Keeping Christmas

by Rebecca Blevins

  They waited, Paige trying to look everywhere but at Wes. The old wallpaper, covered in green stripes and roses, was in pretty good shape. The carpet? Not so much. The mottled green was threadbare in spots, showing cracked linoleum underneath. Paige focused on a lovely painting of a pastoral scene. Apple blossoms nearly burst from the frame. “How beautiful!” she murmured.

  “That’s one of Rachel’s. She’s really talented.”

  “Who’s Rachel?” Paige asked.

  “She runs this place. Was supposed to go to art school, but when her grandma had a stroke, Rachel stepped in. Now she runs it by herself.”

  Paige didn’t miss how his eyes smiled when he talked about her. “That was very altruistic. Will she ever get to go?”

  “I hope so. She deserves to be happy more than anyone I know.” As if realizing he’d shared too much, Wes busied himself with his phone.

  Rachel had already made quite the impression on Paige, and she hadn’t even met her yet. But a girl who made the close-lipped deputy open up like that? Well, she had to be interesting.

  Paige took her phone out too, needing a distraction. In close quarters, it was hard for her not to be aware of Wes. He smelled of pine and the outdoors, and she struggled not to breathe too deeply. How embarrassing it would be if he caught her smelling him.

  She had been lost in Michael's Instagram photos—mostly pictures taken with pretty women on his international travels—for a few minutes when Wes spoke. "She's not answering her texts, either. Can't say I'm surprised."

  Paige shoved her phone in her pocket as Wes pushed the bell again. The only thing that had changed since he’d first pushed it was the timing of the thumping beats. Different song.

  "Wait here." Wes opened a door to the left of the counter, which Paige had missed since he'd been blocking her view of it, and disappeared up the stairs. His squeaky steps traveled all the way to the floor above.

  After a few banging sounds, the faint thumping stopped. Paige heard footsteps and low voices. Wes came down first, followed by a young woman with fiery red hair tumbling about her shoulders. She wore an Of Monsters and Men band T-shirt and yawned and stretched. Knotted bracelets covered her wrists; Paige guessed homemade.

  After another huge yawn, the girl rubbed her eyes and plopped down on the chair behind the counter. "I'm sorry! It takes me forever to wake up. Especially when I'm dead asleep."

  Asleep? With how loud that music must have been? Paige hoped the girl never had a house catch fire in the middle of the night.

  Rachel looked at Paige, and her blue eyes widened. "Wow, you have great bone structure!" She squinted, studying Paige’s face. “Ever been painted?"

  Paige was a bit bewildered. "You mean, like a portrait?"

  Rachel leaned forward on the counter, resting her chin in her hand. "Yup, I meant like a portrait. I've been painting people lately.”

  Wes shook his head. “Now, Rachel—”

  She waved a hand at Wes. “Oh, calm down. I’m not going to haul out the paints just yet.” She addressed Paige again. “I only got to go to art school for a year after I graduated, but someday, I'm going back. Then I'll travel the world and paint as much of it as I can."

  “Rachel," Wes said, tapping the logbook, “can we get Paige a room, please?” Paige noticed how his face softened when he spoke to the girl. "And she knows about your painting. I already told her what a wonderful artist you are.” Wes indicated the art on the wall. “Full of talent.”

  Rachel laughed. "Full of something, anyway. Quit bragging on me, Wes." She went to a drawer and took out a key. "Paige, if you like, I'll take you to your room right now."

  Wes spoke up. "It’s not bragging if it's true. And it is." He handed Paige her suitcase. "I have to get back to the courthouse, but I’ll need your phone number."

  Paige's jaw dropped open. She closed her mouth and composed herself before arching an eyebrow and saying, "Oh, you do?" If he thought she was interested in him after this whole fiasco, he had another thing coming.

  She was shocked to see a twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, if you want the list of food for tomorrow.”

  Paige wondered how much more heat her cheeks could handle before they burst into flames. She put her number into his phone, then handed it back.

  He pocketed it and said, “I’ll send the list to you within the next hour or two. Meet you next door tomorrow morning? Let’s say . . . seven?”

