“That’s a sweet girl.”
I stroke her white snout as she chews, glad she’s back to her old self. When Maisie nuzzles my pocket for more treats like I’m her dealer, I pull out the extra piece with a chuckle. As she munches the last bit, warmth spreads through my chest that has nothing to do with the Texas sun. I glance back toward town, where The Kindly Crumb sits on Main Street. Maybe I’ll need to check on Maisie’s cookie supply more often.
You know, for the horse’s sake.
But I shut that down as quickly as I can. I don’t have time for dating.
Period.
Chapter 4
Hallie
The spirited notes of the holiday song “Sleigh Ride” reverberate through the house as my nephew hops to the beat holding a Spiderman ornament.
“Does here look good, Aunt Hallie?”
“Sure does, bud.”
I’m sitting on the couch, sipping a cup of hot cocoa, watching my niece and nephew place the last few ornaments on my Christmas tree. It’s become a tradition the day after Thanksgiving for me to watch the kids while my brother and sister-in-law go catch all the best deals that they can. Sure, they could order gifts online, but I think they like the rush of fighting holiday crowds. Not that I mind. I want to spend as much time with my niece and nephew as I can. At six and eight, they are just about the cutest kids planet Earth has ever seen.
Harrison takes after my brother. Well, both of them do, actually. He has the same strawberry hair that I do, cut short on the sides with a floppy top. Lorelei’s hair has more red in it, and she has the most beautiful peachy skin. Not a freckle insight, unlike the light smattering across my nose and cheeks. My nephew got his mom’s darker skin. A lady-killer, that one.
My front door bursts open, and in walks a freshly showered Brooke, her damp brown hair up in a messy bun, her old college sweats looking super comfy.
“Aunt Brooke!” the kids practically squeal. They spend almost as much time with her as they do with me, hence the aunt moniker.
“The tree looks great, you guys! I made some Rice Krispies Treats for you. We’ll go grab them in a few minutes.”
“Woo-hoo!” The kids high-five each other and break out the new Christmas puzzle on my kitchen table.
After settling in with her own cup of cocoa, Brooke catches me up on all things. One of their mares produced an AQHA World Champion, so she’s super excited about that. I share that my cake for the Weatherford wedding brought in several new customers from the Austin area, so that’s promising.
“Oh, and we now have twenty-one bachelors signed up for the auction this year!” I’m also a member of the Magnolia League, but I’m not on the auction committee. This time of year is too busy for me. I don’t even participate in the community theater Christmas production. I make it up with the spring show.
As she prattles on about the committee’s plans for decorating the community center, I picture Colt in a tuxedo, his blond hair slightly tousled, his muscular frame somehow more impressive in formal wear, and my senses buzz. My old crush is mingling with a new attraction that I can’t seem to shake.
I’ve dated enough to figure out what doesn’t work for me in a relationship. Like guys who’d rather scroll through their phones than have an actual conversation, the kind who’ll eventually ignore their own children at dinner to check sports stats. Or men looking for a live-in maid instead of a partner. The biggest deal-breaker for me, though? Someone who thinks my communitytheater work is just a cute hobby. Simple stuff, really, but finding a guy who checks these basic boxes is harder than I thought.
Brooke’s cell phone buzzes. “Ready for the rice treats, kiddos?”
“Yeah!”
The four of us head next door to indulge in tree-shaped goodies.
Even though our duplexes are mirror images of each other, our styles couldn’t be more different. Brooke’s taste is modern farmhouse with clean white and bright minimalist wooden accents. Me, on the other hand? I’m more the eclectic vibe with jewel tones, lots of plants, and posters of my favorite films scattered throughout each room. It’s my sanctuary.
The kids are sitting on kitchen stools, enjoying their second marshmallow treats, when a loud, firm knock hits the front door before swinging open.
“Hey, sis. Here’s the circular saw.” I’d know that husky voice anywhere.
Colt Sawyer.
He steps into Brooke’s home, a backwards baseball cap perched on his head, his blonde hair peeking out from underneath. Tight Wranglers fit his body just right, hugging his thigh muscles like they never want to let go. Even his worn cowboy boots look made for him.
Surprise crosses his features at seeing me and the kids. “Hi, Hallie.”
“Hi, Colt.” My stomach does that stupid flip it’s been doing since yesterday. Great timing, body. Nothing says ‘I’m a responsible aunt’ like ogling your best friend’s brother in front of children.
