She put the last dab of glue on the candy canes and attached the tree. While that one dried, she gathered up the pictures, which she should have done earlier. She didn’t want anything to happen to them. Placing them safely on the top of the fridge, she opened the green paint to do another Christmas tree.
Her mind puzzled over how to do the snowflake lights in the picture. Plastic would melt, paper would burn…she needed little squares of glass and wood-cutouts. There was no way she could do that herself. And the lights were in every single picture. She wasn’t going to be able to do them.
Jillian would help her with the food. But still…the lights were central to the party’s theme.
At least Gator was fixing the floor.
Gator.
She sighed. Not a good sign.
Men leave. How many times did she have to live it to learn it? Her dad, her fiancé.
Gator was handsome, funny, and he was back to take care of his mom, but he’d leave too.
Plus, she had seen his first wife. Beautiful. And as opposite from Avery as she could be. He wouldn’t have to get tired of her to leave. He’d never be interested in the first place. Of course, he wanted a woman who could keep up with all his outdoor pursuits. Avery wasn’t outdoorsy, and never would be. Gator was probably looking for a clone of his first wife. Only younger, if Avery knew anything about men.
Still, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends. Until she left for D.C., anyway. If she got the chair. She had to think positively. She was going to get the chair. They would be friends, nothing more, until she left. This time, she would be the one leaving.
Setting the tree down to dry, she tried to concentrate. Thankfully, Ellie had called her back about the tree trimming contest and had made some suggestions. All she had to do tomorrow was march in the parade at 8:00. Then man the booth—whatever it was—for the mayor until twelve, then trim the tree with Gator.
Deciding that she needed to keep working, otherwise she’d never get done with the decorations, Avery sat back down at the table and picked up the glue bottle.
She’d been working for another thirty minutes when a knock on the kitchen door startled her. It opened before she could get up. Although common sense told her a thief or murderer wouldn’t knock first, Avery still slid her chair back, ready to grab Miss Prissypants and run.
“Hello the house.” Gator called out the traditional local greeting.
Avery’s heart jumped and kicked. “I’m right here,” she said. “Is your mom okay?”
“Hey. I talked to the nurse that comes before bed. She was fine and in bed a few hours ago. Just finished helping setting up things for the celebration tomorrow and I saw your light on down here.”
“Yeah. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day, but I need to get these party favors done.”
Gator stepped farther into the kitchen and leaned over the table, studying her decorations. “Party favors?”
“For the Christmas party at the barn.”
“I see.” He pulled a lip back.
“Go ahead. You can say it. You think it’s a waste of time.”
“I think it’s a waste of time.”
“That hurts.”
“You told me to say it.”
“I didn’t actually mean for you to say it.”
“Then don’t say to.”
“Well, that is what you were thinking.”
“Not gonna lie.” He touched the one picture that she had left on the table. The one that looked like the picture had been snapped accidentally, because it was a close-up of the glass-snowflake lights.
“You making those next?”
“I wish.” Avery put the glue down and leaned over to look at the picture too. The fresh scent of the outdoors and Gator’s own unique rugged scent reached her. She inhaled. “I can’t figure out how.”
“Glass and wood.”
“I know that much. But I can’t cut wood, and I have no idea where I could find glass that shape and size.”
“What size do you think they are?”
“Maybe four by four and six inches high?” Avery went to the fridge and pulled down the pile of pictures, sorting through until she found one with a person standing near the light. Looking at this…”
“Is that Fink and Ellie’s barn?” Gator asked.
“Yeah.” Avery didn’t want Gator to know she was doing this party for his mom. It might not work. It might not help her at all. It could even make her worse, if she got nostalgic or depressed about the past, rather than being cheered and encouraged, like Avery hoped. Gator might even think it was a dumb idea, like the decorations. She didn’t want to try to defend an idea she had been sure was brilliant a week ago, but now she wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking.
“Looks like before my time.”
Miss Prissypants strutted over and rubbed against Gator’s leg.
“Right around your time, I think.”
“I see. I think you’re right about the lights. Four-by-four-by-six.”
“Do you know where I could get pieces of glass that size?”
“No. But I’ll look into it.” He bent down and scooped her cat up. Miss Prissypants lolled in his arms like she had no bones at all.
“Really?” she said before she could close her mouth around that word. “Thanks.” Her cat acted like Gator picked her up all the time. “Miss Prissypants is not a mean cat, but she never lets anyone but me hold her like that.”
“Cats aren’t loyal like dogs are.”
Avery blinked. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yeah. I’m sure. My dogs will let you pet them, but there’s never any question that they like me best. They won’t listen to you.”
“I see. So, when they try to take bites out of me and I tell them to stop, they’ll eat me anyway?”
Gator looked at her from under his brows. He continued to stroke Miss Prissypants who was purring so loud Avery could hear her over the refrigerator condenser.
“You don’t really believe that my dogs are going to eat you?”
“Maybe not eat me, but I’m not convinced they won’t bite me.”
