouldn’t wash off the paint splattered in dark letters across her storefront window.

  “I called the police,” Mr. Lee said.

  “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” She wished he hadn’t. All she wanted to do was scrub it off, go about her day. A few new customers had visited the store in the couple days following the event the other night. Georgia was hopeful that, slow and steady, she’d increase her sales and visibility. It was Christmas time; the perfect time to open a candy store.