The Scrooge Of Loon Lake. Carrie Nichols
to making ornaments?”
“Yeah,” he said and winced at the hopeful expression on her face. “The answer’s still no, but—” he held up the half-eaten cookie “—I applaud your effort.”
“Ah, you have a sweet tooth.” She gave him a smile that had him wishing he was the kind of man she deserved. “Good to know.”
“You can bring a whole bakery and the answer would still be no,” he warned and grabbed another cookie. He did not need her getting under his skin any further. The fact that he’d been looking for her for the past two days rankled. And she never quite answered why she’d been gone that long. How many appointments did Sam have? Yo, Gallagher, none of your business. So why was he fixating on it? She didn’t owe him an explanation, just as he didn’t owe her one for refusing to make Christmas-themed glass art pieces.
“But don’t you enjoy the feeling you get from doing a good deed?”
Give the lady points for tenacity. He shook his head. “It might alter people’s expectations of me.”
Instead of being cowed or annoyed by his surly attitude she seemed buoyed, ready to take on the challenge he represented. Des admired that. Yeah, admiration was a nice safe name for what he felt for Natalie Pierce.
“I must say, you’re quite the conundrum.”
“Really? I’ve always considered myself more of an enigma.” He handed a cookie to Sam and winked. Sam grinned and bit the treat in half.
“Tell you what,” Des said and popped the rest of the shortbread into his mouth, but it lost its appeal when her expression turned hopeful again. He was going to disappoint her, but he should be used to disappointing the women in his life. Not that she was in his life. Nope. He didn’t do charming. Why did he always forget that around her? “I’ll make a cash donation to this auction of yours.”
“Thank you. And don’t think I don’t appreciate it, but we would have more earning potential if you made ornaments. More people would attend if we were able to advertise that we’d have your exclusive crafts. Ones that you can’t get anywhere else. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but more people would be bidding on them and that would drive up the price.”
“I thought it was a silent auction.” He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in a “gotcha” gesture.
Natalie stabbed her finger at him. “Okay, you got me there, but when people see all the bids piling up for your ornaments, they’d bid higher.”
“Are you sure you’re not overestimating my appeal?”
She blushed. “I don’t think that’s even possible.”
His stupid heart did not stutter. What was he, fifteen? He cleared his throat. “You know I was referring to my art.”
She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent expression, but those baby blues shone with amusement. “Of course. That’s what my answer was based on. What did you think I meant?”
Sam tugged on her sleeve and she glanced down. “You’re right. It’s getting late.” She glanced up and met Des’s gaze. “He has another hippotherapy session today.”
He might not do charming, but he admired the heck out of the strong bond she had with Sam. “I wouldn’t want him to miss that.”
“Especially if it means getting rid of us, hmm?”
He held up his hands. Hey, even his jerkiness had its limits. “Honestly, I didn’t mean it that way. You said he enjoyed the sessions.”
“I was teasing,” she said and laid her hand on his arm.
Incapable of speech, Des couldn’t think of anything except that she was touching him. The warmth of her hand penetrating the flannel of his shirt had muddled his brain.
“Contrary to the popular consensus, I believe you have a lot buried under all that grumpiness, including a sense of humor.” She squeezed his arm before letting her hand drop.
As reason returned and he became capable of speech once again, he lifted a finger and wagged it. “See? That’s where you’d be wrong. I’m grumpy on the outside, morose and malcontented on the inside. Unlike you, I don’t do optimism.”
“Oh, my, you say optimism like it’s a communicable disease.” Her eyes sparkled. “And maybe I choose to see more in you.”
He snorted a laugh. Damn, too bad he didn’t do cute. Except that argument died a little more each time he saw her and soon that feeble excuse would be on life support. He shook his head and tried to arrange his face in a scowl, but for once those muscles refused to cooperate. His grin snapped back like a rubber band. “Then I seriously question your choices, Ms. Pierce.”
“Question them all you want, but it won’t change my opinion.” Sam tugged on her sleeve again and she nodded to him. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Making threats again?”
She exited the barn, leaving behind her subtle lavender scent and the echo of her laughter. What would it be like to be in her orbit? To know her so well that silent communication was possible?
Des sighed and cut the piece again. This time the curve was perfect. “Coincidence,” he muttered as he put the glass in place to create a loon rising from a lake. He believed in a lot of things but coincidence wasn’t one of them. Which meant he was in a whole heap of trouble.
Standing, he stretched his back and took a sip of coffee from the insulated mug as he eyed the tin of cookies. He was going to have to add time to his workout regime if he kept this up much longer. He reached for another cookie.
“Umm… Des?”
His head snapped up to find Natalie and Sam still standing in the doorway of the barn. The smile that had started at the sight of her slipped when Sam sniffled as if he’d been crying. Des jumped up and nearly tripped when his leg protested.
“What’s wrong? What happened? Is Sam okay?” His heart pounding, he ignored the pain in his leg to get to them. “Did he get hurt?”
“He’s okay… I’m okay…we’re both fine.” She waved her hand. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s my car. It won’t start. I could call Ogle Whatley’s garage, but Sam’s session would be over by the time Ogle came out here and fixed it.”
Des exhaled, but his heart was still pounding. “Is that why he’s crying? He doesn’t want to miss his session?”
“I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to frighten you.” She appeared as distraught as her son. “I’m sure it must seem silly to you but—”
“It’s not silly when you’re five, is it, Sam?” He held out his hand to the boy. “Want to help me look for the jumper cables? I have some in my truck. If it’s your battery, it won’t take long to get you going. C’mon, Sam, let’s go take a look.”
He should resent having his work interrupted now that his muse was back, but the fact was, the sight of either one of them in distress made him want to help. And when Sam slipped his hand in his, Des had the urge to start whistling some stupid, sappy tune.
Natalie hung back as Des and Sam left the barn. She’d thought Des might be put out at having to help her, but he seemed strangely happy. Don’t read too much into it, she cautioned herself. Maybe he didn’t want to upset Sam. As gruff as Des tried to project, he’d been nothing but kind to Sam.
She followed them outside to where Des was pulling jumper cables from a locker in the bed of his pickup. Sam was standing on his toes, trying to see. “Sam, please don’t get in the lieutenant’s way.”
“Why don’t you get back in the car?” she