by Lizzie Shane
She randomly pointed toward the cocoa stand nearby. “Who’s that?”
“That?” He followed her gaze. “Mac, owner of the Cup, best restaurant in town. Currently feuding with Magda, who runs the bakery. Something about a secret family cake recipe. Battle lines have been drawn. Sides have been taken. Mac’s coffee is better, but Magda’s pastries make you see God, so the teams are pretty even.”
Ally smothered a smile. “And which side are you on?”
“Well, I went to school with Mac from K through twelve, and we still have a weekly poker game when one of us doesn’t have to reschedule, so I’m pretty solidly Team Cup.”
“Wait a second.” Ally held up a hand in a stop sign as the rest of what he said clicked into place. “You prefer the coffee at the Cup? I’ve been getting it from Magda’s this whole time because that’s where you were getting yours the morning I ran into you. Why didn’t you say something?”
“I’m a firm believer in never complaining about free coffee delivery. And Magda’s is still good. Mac’s is just magical. But you can’t go into the Cup without getting sucked in. It’s a gossip vortex.”
“Does Mac want a dog?”
Ben grinned. “You know, he might. He’s sort of a lovable doofus himself. I’ve never seen him get mad at anyone but Magda. Maybe I’ll borrow one of the dogs to bring to the next poker night.”
“What’s this about poker night?” a deep voice asked as a tall man in a dark wool jacket appeared at her side. “Are we actually having one this week?”
“Hopefully,” Ben said, turning to clasp the hand of the new arrival, whose coat alone looked like it cost more than she made in a month. “Ally Gilmore, meet Connor Wyeth. Connor’s another of my childhood friends and poker victims.”
The tall, polished man grinned cockily, his teeth flashing in contrast to his rich brown skin. “I don’t think it counts as victimization if I’m the one taking all your money.”
“Funny, that’s not how I remember it. If I recall, last time you were the one crying into your beer.”
Connor turned to Ally, smiling smoothly as he took her hand. “Welcome to Pine Hollow, Ally. Don’t let him fool you,” he said, ignoring Ben. “He’s the worst of any of us. Can barely hold his cards. It’s pitiful.”
“Just don’t let my grandfather hear you have a game,” Ally cautioned. “He’s been fleecing the folks up at the Estates ever since I got here. He’d join you in a shot, and then you’d have to deal with the ego check of losing all your money to an eighty-two-year-old retiree.”
Connor lifted his eyebrows. “Who do you think taught us to play?”
Ally looked to Ben for confirmation and found him smiling. “Seriously? You never said Gramps taught you to play poker.”
“He taught all of us. Levi was always getting in trouble when we were younger, and his mom didn’t know what to do with him. I don’t know quite how it happened, but we all ended up out at the Elks learning about poker and blackjack—even bridge. Probably saved Levi from a life of crime.”
“Which is really a shame,” Connor said dryly. “The only reason I went to law school was because I thought I was going to have to defend him. All those wasted years.”
Ben snorted. “Yeah, it’s a pity law degrees are so useless.”
“And where is this Levi now?” Ally interjected before they could get into trash-talking one another again. “A poker tournament in Vegas?”
“Nah.” Ben jerked his chin toward the stage. “He’s the chief of police. He’s over by the homemade stocking station. Serving and protecting as we speak.”
“You’re kidding.” Ally turned to look, and sure enough, a man with a police insignia on his coat stood about fifteen feet away, chatting with a curvy brunette.
“Welcome to Pine Hollow. We all get sucked back in. Just wait. If you stay here long enough, you will be, too. It’s like quicksand.”
Ally smiled at Ben’s words, a laugh pressing up inside her chest. It wasn’t even that anything Ben had said was particularly amusing, it was just that bubbly, helium-filled feeling of being with someone who made you feel lighter, like you could lift right off your feet.
Not that she was flirting. Obviously she wasn’t flirting. They were friends. She just liked that she felt like she might belong here a little bit now. Like he’d opened a window into this world.