He continued to stroke Miss Prissypants. “I’m not a big cat guy, but I like your cat.” He looked up and smiled, the same smile that he’d used at the barn when she’d touched his face. It was a smile that said if she kept her fingers near his mouth, he’d be capturing and chewing on them. She let out a shaky breath. There was nothing scary about Gator chewing on her fingers.
She stared at his lips. Swallowing, she looked away. She had lost the thread of the conversation, and from the heated look in his eye, he knew it. Who would have known that a man holding her cat would be irresistibly sexy?
Right away, she knew it wasn’t just any man. Gator. Gator holding her cat was totally doing it for her. For some odd reason, that made her think that maybe, possibly, she could, if not make friends, at least call a truce with his dogs.
“Are you sure I won’t get bitten?”
“No.” Gator said.
“Then I’m not taking a chance.”
“Maybe you should walk on the wild side.”
“Maybe not.” She had thought they were talking about Gator’s dogs. But something in his expression—the way his eyes darkened and his brows drew together—suggested that maybe she had said the wrong thing.
“I think you’re right. It’s not a good idea at all.” He set Miss Prissypants down. “I’ll see you tomorrow at our booth.” He gave a short laugh. “I found out what booth you’re at tomorrow. Did anyone tell you?”
“No. I’ve been busy and haven’t asked.”
“It’s the dunking booth.”
Chapter Eight
She had volunteered to man the dunking booth.
In December.
What kind of fiendish town had a dunking booth at their Christmas celebration? One that was really twisted, if the long, long line of people at her booth was any indication.
Avery sat, shivering, on the end of the plank.
So far, the first three patrons who had put quarters in the slot—eight quarters for one ball, at least they weren’t going cheap—had not been able to throw the ball with enough force to push in the lever that dropped the plank, which would dunk her into the water. One little boy had hit the lever, but it hadn’t been enough to drop her. It was just a matter of time.
She wasn’t even wet, and she was shivering.
Had the mayor done this on purpose? She knew the town thought her odd because of the cat carrier, and possibly the tuba too. And maybe because she planted corn with full make-up and inch long nails. Possibly because she hung out with Jillian, who was regarded with just as much suspicion. Probably, though, she had ended up perched on the plank because she was new to town and as gullible as a two-year-old being offered candy.
The town probably thought her parents had kept her in a cage. It wasn’t really true, but she had been cooped up in her room most of her high school years practicing the tuba. Mediocracy didn’t land a woman a chair in a prestigious orchestra. Even at fifteen, she had known that. But now, at twenty-seven, she hadn’t enough street smarts to know when she was being bamboozled by a small-town mayor.
He’d acted all innocent about it, and if she recalled correctly, hadn’t even asked her outright. Just goaded her into offering by making her feel bad about the poor town and their great need for help. And insulting her intelligence by hinting that she couldn’t make change. The man was good.
They could at least heat the water.
“Why aren’t you wearing a bikini?” the teenaged boy who was next in line asked.
Because she’d thought she was going to be picking up rings from bottles and handing out teddy bears with pretty red Christmas ribbons on them. Not to mention, it was only forty degrees out. She’d have worn a wet suit if she’d have known, and if she’d had one. But, hey, she could be a good sport. Plus, she needed to distract him. He was the first one who looked like he had the brawn to get enough power under the ball to push the lever in.
“Your mother was bringing me hers.”
The kid behind him guffawed and smacked him on the shoulder just as he threw the ball. It went wide. Avery breathed a sigh of relief. Only two hours and fifty-five minutes of this torture left. It was not going to get better. Avery pulled her legs up to her chest and held her cold toes in her hand. Surely, this was illegal.
The next kid in line started to put his quarters in.
“Hold up.”
Avery jerked her head up as her heart sank. Gator. He had the power to slam the lever in. His aim was probably dead on too.
“Aw, man. It’s my turn,” the kid whined.
“You’ll get your turn, bud. I’m going out on the board.”
“You are?” Avery gasped.
“Unless you have some kind of weird cold-water fetish.”
“I don’t,” she said immediately.
He grinned. “Didn’t think so.”
She let go of her legs.
He nodded to his side. “You’ll have to hold my dogs.”
Her eyes went to the animals sitting calmly at his side. “You can just tell them to stay. They listen pretty good.”
Gator shrugged and started to turn away.
No! He couldn’t leave. “Um, Gator?” she called out.
“Yeah?” He glanced over his shoulder.
“Where are you going?”
“I wanted to help you out, but I can’t let my dogs roam wild. Someone told me it was illegal. Plus, I’ve also heard that the dog-catcher is a real jerk.”
Avery wilted on the board. The cold water inches from her feet mocked her.
She lifted her head as Gator started to walk away again. “Okay. I’ll hold them.”
He turned. One corner of his mouth lifted. “You don’t have to. I just wanted to see if you would.”
“You mean you’re not coming up here?”
“Stay,” he said to the dogs. He ducked under the rope and walked around the side of the tank. “I am. Hop down.”
