A Little Country Christmas - Carolyn Brown Page 0,134
People love pirates in this town. It’s part of our history. And even if they do, they’ll be laughing along with us, right? I mean, Yo ho ho.”
She laughed. Because it was funny. And it struck her right then that Keith McMillan would never have dressed up as a pirate. Not in a million years. Because he wasn’t comfortable with his masculinity.
“I guess it is kind of funny in a good way,” she admitted.
“There you go. Say yes. Please.”
“Why? Because I need a little Christmas?”
He shook his head. “No. Because I’d like you to come.” He paused for a moment. “And I’d like to see you wearing that costume.”
For an instant, she might have been riding on the Tower of Terror. Her stomach dropped, and she was free-falling. She certainly didn’t want to fall in love, and she was probably too old for lust. And besides, if she had to fall into anything, it would be best not to do it during the holidays. That would be just plain dumb and risky. “I don’t know,” she said in a strangled tone.
“Please,” he murmured.
She drew in a sharp breath filled with his scent, which was one-part vanilla and another part clean and astringent. She closed her eyes. Would it be so bad to say yes? She opened her eyes and found herself trapped in his twinkly gaze. “Okay.” She breathed the word.
“Great. I’ll drop by with your costume in the next day or two. Maybe we can play the Amy Beach again. I’d really like that.”
“I would too.”
And then he turned and headed out the doors, leaving her alone and weak in the knees.
Chapter Seven
Dylan was furious about something, but Jim couldn’t figure out what. They were sitting in the middle of Rafferty’s dining room grabbing a bite after work, and his son hadn’t said one word in the last fifteen minutes. That wasn’t like Dylan. He would talk about sports or his passion for fly-fishing, but he rarely sat rigid like that, with a pinched look to his mouth.
“You want to tell me what’s bugging you?” Jim asked.
Dylan leaned forward, shoulders hunched. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked in a harsh whisper as if he didn’t want anyone at the next table over to hear him.
Jim glanced in that direction. It looked as if Kerri Eaton was having a nice evening out with her girlfriends. He didn’t think Kerri, the proprietor of the Daffy Down Dilly boutique on Harbor Drive, cared one whit about the discussion happening at Jim’s table. The girls seemed to be having a lovely time.
“I don’t think I’ve lost my mind. What’s the problem?”
“I heard from Debbie Shane that you’ve been visiting Brenda McMillan out at her place. In the evenings. Are you sleeping with that woman?”
Jim almost choked on his beer.
“Dad, are you okay?”
Jim waved Dylan away as he coughed. What the hell? Did Dylan think he was romantically involved with Brenda?
He leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with his napkin, and the idea opened in his mind like a beautiful rose. A romance with Brenda might be fun. It had been a very long time since he’d had a romance with anyone. And he had thoroughly enjoyed the couple of times he’d gone out to her place to work on the Amy Beach sonata.
“Dad? Are you with me?” Dylan asked in an urgent tone.
“I’m fine.”
“So? What’s the deal with you and that woman?”
That woman? Wow. “I’m not sleeping with her,” Jim said. “We’ve been working on a piano and violin sonata. It’s been a long time since I had anyone to play classical music with.”
“So it’s true. You have been going out to her house at night.”
“Is this an interrogation?”
“No. But there’s a lot of gossip, Dad.”
“There always is.”
“And I just heard from Jude that you’ve invited Brenda to join you on Synchronicity Too during the Festival of Lights. You can see how people are putting one and one together. Are you serious about this woman?”
“I guess so. We’re playing serious music together.”
“Really?” Dylan rolled his eyes, clearly not enjoying Jim’s lame dad joke.
“Look, I’m serious about trying to help Brenda find a way to enjoy the holiday. I thought it might be fun for her to join me on Jude’s boat and wear a costume. There are psychological benefits to—”