Sugar Plum Season. Mia Ross
with Amy. Despite his best efforts, though, Paul’s expression grew increasingly suspicious.
“Uh-huh.” Dragging it out longer than usual, he folded his arms in disapproval. “Now, how ’bout the truth?”
“That is the truth,” Jason insisted, as much for himself as his nosy brother. “The lady wants a tree and a nice arch overtop, so I’m making them for her. And for the kids. They’re working hard on their show, and they deserve a big audience. I figured it’s a nice, Christmassy thing to do.”
“It’s very nice.” With her kitten, Daisy, cradled in her arms, Chelsea came out to back him up. Sending a stern look at her husband, she smiled at Jason. “I’m sure she really appreciates your help.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Paul cautioned her. “He’s got a weakness for pretty faces and sad stories.”
“I do not,” Jason protested. Paul raised an eyebrow at him, and he decided it was pointless to argue. “Okay, you’re right, but this time’s different.”
“How?”
He didn’t want to lie, but it wasn’t his place to air her personal history, so he hedged, “Amy was advertising for a carpenter to replace Fred, and the job’s easy enough. Everyone else in the family does work for the church or charities this time of year, and I’ve been looking for a way to pitch in somewhere.”
“You’ve been doing that ever since you moved in with Gram and Granddad.” Paul rested a hand on his shoulder with a proud smile. “His cancer’s getting worse every day, and she needs your help after Mom goes home for the night. We’re all grateful to you for stepping up like that.”
The praise settled well, and Jason smiled back. “That’s why this project is so great. Working at Amy’s, I’ll be five minutes away if they need me. The show’s the week before Christmas, so my part’ll be over soon enough.”
“You realize you’re doing an awful lot of work for a woman you met—” Pausing, he chuckled. “When did you meet her, anyway?”
“This morning, after you and I had breakfast at the Whistlestop. She was decorating out front of the dance place, and since she’s new in town, I went over to say hi.” When Paul leveled one of those big-brother looks at him, Jason let out a frustrated growl. “You’re acting like I proposed or something.”
“Well...”
“That was a long time ago,” Jason reminded him, poking him in the chest for emphasis. “I learned my lesson with her, and I’ve got no plans for making that mistake again anytime soon.”
“I have to ask,” Chelsea interrupted. “Who on earth are you talking about?”
“Rachel McCarron,” Jason replied with a wry grin. “It didn’t work out.”
“That little minx took off with your best friend and your truck,” Paul reminded him, as if he’d lost his memory or something. “Oh, and the ring. Nice girl.”
“Whatever.”
Paul opened his mouth, then closed it almost immediately. Jason didn’t understand why until he noticed the chilly stare Paul was getting from his wife. It reminded him of Amy’s disapproving looks, and he smothered a grin. He’d never had the opportunity to compare one woman with another this way. If he could somehow figure out what was going on in their heads, it might actually be entertaining.
“Fine.” With a look that was half smile and half grimace, Paul stepped back to let Jason into the working area of the mill. “Whattaya need?”
Monday morning crept by at a pace that would have embarrassed the slowest turtle on earth. Banished to her office at the rear of the studio by her carpenter, Amy chafed impatiently and tried not to check the old schoolhouse clock on the wall every two seconds.
She was dying to see what he’d come up with for the entryway. Before she went completely bonkers, she decided it was better to distract herself until he was finished. She could use the free time to inventory her costume collection, assessing what Aunt Helen had on hand so she could determine what they needed to buy for the cast.
Because the studio had been built on her aunt’s stellar reputation as a dance instructor, Amy had insisted Aunt Helen remain a silent partner in the business. So every decision was a “they” situation, which was new for someone who’d spent most of her life focused on her own career. It was one of many changes Amy had encountered since coming back to Barrett’s Mill after so many years away.
Like Jason Barrett.
The man couldn’t be any more different from her ex, and she couldn’t help but compare the two. A dancer himself, Devon hadn’t been able to cope with the somber prospect of being shackled to a wife who was so limited physically. He bolted shortly after her grim final diagnosis, taking his great-grandmother’s engagement ring with him.
Since then, the men who’d crossed her path had been either medical professionals or old friends who viewed her as more of a younger sister than a romantic interest. Heartbroken by Devon’s betrayal, her new hands-off status with the male species actually suited her just fine. She had no intention of letting another one close enough to hurt her by taking off just when she needed him most.
Not that Jason fell into that category, she reminded herself as she eased out of her chair. In a few short days, he’d proven himself not only respectful but dependable, two qualities she valued in anyone. On her way into the storeroom, she made several attempts to classify him based on other guys she’d known, but came up empty. Then she heard his teasing voice in her mind.
And here I thought we were friends.
Smiling to herself, she decided he was indeed her friend, one she might enjoy getting to know better. After all, she mused as she began pairing up satin slippers, you never knew when a big, strong carpenter might come in handy.
From the doorway, she heard a low whistle and turned to find him staring into the oversize closet. “It looks like a cotton-candy machine blew up in here.”
The comment was so spot-on, she couldn’t help laughing. “I guess it does. That’s what happens when you cast too many sugar-plum fairies.”
“How many extra do you have?”
Glancing up, she quickly did the math. “Ten, I think.”
“Why didn’t you just make them something else? Save yourself a little netting?”
“Because all the girls wanted to be Clara or a sugar-plum fairy. For this production, no one’s en pointe, and only Heidi Peterson could manage the basics for Clara. That means I need lots of these,” she added, fluffing the layers of pink tulle hanging on the rack.
Something in his expression shifted, and he took a step inside the cramped room. “You mean, you adjusted the traditional cast so they could play the roles they wanted?”
“Of course. They’re kids, and it’s Christmas.” Baffled by his reaction to her scaled-down production, she frowned. “Why?”
“Because that’s the last thing I’d expect from a perfectionist like you.”
The gold in his eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn’t begin to define, and she found herself caught up in the hypnotic warmth of his gaze. He didn’t move toward her, but his imposing presence filled the room with something that was more than physical. In a jolt of understanding, she recognized that it came from a heart so generous, he’d volunteered his time and talents to a stranger simply because she needed his help. Instinctively, she knew he was someone who treated people well as a matter of principle, not as a means to an end.
The kind of man who’d treasure the woman fortunate enough to be the one he loved.
That realization struck