When Snow Falls (Whiskey Creek #2)(58)
Author: Brenda Novak

“And this will prove them wrong?”

“I’m hoping. I’m also hoping it’ll demonstrate my good taste.”

She pointedly eyed the ugly ornament he’d pulled out from the pile of other, far better possibilities, and they both laughed.

“At least I can put the angel on top.” He dragged over a stepladder that wouldn’t have been nearly tall enough had she used it. “Makes me good for something.”

“You’re good for a lot more than that.”

When he smiled, she began to feel a bit better. Joe reminded her so much of Gail. How could she not enjoy every minute of his company?

She could and she would. He might not be the man she should marry, but he was the type of man. And if she didn’t date the right type of man, she’d fall in love with the wrong type.

Thank God she’d caught herself before walking into a disaster. There was no telling what being with Dylan would’ve led to.

Briefly, she touched her stomach and hoped it hadn’t already led to trouble.

“Nice,” he said when they were finished and he turned on the tree lights.

She stood back to admire their work. “Not bad.”

“Considering what we started with.”

For some reason, she thought of Dylan’s tree. He needed help decorating, too. It was completely bare. No angel. No ornaments or tinsel or lights. For a second, she wondered why he’d even bothered to put it up.

Maybe one of his brothers did.

On second thought, she doubted it. Most likely Dylan had dragged that tree inside for their sakes. They were getting too old to care about that sort of thing, but catering to Christmas was probably a habit by now, seeing as he was the only Santa they’d had for the past fifteen years.

“Ready to go to the Victorian Christmas celebration?” Joe asked.

“I am.” Scolding herself for thinking of Dylan yet again, she finished putting the extra ornaments away and accepted Joe’s hand.

20

The tree in the park was lit by thousands of tiny lights and the choir members positioned beside it, dressed in Victorian garb, carried candles. Against the backdrop of winter’s early dark, the lights and candles made a beautiful sight as the choir sang the traditional carols. Until that moment, when she stood listening to an a cappella rendition of “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen,” Cheyenne hadn’t thought much about the meaning of Christmas. She’d merely been going through the motions, putting up decorations because it was expected, especially at the inn. But tonight she felt the Christmas spirit.

She had a lot to be grateful for, she realized as she looked out at the faces of those who’d gathered to celebrate. She’d found a home and people she loved here in Whiskey Creek. Joe was part of her community and her circle of friends. She had so many fond memories of him from high school, not only of the times he’d stood up for her but many others—watching him play football, spying on him when she went to Gail’s, giggling when he caught them and chased them down. He’d been the perfect big brother and that made him the perfect teenage crush. That meant he’d also provided hours of pleasurable fantasy. But somehow the sexual element of those dreams had been lost. Right now she felt nothing more than friendship for Joe.

Friendship was a start, she told herself. Maybe they could build on that foundation. She certainly didn’t want to give up too soon. Any girl would be lucky to be involved with him; he wasn’t someone to be passed over lightly.

The choir director, in top hat and tails, asked the audience to join in on the final number. She sang “Silent Night” along with Joe and the others, but her mind wandered. And, of course, it went right back where she didn’t want it to go—Dylan.

She didn’t have many memories of him from high school. She hadn’t been around him all that much. To some extent, she’d purposely kept her distance. He’d been such a troublemaker. And the good people of Whiskey Creek made a big deal of showing their disapproval when it came to troublemakers. He’d started acting out after his mother died and his father crawled into a bottle, and that should’ve triggered more understanding. It probably would have, if he hadn’t been so darn unfriendly, rejecting both pity and help, so prickly and angry all around.

Then his father had stabbed that guy and Dylan’s world had gone from bad to worse. Yet, somehow, he’d gotten through it. Maybe he hadn’t done a perfect job of behaving and demanding that his brothers behave, but he’d taken on a monumental task. Not many others would have attempted, at such a young age, to raise four siblings. But if he hadn’t accepted the responsibility, his brothers would’ve been split up and parceled out to foster homes.

Cheyenne admired Dylan for keeping his family together. She wondered why more people couldn’t see past the typical signs of rebellion, couldn’t figure out how special he must be to have pulled it off.

Maybe the people of Whiskey Creek were still a little nervous about the Amos boys because they hadn’t quite been tamed.

“Should we get some cider?” Joe asked

“Sounds good.”

He took her elbow to help her avoid colliding with a teenager who darted away from his friend. Those who’d been listening to the carols were wandering off, moving in the direction of the food and craft vendors. As they followed, Cheyenne adjusted her beanie to keep her hair out of her eyes and blew on her hands. Her fingerless gloves made a nice fashion statement, but she was beginning to wish they were more practical than cute. The temperature seemed to be dropping fast. The weather report said they should expect more snow before Christmas. She wouldn’t be surprised if it started tonight.

“You cold?” Joe paused to chafe her hands. It was a gallant thing to do. But then he kissed her knuckles, and that was a little too intimate for her comfort, especially in public.

She was just trying to decide out how to pull away while making it look natural when a patch of black leather caught her eye. Startled by the realization that she recognized the jacket and the man wearing it, she glanced over to see a pair of familiar dark eyes in a face that could suddenly have been hewn from stone.

* * *

For a second, Dylan couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t been happy when Cheyenne canceled their date, but he’d told himself not to overreact. She spooked easily. He felt confident that, with time and effort, he’d be able to win her back. Because of her past, she wanted a secure future even more than most people did, so he figured he’d do what he could to prove himself reliable.