One Snowy Eve Read online

  For someone who’d had her entire livelihood smashed to bits, Harmony radiated joy.

  At least that’s what Oliver felt when she directed that million-watt smile his way as if he were the most amazing human being on the planet when all he’d done was walk through the door.

  That smile made up for the hell of willfully standing amongst nothing but Christmas nonsense everywhere he looked.

  It was a holiday explosion of artfully twisted cranberry tulle, the scent of cinnamon teasing the air, and exquisitely crafted hand-made gifts from around the world.

  He had to grudgingly admit that she had good taste. There was nothing kitschy about her stock. It was delicately high-end with old-world charm.

  And completely perfect for Snowdon.

  But everything about this place reminded him of someone else that he worked hard to forget.

  No, that wasn’t right. He could never forget Brianne. She’d been the love of his life. Still was the love of his life. There’d never be another to take her place.

  Maybe he’d needed to remind himself of that fact in the wake of that lovely smile because the sparked light in his soul that suddenly caught sputtered to an end and he once again felt right.

  Cold, hard and closed off.

  Protected.

  “So happy to see you again, Det. Thorne,” Harmony gushed, her gaze sparkling with delight. She reached for his coat, “Let me take that for you.”

  Oliver shrugged off his coat and allowed Harmony to hang it on the antique hall tree. He could smell Harmony’s signature scent — something that reminded him of cookies baking to a golden brown and topped with whipped vanilla icing — and he struggled to keep from backing out.

  What was it about this woman that had him dancing on the edge of a razor?

  A moment of panic squeezed his lungs. What the hell was he doing here? Serve and protect, a voice answered with calm precision. That’s right, he was ensuring her safety because the fool woman refused to keep herself safe.

  Bracketing his hips with his hands, he asked, “Okay, so where do we start. If we move quickly and efficiently, we should be able to knock out this job within a few hours.”

  “Oh boy, you never mentioned you were a drill sergeant,” she teased with tinkling laughter, the sound tickling him in places he preferred to keep dormant. She gestured to a big box near the wall. “All right then, let’s get started. Grab that box and bring it over here, carefully, please. Everything in that box is fragile.”

  Relived to have a task, Oliver hefted the large box and carried it to Harmony. As he lowered the box, he caught the subtle awe in her gaze as she commented with appreciation, “You made that box look like it was made of cotton candy. I barely managed to scoot it on my own.”

  “Well, you are about the size of a minute so that’s not surprising,” he responded gruffly, pushing away the immediate warmth her praise created. “Okay, what’s next?”

  And that’s how it went. She directed and he did the heavy lifting. At first it was all about getting it done but about halfway through the day — somewhere among the hot chocolate, mint nibbles and subtle strains of holiday classics filtering in from unknown speakers — Oliver started to enjoy putting the shop to rights.

  Finished, he stared in wonder at the creation behind her vision.

  “I daresay, the reincarnated version is better than the original,” she said, beaming.

  How could anyone be so irrepressibly chipper, he silently wondered. “It looks pretty good,” he admitted. “I mean, for a holiday-themed shop, that is.”

  Harmony cocked her head at him. “Okay, fess up, Det. Thorne, why such aversion to everything sweet, festive and full of cheer?”

  “Too commercial,” he answered. “It’s all about the All-Mighty dollar. Kinda sucks the sweet out of the idea.”

  And his wife died on Christmas Eve but he kept that tidbit behind his tongue.

  “Maybe that’s what it is for some people but others, such as myself, it’s about the goodness of people, the spirit of gratitude and seeking the beauty in a special time of year. Christmas is about possibilities.”

  Pollyanna bull-puckey. Christmas brought out the drunks. The wry retort was on the tip of his tongue but the sparkle in her eyes leached some of the venom from his mouth. Instead, he said, “Guess I just don’t see it that way. In my experience, Christmas brings out the worst in people. Suicide rates, depression, alcohol-related accidents…they all rise during the holidays so not everyone is spitting out Christmas cheer, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m sorry that you see such sad things in your line of work,” Harmony said with genuine concern. “I couldn’t imagine facing such negative things every day in my line of work.” She turned with another bright smile as she surveyed their handiwork, “which is why I’m quite content doing what I do. This is my happy place.”

  “It suits you,” he admitted. Harmony, much like her name, was more suited for gingerbread house construction than hauling in drunken perps and breaking up domestic violence calls amid fallen Christmas trees and spilled whiskey. He took one final look around. “Well, we did it. All within a good time, too.”

  “We make a good team.”

  It was an innocent response.

  He shouldn’t take it as anything more than polite banter.

  But something that’d died a long time ago, awoke with a roar.

  She was so damn nice to look at — his eyeballs just didn’t want to stop staring.

  It wasn’t only that she was easy on the eyes, her soul seemed sweet as the vanilla sugar cookie or whatever the hell perfume she was wearing.

  And he was suddenly fighting a sweet tooth.

  Harmony didn’t want him to go but the shop was finished and she couldn’t think of another organic reason to ask him to stay.

  Don’t be so clingy, she admonished herself, fighting the desperate urge to ask him to dinner. But her mouth wasn’t listening to her brain and the question popped out anyway. “Would you like to have dinner with me?” He looked as startled as she and she rushed to put him at ease. “Nothing romantic, just as a thank you for being so kind. I really couldn’t have finished without your help.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” he said, clearing his throat. She couldn’t tell if her offer had made him uncomfortable or if it were something else. Maybe he had a rule about going out on dates with people involved in open cases. Of course, that made total sense. She was about to let him off the hook gracefully when he surprised her with a short nod. “I will eat dinner with you.”

