She laughed and shifted in her seat, knowing that the conversation had led to the fact that their kids had played matchmakers. She should tell him that right now.
He studied her face, looking into her eyes long enough to elicit a blush, but she told herself that anyone would have warmed under that kind of scrutiny.
“The thing is,” he said slowly, making her wonder where he was going next. “I haven’t…I don’t…” He swallowed. “I have a hard time trusting people,” he finally said. “Maybe now that you know my history, you understand.”
“I understand,” she said.
If he wasn’t a trusting man, should she tell him about what the kids had done…or not?
Would he be mad? Disappointed? Amused? Would he wonder why she hadn’t told him when they first talked about it?
“I should probably get back,” he said, tucking a folded napkin next to his mug as if he somehow thought his confession was…too much. “Olivia’s sitter will think I disappeared.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Benny’s great-grandfather tends to conk out by eight and if that child is left to his own devices, our Christmas tree will run on robotics by the time I get back.”
They stood, pulling on coats and scarves. As they stepped outside, the cold air wrapped around them, crisp and biting. Snow fell thicker now, swirling in the glow of the streetlamps.
They walked in silence for a block. Gracie could feel the warmth of him beside her, that same quiet comfort all over her.
“This was fun,” she said, smiling up at him.
“You sound surprised.” He laughed. “I didn’t even make you eat carrots and chia seeds.”
“I am surprised,” she admitted. “I’m glad we got to know each other.”
They slowed when they reached Sugarfall, which was locked up tight for the night. He turned to her, looking down.
“So am I,” he said. “And next time I see you, we will create the best gingerbread structure this town has ever seen.”
She laughed and pulled out her keys. “I’m going to walk through to my car in the back. Good night, Marshall.”
“You okay to go alone?”
She smiled, touched by the protectiveness she so rarely got to experience. “I am, thank you.”
“’Night, Gracie.”
“Good night, Marshall.”
Inside Sugarfall, the lights were still on in the display case, casting a golden glow. Back in the quiet, warm kitchen, Gracie leaned against the counter and closed her eyes.
He hadn’t made her a nervous wreck. She hadn’t been shy, scared, or stuttering like a crushed-out fool.
Did that mean she didn’t really like him?
Or that she really, really did?
Cindy paused in the doorway of what used to be her office, taking in the subtle changes since it had becomeJack’sworkspace. The soft plaid curtains she’d hung back when it was her domain were still there, but the desk had migrated closer to the window, and a few framed skiing photos—actual Olympic shots—had replaced her collection of color-coded calendars.
A signed poster from the ’02 Salt Lake Games hung behind his chair, the athletes frozen midair against that familiar bright-white snow. It felt…different, but in a good way. Like him.
“You look busy,” she said, leaning on the doorframe.
Jack didn’t look up right away. He was focused, tapping something into his computer, glasses perched on his nose. Somehow, Jack had become a sixty-something man, but she could still see that young skier she’d fallen hard for thirty years ago.
Finally, he hit a key, leaned back, and smiled. “I was. Then my favorite distraction showed up.”
Cindy rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Smooth.”