  “Seven works.”

  Wes flashed a smile at her, inclined his head, and left. A few butterflies flitted in her stomach. Dang it all, if she didn’t feel like he’d just asked her on a date. And strangely, she wasn’t repulsed by the idea, even if he was effectively her jailer. Seeing him a little more like a normal guy had been nice, and—oh, what was she even thinking like that for? She was about to go out with Michael. High school crush Michael. And Wes only saw her as a lawbreaker anyway.

  “This way,” Rachel said. Paige followed her through a side door and down a short hall into a small bedroom. The carpet was worn here too, but not as much, and while everything wasn't new, it appeared clean.

  "Need anything?" Rachel asked.

  Paige shook her head. "I don't think so, but thank you."

  Rachel glanced at her watch. “It’s just about dinnertime. We only serve breakfast and lunch next door, but if you’re hungry, I could find something.”

  Paige didn’t want to be more of a bother than she was sure she already was. “I’m only a little hungry. This whole situation took away a lot of my appetite. I have some boller—Norwegian sweet rolls—in my car. I’ll just get a few of those.”

  “Tell you what,” Rachel said, hands on hips. “I know you’ve been through an ordeal. Wes told me about it. And I’d venture to guess that your brake light isn’t even out, if I know Sheriff Carlston.”

  Paige raised her eyebrows. “What?”

  “I’d check those lights, if I were you. Why don’t you go get a few of those rolls, and I’ll bring some things to your room. Meet me back here in ten, okay?” She handed Paige the key.

  Normally, Paige would have balked at being ordered around, but there was something about Rachel that drew her in. She had a feeling that if they lived near each other, they’d become good friends. “All right. Thanks.”

  By the time Paige got back to her room, she was fuming. She’d gassed up her car, and even though snowflakes blew everywhere, she’d asked a man filling his tank to check her brake light while she pushed the pedal.

  Rachel had been right. Her brake light was fine. The sheriff had abused his powers in a ploy to keep her in town. But what could she do? She had been speeding, pretty significantly. And as far as her “bribing” him, it was his word against hers. She would have to make the best of her situation, like it or not.

  Paige set the boller container down hard on the small table, venting some of her frustration. Someone knocked on the door. She opened it to find Rachel beaming, presenting a tray of cheese, crackers, olives, and a few wrapped Christmas chocolates, all while holding a bottle of cola under her arm. “Will this work?”

  Paige’s anger drained away as she laughed and took the tray. “It’ll be fine.” She set down the tray and turned on the TV as Rachel opened the bottle. They both stared at the TV, mesmerized, as Santa fell off Tim Allen’s roof.

  “Hey,” Paige said. “Want to watch with me? Having a party by yourself isn’t much fun.” She motioned to the tray. “Especially with a spread like this. And I’m too aggravated to eat alone anyway. You were right about the brake light.”

  Rachel frowned at the news. “I was afraid of that. I’m sorry, Paige. And if you’re really sure you want the company, I’ll be happy to stay.”

  Paige assured her she did, and Rachel ran to get another cup to join the one already in the room, along with two plates. They watched TV, and ate, and talked. Wes finally texted Paige the food list, and she and Rachel talked it over. While Rachel wasn’t a trained chef, she had some good instincts. Paige was grateful to have so
meone toss ideas around with.

  It was late after the second movie finished, so Rachel gathered up the tray things. “Thanks. It’s not often I get to do anything with a friend, and this was lots of fun.”

  Paige felt the same way. “I needed this, so thank you. I’m feeling a little better about missing my family tomorrow now.”

  Rachel smiled in understanding. "I’ll see you early. I’m cooking breakfast at seven, but that's probably why Wes is meeting you then. He eats at the Hole a few times a week."

  "The Hole?" Paige asked.

  "Yup. Grandpa used to call the diner that, and it stuck. 'Go to the Hole for a whole lotta good food.' Not official like with a sign or anything, but everyone around here calls it the Hole."

  "Sounds good. See you then!”

