dinner.”
Everyone was so…friendly. Everyone.
Christa smiled, certain she could be very happy here in this little town.
Happy enough you could skip poker?
She started, realizing for the first time that she’d been in Everland almost two weeks now and hadn’t considered going back to The Gingerbread House for another game. Of course, for the first few days, she’d been researching, and for the last week, she’d been…
…gallivanting about with Andrew?
I was going to say, “…dressed as a woman,” but I suppose that works.
Same thing.
Her lips tugged into a smirk at her own inner argument, willing to admit her foolishness to herself at least. Yes, she hadn’t thought about the poker table because she’d been having so much fun with Andrew. As a woman.
For the first time in a long while, she, well, she felt like a woman. Not just the dress she was wearing, but by the way he treated her. Andrew made her feel beautiful and desirable. And heaven knew the desire she was feeling toward him was all sorts of womanly.
He wasn’t relying on her the way her family did. He wasn’t sitting across from her at the poker table—not anymore at least—cursing her for winning again. He was just treating her like a lady, and she found she enjoyed it.
Very much.
Around her, the conversation had turned to the upcoming Christmas celebrations, and she learned she’d hear Vincenzo play at church.
“He’s really remarkable,” Ian said teasingly, “but don’t tell him I said that.”
“I’m blind, not deaf,” Vincenzo quipped blandly. “And you ought to hear Eddie play. He’s really inherited— I mean, the lad is talented.”
Christa wondered if anyone else had caught his stumble and vowed to learn the story of Vincenzo and Arabella’s courtship as soon as possible.
“Speaking of Eddie,” Andrew rumbled by her side, “it appears he’s found a hat.”
“Can I get this one, Mother?”
Arabella patted Ella on the arm and turned to study her son. “I suppose that will be fine. It’s a bit big, but we won’t have to buy a new one next year, assuming this one makes it that long.”
“Yes,” the boy said, trying to sound more mature than he was, especially with a too-big-hat cocked over one eye, “that’s what I thought as well.”
Vincenzo chuckled. “Well, it looks wonderful to me.” When Eddie laughed and rolled his eyes, his father called flamboyantly, “Tally it up, Ian! And add in some of those peppermint sticks I can smell! We need more Christmas in our house!”
Laughing, Arabella placed a few more purchases on the counter. “These as well please. Vincenzo refuses to eat my baking since Gordy married Briar—they still insist on delivering treats to him—but the man will have to put up with my pie crust on Christmas, whether he likes it or not.”
“Oh, horror!” Vincenzo shuddered, but it was false enough to make Christa turn her head and press her face against Andrew’s shoulder to hide her giggle.
The bell jingled again, and a new voice called out, “Is my wife in here?”
Ian, without missing a beat, called back, “We have a few wives in here. Are you missing one?”
A man came stomping around the corner of the shelves. He wore his long blond hair tied back in a queue and carried himself like a sailor. Christa could even see a hint of a tattoo on the back of his hands as he pulled off one glove to scratch his nose.
“Have you seen Marina? I’ve been chasing her around town all morning feels like.”
Ella chuckled. “You just missed her. She was here before Andrew, picking up some of that medicine her grandmother prefers.”
The newcomer nodded to Andrew, even as he sighed. “I swear, Daj knows that stuff is just sugar water, but the woman is made of teak and steel, and she always gets what she demands.”
“Is she ailing?” Andrew asked with concern.
Shaking his head, the man pulled his glove back on. “Teak and steel, I tell you. She’s weathered a hundred storms, and I think she’ll likely outlive us all. Hello,” he said to Christa, with a warm smile.
“Skip, this is my friend, Christa,” Andrew offered, introducing her yet again. “Darling, this is Skipper King, whose wife’s grandmother—Daj—lives nearby. Skip is an architect and carpenter. He designed and built, not just the new orphanage, but my home as well.”
“And mine,” Vincenzo offered.
“And MacKinnon’s Restaurant,” Ella called out.
A red flush began to creep over Skip’s face. “Aw, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“On the contrary,” Christa assured him. “You have a real talent from