Though she was starting to think she really needed to meet his fiancée. The woman seemed entirely too theoretical. Ally needed the reminder that she was a real person.
Not that Ben had done anything inappropriate. He’d never even touched her. Their entire vibe was very Friend Zone. But she felt irrationally guilty when she got too comfortable around him. If she met his fiancée, maybe it wouldn’t feel so wrong to enjoy his company as much as she was starting to.
“Hey.” Deenie appeared at her side, flicking a glance up at Connor before speaking to Ally. “We’re all set up over next to the library booth. You coming?”
“See you Wednesday, Ben. Nice to meet you, Ally.” Connor gave a nod and moved into the crowd.
Ben extended a hand toward the gazebo side of the square, where Deenie was already disappearing. “Shall we?”
“After you.” Ally shortened Captain America’s leash, tightening her grip on her ridiculous crush on Ben while she was at it. She had a job to do—find these dogs homes—and she wasn’t going to be distracted. She was far too mature for that.
Which was why she absolutely checked out his ass as she fell into step behind him. Maturity.
Chapter Sixteen
Suggesting the dogs come to the tree lighting had been a whim. A random idea off the top of his head. Ben hadn’t expected it to be such a production. Or such a success.
Deenie had commandeered a tarp from somewhere and spread it out so they had a little patch of ground where people could play with the dogs without getting snow everywhere. That little patch quickly became the focal point of the square.
The dogs were a hit. Everyone wanted to pet the “celebrity” dogs they recognized from the Twelve Dogs of Christmas feature. Captain America lapped up the attention, but Partridge never strayed far from Ben’s side, drool steadily darkening his bright blue ADOPT ME ribbon as he gazed optimistically at Ben’s pockets.
Half the town seemed to stop by, called over by the shouts of laughter from Astrid and her friends as they played with Biscuit and JoJo, egged on by Deenie, who seemed just as comfortable rolling around on the ground as the kids. Ben introduced Ally to the butcher, the baker, and Joanie Pounds, who made her own scented candles. Then Mrs. Gilmore took over, pulling Ally to one side to meet her friends from the Estates.
Ben watched her, the smile on her face relaxed and natural—not at all the rigid grimace she’d had when they first arrived at the square. It hadn’t occurred to him that all this might be overwhelming to an outsider until he’d seen that frozen face. But now she looked right at home. She’d probably be as up to speed on all the gossip as Linda Hilson by the time she went back to New York.
A little pang worked through him at the thought, but he brushed it aside. She was only helping her grandparents out with the shelter. As soon as her work here was done, she’d be back in the city being an important photographer again.
“Looks like this is the place to be.”
Ben tore his gaze off Ally as Delia Winter appeared at his side. The mayor was his mother’s age, with neatly styled bright white hair, a smooth brown unlined face, and strong opinions. One of the few things that had made his work on the council these last few years bearable had been her sense of humor. “We’re very popular,” he acknowledged, noting the crowd around them had only grown.
Delia crouched down to pat Partridge. “I love what you’ve done with the newsletter for these guys.”
“It’s sort of our fault they’re closing. I figured we owed it to them.”
“It’s a smart solution. Doesn’t cost the town anything, but helps them get the word out about the shelter closing and th
e dogs in need.” She straightened, dusting off her hands. “Which is why I wanted to talk to you.”
Ben instinctively braced himself for bad news. In his experience, people only wanted to talk to him when they wanted something from him, and right now he was maxed out.
“You know I’m terming out next year,” Delia said. “We’ll need a new mayor…”
It took him a moment to realize what she was driving at, and when the penny dropped he shook his head in horror. “No. Absolutely not.”
“It wouldn’t be that much more work than being on the council—and you’d actually get a stipend for it, so you wouldn’t have to keep a full-time job. You already know how the town government works, and you’re about the only person on the council I trust to look at things from all sides and try to find win-win solutions.”
Ben shook his head. “I can’t, Delia. I’m already counting the days until my term on the town council is over so I have one less thing on my plate.”