  Rachel left, and Paige collapsed on the blue bedspread. She still had to call her mother to let her know she wasn't coming until tomorrow, and that meant another twenty or so minutes before she could go to sleep. Her eyes could hardly stay open. Hopefully, she could make it that long.

  Oh, shoot. Tomorrow, she'd have to call Michael to postpone their date. With any luck, he wouldn't think she was putting him off. She groaned and plugged the phone in next to the bed, then called her mother.

  Chapter Six

  Wes hunched his shoulders in the gust of wind, snowflakes swirling around him. He wasn't sure what to think about this girl coming in and putting together a whole Christmas dinner for the town, no matter what she said she did for a living or how good her rolls had smelled. Sure, she'd be a godsend for Higgins, but for some reason, he felt like this Paige Sorensen complicated things.

  Could've gotten herself killed trying to get home for—what? Family was important, but she had to go on and on about Christmas and her family traditions. She was just another one of those flighty girls who lived for puppies and glitter and flying reindeer. What did it matter if he found her attractive?

  Huh.

  He found her attractive.

  Well, it wasn't his fault that she had those big brown eyes, the type a man could get himself lost in. But he couldn't afford to be thinking that way. Not again. He'd learned his lesson.

  Wes slid into his old Ford and turned the key in the ignition, heater already going at full blast. His truck wasn’t fancy, but she worked well. All she needed was the basics to be in top-notch shape. Same as having a decent meal or helping out the less fortunate—it was the day-to-day things that mattered. Not some fancy holiday where people felt bad when they didn't have presents to give their kids. Moms still got hit by semis. People you love still leave, even at Christmas.

  People like Katherine.

  No, he wouldn't go there. He’d finally started healing the last few months, and he could even glimpse the possibility of finding happiness with someone—someday. For now, he’d make the cursed holiday happy for others and try to forget about himself, because Christmas brought him nothing but sadness and bad memories. He just needed to hold on and get through the next two weeks.

  He was getting tired of being alone. Maybe after Christmas was over, he should do something about that. Only thing was to figure out what. His buddy William had been needling him to join the bowling league. Maybe he should consider it.

  Wes drove out of the Stay Inn's parking lot and a mile down the highway, just past the edge of town. He found himself thinking about Paige’s expression when Skip told her she’d be staying. He chuckled as he turned off onto a gravel road and wound around the curved path through the trees until he reached his house. There. Simple house, simple yard, simple dog.

  He got out and greeted Newton, who only raised his head off the porch, eyes reflecting the porch light. "Lazy bum." Wes chuckled, then went inside and warmed his hands over the wood-burning stove.

  It might not be too bad. After all, the girl would only be in town for a day. Plus, so many people hurtled down that stretch of highway so fast, someone was bound to get killed one of these years. Wouldn't be a bad idea to teach someone a lesson.

  Even if that someone had the prettiest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday, December 19th

  Paige's phone alarm went off. She swiped it to "snooze" for another five minutes and snuggled back into her pillow. But the stuffing didn’t squish like normal. She flipped over and hugged her blankets closer. They were too light and thin. She opened her eyes and blinked for a few seconds until it dawned on her—quite literally, as the lightening sky outside her window proclaimed—that she wasn't at her apartment or at her parents' house, but in Higgins. The cozy room tempted her to stay in bed and watch the sun rise through her window. But Wes would be expecting her shortly

  And she had a ton of food to cook.

  She pulled on a T-shirt and jeans, then took her apron out of the suitcase, folded it as small as she could, and put it in her purse. She never went on a trip without bringing one, since she couldn't stay away from the stove for long. She brushed on a little blush and lip gloss so she wouldn't seem so pale, and swept on a bit of mascara. Her blonde lashes made her eyelids appear bald if she didn’t wear makeup.

  Someone knocked on the door. Paige swung it open to find Rachel, wearing another band T-shirt—The Lumineers. “I’m so sorry for knocking while you’re getting ready, but I need to get over to the diner and wanted to invite you to have breakfast. On me." Her smile lit up the doorway. “How’d you sleep?

