squad sprang into action, putting on their coats and gloves.
Soren glanced at the velvet bag containing the rings and the picture strip, lying safe in the palm of his hand when an idea so perfect and so Christmas-complete sparked in his mind.
“Wait!” he cried.
“What is it?” the judge asked, buttoning up his jacket.
Soren scanned the room. “Do any of you know how I could get into contact with Agnes and Ernie Angel, the owners of the Cupid Bakeries? They’d said they’d be here, in Kringle, visiting friends through Christmas Day. I need to speak with them before we go anywhere.”
The Santas all grinned at him.
“What?” he asked, not sure why they were smiling.
“Look behind you,” Lawrence Duncan offered, then shared a knowing look with the judge.
Soren turned just as Ernie and Agnes Angel lowered the newspapers that had hidden their faces.
He shook his head in grateful disbelief, then checked the clock on the wall, ticking away precious time.
If this worked, he had a fighting chance.
“Mr. and Mrs. Angel, I have a business proposition for you. But I’m going to need your answer in the next thirty seconds.”
19
Bridget
“There, that’s the last one. It fits like a glove.”
Bridget fastened the top button on the back of Lori’s dress. Her little sister was the picture of a winter bride in their mother’s timeless satin wedding gown. With an elegant boat neckline that revealed the hint of her sister’s shoulders as the three-quarter sleeves hit just below her elbows, Lori was the mirror image of their mother on her wedding day thirty years ago.
She tucked a curl behind her sister’s ear as the women stared at each other in the mirror. How quickly time passed. It seemed like only yesterday she was braiding Lori’s hair in the tiny apartment they shared when it was just the two of them, barely getting by. And now, here they were—back at Kringle Mountain.
This should be one of the happiest days of her life, but a cloud of chaos had come in with the winter storm thanks to Soren’s actions. This morning at breakfast and then again at lunch, no one had spoken of what happened last night. Not even Cole or Carly mentioned it. Everyone had put on a brave face and tried to keep it light. It was Christmas Eve and Lori and Tom’s wedding day, for goodness’ sake. But nobody seemed to know how to navigate the conversation around the missing best man. So, understandably, much of the day had passed in a heavy silence.
No matter. She and Lori had endured the loss of those they loved best. They knew how to press on. And the Abbotts were good people who loved her sister. It would all work out. It had to.
Bridget couldn’t let her guard down. She was determined to get the wedding back on track. But she kept catching glimpses of Soren’s things, lying about inside their room.
No, not their room. Her room.
She still couldn’t make sense of what happened last night—still couldn’t understand why Soren hadn’t even tried to make it right with his best friend. And his words, his cruel and callous words, had shattered her heart.
Why had he reverted to his old ways?
Old ways!
She was fooling herself.
Those weren’t his old ways. Those were his ways. His self-imposed modus operandi.
Yes, he had monstrous parents who planted the idea in his mind that he was unlovable and that there was a part of him that would always be like them. That alone broke her heart. But she had to come to terms with the fact that, as much as she saw the good in him, he didn’t see it. And that would be his greatest downfall.
But that hadn’t kept her from crying herself to sleep last night with the hint of his sandalwood scent in the air. This man, who a week ago meant nothing to her, now invaded her every thought. And as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t forget his touch, his kisses, or the way the breath would catch in her throat and butterflies would erupt in her belly when he said her name.
Bridget Dasher, you’re part angel, part vixen, and all mine.
And she was.
Despite knowing he’d lied when he said that she’d meant nothing to him, she had to put him out of her head. She needed the gift of distance.
And he’d given it to her.
By now, he was most likely long gone.
She’d buried her parents. She’d buried her grandmother. She’d raised her little sister. She had