“Okay.” She nodded, not at all deterred. “Just think about it. The election’s not for months.”
He didn’t need to think about it. He knew that no force on earth was going to make him run for mayor, but he liked Delia too much to tell her that to her face. He just nodded noncommittally and wished her a Merry Christmas as she took her wife’s arm and made her way toward the platform in front of the tree to begin the lighting ceremony.
“You okay? You look like you’re trying to murder the tree with your eyes.”
Ben’s glower cracked into a smile as he looked down at Ally. She had such a presence sometimes he forgot how small she was until she was standing right next to him. “I’m good. Just dealing with the usual ridiculous Pine Hollow ideas.”
“Want some good news? Astrid says her friend’s family is thinking of putting in an application on Biscuit. Counting the one we have pending on Captain America, that’s two success stories, and we’ve only been at it a week. Now we just need to find homes for the other eleven. And the puppies.” She groaned, laughing. “That sounded more optimistic in my head.”
“We’ll get there,” he promised. “Have you figured out who you want to feature next?”
“I was thinking Maximus. He’s so big, he’s going to be hard to place. And Gramps and I were saying maybe we should feature Dolce soon—see if we can get some interest in her and her pups, but that might make more sense after we know exactly how many puppies we have.”
“Maximus makes sense. Astrid and I have a bake-a-thon planned for tomorrow, but I could come by after to help wrangle him for the photos if you want.”
“Actually, I might ask Deenie to help me. She seems to have the magic touch where he’s concerned. If only she had an apartment that allowed dogs.”
“He’s awfully big for an apartment.”
Ally shrugged. “I had Colby in New York, and my place was a glorified closet.”
His eyebrows popped up. “You had a Saint Bernard in the city?”
“He actually makes a great apartment dog, because he’s three-quarters area rug.”
Ben snorted at the incredibly accurate description.
“Laziest dog ever. Though Partridge is giving him a run for his money tonight.”
Ben looked down and found the bulldog sprawled on his back with all four legs flung in the air, fast asleep and snoring. “He’s very dignified.”
“It’s his gift.” Ally glanced over at Astrid and her friends. “So a bake-a-thon, huh? Is that a family tradition?”
“More like forced labor inflicted on us by the town. It’s for the annual Pine Hollow Elementary Christmas Fair. All the children are required to bring enough baked goods to feed a battalion. Then they sell them to one another and their parents, and the proceeds go to fund after-school activities for the rest of the year. We’re on brownie duty this year.”
Ally cocked her head, her dark eyes studying him. “Why do I get the sense you aren’t excited by brownie duty?”
He grimaced. “My sister was Supermom. She would’ve done something that would have sold out for sure. I told Astrid we could do some kind of fancy gingerbread or something, but I don’t think she trusted me to pull it off, so she signed us up for brownies instead.”
“You can do a lot with brownies. I bet they’ll still sell out.”
He cringed. “Yeah…Astrid’s concern about my culinary abilities may have been warranted. I’m best when I just follow the instructions on the box.”
“I could help you,” she offered. “I mean, after all you’ve done for the shelter, I definitely owe you a few hours of brownie baking.”
Ben opened his mouth to decline her offer, but Astrid appeared out of nowhere, bouncing from her cocoa-induced sugar high. “You’re gonna make brownies with us?” she exclaimed. “That’s so awesome!”
“You don’t have to,” Ben assured her. “You really don’t owe me.”
“Please,” Astrid wheedled. “We need your help. You don’t even know how much we need your help. Uncle Ben is, like, the worst cook in the world.”
“Hey. I’m standing right here.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.” Ally met his eyes uncertainly. “You must have someone else who would be more appropriate.”
“Like Martha Stewart? Normally she’d swing by to help out, but her schedule’s so busy this time of year.”
“No, I meant—” A crackle of feedback from the PA cut her off as the mayor stepped up to the microphone.
“Merry Christmas, Pine Hollow!” Delia’s voice boomed across the square—and everyone chorused “Merry Christmas!” back at her.