  Paige yawned. “Thanks! I’d love breakfast. I slept well, but not long enough. This place is so charming!" She meant it, too. The night before after Paige had talked to her mother, she’d gone to sleep in a bad mood. She couldn’t blame her mother for being upset that she’d gotten into this predicament. But this morning felt fresh and new, and she was resigned to her fate.

  "I’m so glad. It’s pretty awesome. Well, we open in fifteen minutes, and I'm making pumpkin pecan praline pancakes. Wes calls them 'Triple Threatcakes.'"

  “Ooh, those sound divine!” Paige’s mouth watered.

  Rachel winked, then left the room.

  Somehow, the thought of Wes nicknaming pancakes didn't mix with the image Paige had of him. She wondered what had happened to make him so guarded. But then again, it took her a while to warm up to strangers, so she'd be the last person to judge.

  She put her elbow-length hair in a ponytail, wound it around, and secured the bun with a big clip to keep it out of her way. She didn't travel with hairnets, and she doubted they had any at the community center, so this would be the best she could do.

  The clock read 6:58. Time to get over to the diner. Or the Hole. Paige packed her suitcase and took one last look around the room, feeling a pang of sadness that she was leaving. Calm and quiet, the coziness of the furnishings invited her to curl up in the overstuffed chair with her laptop and research new recipes. She sighed, put on her coat, and went to stash her suitcase in the car.

  Several inches of snow had fallen while she slept, and flakes still drifted down lazily. The countryside held its breath, waiting for dawn. A low mooing came from the field across the way, and a cow pawed at the snow and huffed out a frosty breath. The sky glowed pink around the edge of the horizon, and it wouldn't be much longer before the sun made its appearance.

  A bell rang as Paige opened the door of the Hole, and the warm smell of pecans mingling with cinnamon made her mouth water and her stomach rumble.

  No Wes yet.

  A man with a cup of coffee and a newspaper held down a table for one. He seemed pretty relaxed—likely a regular. Rachel was already in the kitchen, visible from the counter, flipping pancakes. Paige leaned on the countertop. "Hey, Rachel!"

  Rachel flipped a stack onto a plate and brought it to the man, then went back behind the counter and asked, "Hot chocolate?"

  "Yes, please." Paige accepted a cup. "It's funny that Wes nicknamed your pancakes. He seems so serious, I never would have guessed."

  Rachel tapped her fingers on the counter. "Yeah, he doesn't let loose much unless you kno
w him. And this time of year is hard for him anyway, especially with what happened to his—uh, I really shouldn't be talking about it. That's his business." She poured herself a cup of cocoa and took a sip. "Drink up! I'd better make some more pancakes quick."

  The door opened behind Paige, bell ringing. Rachel smiled and waved at someone behind Paige. “They’ll be right out!” She hurried back to her batter.

  Paige turned around. Sure enough, it was Wes.

  He'd shaved since last night, and the angles of his face were more prominent. He took off his black coat—somehow, it brought out the clear blue of his eyes—then walked up to her. His plaid flannel shirt complemented his jeans nicely, and he smelled of something woodsy, stronger than he had yesterday—aftershave? A hint of wood smoke? She didn't know, but it suited him well. Too well.

  He gave an easy smile and a nod. "Good morning." Was it her imagination, or did he seem a little warmer to her than he had been last night? His eyes twinkled as he said, "Want to stay for breakfast?"

  As if in reply, her stomach growled. "Rachel already invited me. I think it would be a crime against all humanity if I didn't try those pancakes." She picked up her cup of cocoa and followed Wes to a table by the window. He put his coat over a chair, then pulled out the other one for Paige. Huh. A gentleman after all.

  Rachel came over and set a huge stack of pancakes before Wes before he even ordered. "I got started since I knew you were coming. Here's a double as usual." She set another one before Paige, about half the size. "You haven't lived until you've tried these."

  "Thank you so much!" Paige was sure Rachel didn’t make enough in this small town to give away many breakfasts.

  Rachel waved away the thanks. "It's nothing. I'm just glad to have another girl my age around here, even if it's only for a day." After setting down a small, warm pitcher of maple syrup, she topped off Paige’s cocoa and poured Wes some coffee, then hurried back to the kitchen.