She licked her dry lips as he dropped his jeans, revealing a black wet suit. “You really are helping me.”
“I figured you didn’t have a wet suit.”
“No.”
“It’s what everyone does. Doesn’t keep you warm, exactly, but it helps.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for next year.”
“They probably won’t ask you next year. Typically, they get a newcomer to town. Newbies will do anything to fit in, and, trust me, the town takes advantage of that big-time. I’d kind of forgotten that the night the mayor came in the office. The man’s good. I’ll give him that.”
“I see.”
“But usually, they have enough time to get themselves a suit. I knew last night you didn’t.”
“I’ve got one she can borrow. It’s in the attic at your mother’s house, honey.” Kristen stood at the edge of the rope.
Gator stiffened at the sound of her voice. “Slide back, Avery. I’ll help you down.”
“Don’t get off. You’re not even wet.” Kristen held a ball in her hand.
Avery hadn’t seen her put quarters in, not to mention she’d cut in line. She scooted back faster, hoping she didn’t end up with splinters in her butt. Splinters in her butt was preferable to being submerged in ice water. If they were going to make people be in a dunking booth in December, they really should give them a nicer place to sit.
Sliding her feet around behind her, Avery reached for the rungs with cold toes that felt more like blocks of wood than her normal, supple appendages. She had no idea how she’d ever get herself down the ladder.
What if she’d actually been dunked? When her tongue was no longer frozen to the roof of her mouth, she’d have to ask if anyone had ever died at the dunking booth. She was guessing not, but one could never be certain. Maybe the mayor was also the town lawyer.
Strong fingers gripped her foot and guided it to the ladder, holding it steady as she backed down. Her knees shook so hard, she wasn’t sure she would stay on. She held the sides of the ladder as tightly as her frozen fingers would allow.
Large hands gripped her waist, pulling, and she let go with relief, allowing Gator to ease her body down his. His big arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her into his warmth, although she was shaking so hard he had to press to hold her against him.
“You stay there and warm her up. I’ll sit on the plank for a while.” Kristen brushed past them, saying something about a wimp and climbed the ladder.
Avery watched, a little stunned. She turned her head up and asked against Gator’s chin, “She has a wet suit on? Is there something about this whole Christmas celebration that I’ve missed?”
“Nah. She’s probably doing the lumberjack competition.”
“You need a wet suit for that?”
“Not really. But there is a part where you walk across logs on the water. You can still win if you fall in, but even with all the exercise, you get cold.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. He probably thought she was a huge baby, shivering and cold, too much of a wimp to sit on that plank any longer. She supposed she should have insisted on sitting there until hell froze over, which wasn’t going to take long. And of course, it had to be Kristen that showed her up. Hard to figure it was anything but purposeful.
“You warming up?” Gator’s voice, soft and low and right beside her ear, caused her to shiver. “Guess not,” he said and she could hear the smile in his voice.
“I’m better. I’m kicking myself for not being stronger.” She eyed his dogs as they came around the tank, but at Gator’s command they stopped and lay down a few feet off.
“I’m not an expert, but I think one of the things that men like about women is that every once in a while, we get to rescue them. It makes us feel manly and needed.”
Avery stood still, his arms around her. Was he insulting Kristen? “Are you saying I make you feel ‘manly and needed’?” The idea that a tough guy like Gator would need her to make him feel good
would make her laugh if her teeth weren’t chattering so hard.
But after a few seconds of silence, his answer was low and sincere. “Yeah.”
Her entire body heated with the warm, comfortable, and unfamiliar feeling of being taken care of. She loved the idea that she was making him feel good too.
After a moment of that, though, the modern woman in her bristled at the implication. “You like it when women are bumbling and incompetent because it makes you feel like a jock?”
She felt, more than heard, him sigh. Like she’d let him down. Maybe she’d jumped to the easy conclusion. After all, she liked it when Gator looked at her like she was good enough to eat, but she didn’t want to be regarded as a sex object. That didn’t really make sense. She could hardly expect him to be totally reasonable when, Lord knew, she wasn’t.
A shout and a splash interrupted her musings. To her shame, knowing how cold the water was, she grinned anyway. Bigly.
Gator’s voice contained a smile when he whispered in her ear, “Sounds like Kristen got wet.”
She snuggled deeper in his arms. Her mind might say that she needed to be strong, but the rest of her was enjoying every second of having this man’s solid arms around her, taking care of her.
“That should have been me.” She sighed.
The dogs lifted their heads at the noise, but didn’t get up.
“It was going to be me. She volunteered.” He paused. “I might have to donate a few dollars to the cause.”
“Is that passive-aggressive behavior toward your ex?”
“Nope. It’s pure aggressive. Not pretending anything else.”
“You two have a complicated relationship.” Water splashed behind them as Kristen got out of the water.
“Not really. We don’t have a relationship at all. This is the first I’ve seen her in years.”
“Does she have family in town?” The dogs didn’t look as ferocious when they were sleeping. Avery relaxed even more into Gator’s heat.
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