Ally turned toward the stage, tipping her face up toward the tree. Ben must have seen the ritual lighting of the tree twenty times, and it always seemed kind of silly to him—all of them gathering to watch the mayor flip a switch. As if there was anything magical in that. Ally must be even less impressed, coming from the land of Rockefeller Center. Pine Hollow’s holiday traditions must seem pathetic by comparison.
But then she looked back at him over her shoulder, bouncing on the balls of her feet and grinning as the mayor went through her speech, and he realized she was loving this.
“I wish I’d brought my camera,” she whispered, turning her face back toward the tree.
He couldn’t imagine what she would want to take pictures of. It was just a small-town square, full of small-town people, making a spectacle out of something ordinary.
But then all the lights around the square dimmed, the choir that had taken the stage after the band began to sing “Home for the Holidays,” and the townspeople grew quiet, every eye in the square turned toward that one point as the mayor flipped the switch.
A gasp went through the crowd, followed by a cheer. Thousands of twinkle lights in every color illuminated the tree, casting their glow on all the faces turned up toward the spectacle. He glanced down to see Ally release a sigh and bite her lower lip—and when he looked back at the tree, it did look a little bit magical. He’d never gotten choked up at a tree lighting before, but Ben’s throat tightened, and he looped one arm around Astrid’s shoulders, tugging her against his side. She leaned into him, the weight of her seeping into him along with the warm glow of the tree.
He’d considered skipping the event tonight to start a load of sink laundry, since the washer was still out of commission, but now he was glad they’d come.
The choir finished their song to another cheer and launched into “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Astrid pulled away from him, and the moment was over—but when he looked down, Ally was smiling up at him, and something seemed to catch in the air between them, holding and building, twisting tight—
“Aunt Elinor!”
Ally jerked like she’d been hit by a Taser, yanking her gaze away from Ben’s at Astrid’s shouted greeting. Ben turned to greet his sister’s best friend, accepting her hug hello. “Hey, E.”
“Hi. Who’s this?” She turned toward Ally with a smile.
“Ally Gilmore!” Ally’s voice
was too loud, her smile almost manically bright. “I run the animal shelter. Ben and Astrid have been helping me. It’s so nice to meet you!”
“You, too,” Elinor replied, though her smile was cautious. “I’m Elinor, spelled the Sense and Sensibility way, so I had no choice but to become a bibliophile.”
Ally laughed as if the comment were a fabulous joke. “So have you two known each other long?” she asked cheerfully.
Elinor cocked her head at him, as if trying to think back that far. “Since kindergarten? Right?”
“Yeah. Elinor and I were in the same grade back then. Before she started skipping grades and left us all in the dust.”
“Wow! That’s awesome!” Ally gushed.
Ben’s brows pulled together at the jarring enthusiasm.
“Thanks.” Elinor looped an arm around Astrid’s shoulders. “So are you guys all set for the Christmas Fair?”
“We haven’t even started baking yet,” Astrid groaned, but then she perked up, beaming. “But Ally’s going to come over and help us tomorrow, aren’t you, Ally?”
“I—” Ally froze, doing her best impression of a deer in headlights, her gaze flicking from Astrid to Elinor to Ben and back again. “I mean—not if—I could—unless you wanted to help instead?”
“Me?” Elinor laughed. “I’m no help whatsoever in the kitchen. But I’m glad these two will have guidance. We all suffered through Ben’s attempt at scones last year.”
“Hey. They weren’t that bad.” Elinor arched a brow at him, and he relented. “Okay, they were, but in my defense the quinoa flour was right next to the regular flour.”
Elinor laughed. “Save them, Ally,” she urged. “You’re their only hope.”
“You really don’t have to,” Ben argued. “Don’t let the emotional blackmail sway you.”
Ally’s face had gone strangely stiff. “I mean, I…”
“Do you want to meet JoJo, Aunt Elinor?” Astrid interrupted. “She’s so cute.”
Elinor grinned down at Astrid. “Absolutely.”