Glynna Kaye - High Country Holiday

She abruptly stepped back from the window, irritated at herself for gawking after the still-enticing man. She was twenty-eight years old now. He was what—thirty? He’d been living his life elsewhere, doing who knew what, far from the vigilant eyes of Canyon Springs. He’d probably been up to no good, just like his father and older half brothers. Dad always said even a shiny apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t tempting.

She returned to the Christmas tree where she picked up another ornament. She wasn’t a teenager now, given to indulging in silly daydreams. Cody would soon be gone and his return to Canyon Springs a mere blip on the radar of her life.

With an air of resolve, she slipped a hook into the ornament loop and placed it on the end of a branch. But before she could react, the too-fragile needles bent, sending the decorative glass ball tumbling to the hardwood floor where it shattered at her feet.

Chapter Two

Cody strode to the old Dodge pickup, jerked open the door and climbed inside. Then he slammed the door and sat staring blindly out the snow-streaked windshield.

It was clear Paris couldn’t wait to send him on his way. He couldn’t blame her. How old had she been back then—almost sixteen? He’d been nearly eighteen and old enough to know better than to do what he’d done that night. He could still hear her soft gasp when he’d stepped out of the shadows where she’d been relaxing on the porch swing. He’d been desperate to speak to her before he left town, daring to risk being caught by her father.

Looking back, he was lucky she hadn’t called the cops.

And yet...for a fleeting moment, he thought he’d seen something in her eyes that sustained him with a glimmer of hope despite her firm but gentle turndown. It kept him going as he endeavored to turn his life around and become a man worthy of a woman like Paris. That is, until the day four years ago when he’d come across her engagement announcement on the front page of the online local paper.

Yeah, he’d been a dumb kid in more ways than one. He wasn’t that bright of an adult, either. He hadn’t spoken to Paris in twelve and a half years, yet he’d neglected to say it was good to see her. He hadn’t told her how beautiful she was. Nor could he bring himself to offer congratulations on her marriage into the Herrington clan.

Dalton Herrington.

Cody’s fists clenched involuntarily at the thought of the hotshot physician marrying Paris. But with Dalton’s professional status and upper-crust social standing in the community, he was exactly the kind of man she’d have been expected to marry. No surprises there. The future doctor had been in the same graduating class as Cody, likely finishing up medical school and heading into a residency program three and a half years ago. But even though he hadn’t been one to give Cody grief like others in the popular crowd, Cody didn’t want to think about them being a married couple who’d probably soon be starting a family of little high-class Herringtons.

For all he knew, they already had.

“Cody!” A sharp rapping at the driver-side window startled him back to the present.

He turned to find an auburn-haired, fiftysomething woman smiling at him and his spirits lifted as he stepped out to join her. Sharon Dixon, owner of Dix’s Woodland Warehouse, had always been good to his mom. To him, too, come to think of it. Funny how you forgot things like that.

The once-robust woman had lost considerable weight, though, since he’d last seen her. Had she been ill? His mother hadn’t mentioned it but, then again, after Paris’s engagement he no longer checked online to see what the pretty Miss Perslow might be up to, and forbade Ma to share any Canyon Springs gossip with him.

“As I live and breathe,” Sharon whispered, her former smoker’s voice as rough as sandpaper. “I’d heard you were back in town, doll. I’m sure your mother is tickled to pieces.”

He noticed she didn’t include his dad in that observation.

“Look at you. All grown up.” Her smile widened as she took him in from his booted toes to the baseball cap on his head. “I imagine you’re beating off the girls with a bat these days.”

He gave a dubious chuckle. “I can’t say that’s been much of a problem.”

“It will be if you stick around here for long.” She winked.

Right. While women elsewhere didn’t seem to have any objections to what reflected back at him in his mirror, he doubted any in this town would line up to compete for a guy who’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks.

“I’m glad our paths crossed today, Cody. I have something for you to give your mom.” She dipped her fingers into a jacket pocket, then handed him a check. “It’s payment for wreaths and table decorations she left on consignment last week. They sold out within days.”

He glanced at the amount on Dix’s Woodland Warehouse check stock, then raised a brow. He used to gather bags of ponderosa pinecones for Ma, but had no idea people paid that kind of money for homemade Christmas decorations. He pulled out his wallet and tucked the check inside. “I’ll see she gets this.”

When she wasn’t with Dad.

“I’ve hesitated to contact her with all that’s going on.” Sharon gazed at him with sympathy. “But I have customers asking about future deliveries. There would be guaranteed sales if she can find time to put together more wreaths. The greenery or pinecone variety both sell well. Those quilted table runners are popular, too.”

“Thanks. I’ll let her know, Mrs. Dixon.”

“It’s Sharon.” She wagged a finger at him. “I thought we went through this when you were a teenager.”

They had, but he still felt funny calling her by her first name. His Texas-born mama had been a stickler for proper etiquette, Mister and Missus being drilled into him from infancy. Not that his manners had made any difference in this town.

“I’ll give the message to her...Sharon.”

She studied him for a long moment, windblown snowflakes lighting in her hair. “How is your father?”

Not many asked. Not many cared. But he knew Sharon’s concern, like Paris’s, was genuine, not merely fishing for gossip to share with neighbors who clucked their tongues at those no-good Hawk men. Dad couldn’t care less about their disapproval, but Cody knew it hurt Ma, even though she’d never said as much.

“He’s as well as can be expected.” Which meant Leroy Hawk wasn’t happy and was making sure no one else was, either. The wind shifted direction, whipping around them with a blustery gust. “You’d better get back inside, ma’am, before this wind knocks you off your feet.”

“Tell your mother she’s in my prayers. You are, too.”

“Thanks.” He’d willingly take any prayers he could get, for within hours of crossing the Canyon Springs city limits, anger and resentments he thought God had put to rest resurfaced. And now, finding Paris living here... He hadn’t expected the ambitious Dalton Herrington to settle down as a small-town doctor.

For a moment he thought Sharon might try to hug him, but apparently his expression prevented that. Instead, she fixed a look on him that said she understood more than he gave her credit for, then she headed back to her store.

Mrs. Dixon had always gone out of her way for his mother, for which he was grateful. It still galled, though, to know people were aware of your lack. That people—like Paris—knew you and yours were struggling and in need of a handout.

But, God willing, not much longer.

* * *

“Oh, sweetheart, this dress is breathtaking on you.” Saturday morning, the well-coiffed Elizabeth Herrington stepped back to better view Paris in the three-way mirror outside the dressing rooms of a Canyon Springs boutique. “If only Dalton were here to see you.”