  “Oh! Lovely. Wonderful!” Was she babbling? Yes, she was most certainly babbling like a ninny but she couldn’t stop smiling, which made coherent conversation difficult at best. “Do you like beef stew? I happen to have some in the slow cooker at home. Call me old-fashioned but I prefer a home-cooked meal to anything else.”

  “Beef stew is acceptable. More than acceptable. I can bring French bread if you like.”

  “If you like that would be lovely. Oh! There’s that word again.” Her smile grew bigger. There was something about him that made her feel as if butterflies were flitting around in her stomach and the air tasted like glittery gumdrops. Oh dear, is that a warning sign? Johnny had made her feel that way, too and look how that turned out.

  Harmony purposefully toned down her smile. “Yes, just a nice thank you for all your hard work on your day off. I wouldn’t feel right sending you home empty-handed.”

  “You don’t have to do that but I appreciate the offer.” He dusted his hands off and went to grab his coat from the hall tree. “What time is good for you?”

  Harmony checked her watch. “How about six-thirty?”

  Oliver paused. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

  “Not at all. This helps ease my guilt for keeping you on your toes on your day off when you should be relaxing.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll see you at six-thirty.”

&nb
sp; They quickly exchanged cell numbers and Harmony sent her address. Oliver headed for the door but as his fingers curled around the ornate door handle she’d salvaged from an estate sale, he turned and said, “I didn’t hate this as much as I thought I would.” Then, he left.

  Harmony’s brows dipped in quizzical amusement before murmuring, “I liked it a little too much, myself.” Fanning herself for a moment, she allowed the tiniest giddy smile before zipping around the shop putting the finishing touches here and there.

  An hour later, she was closed up, with the newly installed video security system recording, and heading home.

  If she hurried, she’d have just enough time to freshen up before setting the table and welcoming her guest.

  It would be nice to have a friend in town.

  It would be nicer to have someone to share her day with, someone to cuddle on the sofa with, their sock-clad toes touching as they watched the fire dance behind the grate.

  A sigh escaped. Ahhh, dang it. Maybe Mac was right, she was always looking in the wrong place and time for a relationship.

  “Your problem is, you’re always trying to see the best in people,” Mac had admonished after her first real fight with Johnny, the one where she should’ve left him behind but instead had taken him back. “That guy is rotten and you need to drop him like a bad habit.”

  “You don’t know him like I do,” she’d protested.

  “Yeah? I never knew Jeffrey Dahmer either but you don’t see me lamenting that fact. Some people are best left in the rearview mirror. Johnny Vargas is one of them.”

  Hindsight was 20/20. Of course, knowing what she knew now, she should’ve stopped making excuses and left him but that’s not how their history had rolled out.

  Her hand strayed to the place where life had once dared to spring. Tears stung her eyes. No, she wasn’t going to go there. Everything happened for a reason, even if it hurt.

  Being tied to Johnny for the rest of her life would’ve been a cruel sentence for herself and their child.

  Her fingers curled around the delicate hand-blown crystal ornament she planned to place on her tree at home. Every year she picked a new one. Something for the child that never had a chance but would never be forgotten.

  Something beautiful for that tiny, beautiful soul.

  “Mama will never forget,” she whispered before hurrying into the cold, determined to shelve the sadness and embrace the positive.

  She was alive and thriving — a gift she would never stop cherishing.

  Oliver came close to backing out at least three times. His finger hovered over Harmony’s number, tempted to call and make an excuse but somehow he ended up in her driveway and he knew he’d lost his chance to make a graceful exit.

  Guilt rode him.

  What was he doing? Eating dinner with a beautiful stranger on the pretenses of polite obligation? Yeah, right. He couldn’t stomach that kind of denial. She smelled like fresh sugar cookies and he wanted a taste.

  And that’s why he was twisting in on himself with guilt.

  How could he even think of another woman in that way after Brianne? That night stole everything from him. If it weren’t for that drunk driver and Brianne rushing from the house to get more wrapping paper, his wife would still be alive and they’d still be blissfully, disgustingly in love.

  They’d been that couple — the one people couldn’t stand to be around for too long because they couldn’t stop staring or touching or laughing with one another. He’d always said Brianne was the best thing that’d ever happened to him.

  And then in a cruel twist of fate, a man named Alan Fleg had climbed into his car after one too many drinks at the local pub and drove head-on into Brianne’s car.

  She died instantly. Fleg made it a few days only to clock out when his alcoholic liver finally gave up the ghost.

  So many lives shattered.

  And now he was waltzing into the home of another woman to eat beef stew? Didn’t seem right.

  Yeah, it wasn’t. He’d been stupid to think that he could or should do this.

  He spun on his heel to get back into his car when Harmony opened the front door. “Come on in, you’re at the right house. Did you have any trouble finding me?”

  No escape now.

  He wasn’t going to hurt Harmony by being rude. Oliver made a pretense of locking his car and turned with, what he hoped, was a friendly smile, saying, “No trouble at all” before bounding up the short steps to meet her at the door.

  “Fantastic,” she said, beaming as she gestured for him to follow. “I hope you’re hungry. I made enough to feed an army.”

  Oliver crossed the threshold into her home and a smile threatened. He wasn’t surprised at how cozy the place seemed. Harmony had a way of making everything seem just perfect with her little homey touches.

  He remembered the old cottage from the previous owners and it hadn’t looked quite as cute as it did now.

  “You really spruced up the place,” he said. “Did you do all the work yourself?”

  “I love to tinker. DIYing is my favorite hobby. When I saw this place, I just knew it was going to be the cutest with a few little changes.” She led him into the dining room where a small table was set with hearty soup bowls and a white soup tureen.

  The beef stew smelled incredible, reminding him that he was hungry enough to eat a bear.

  He handed Harmony the French bread, who made quick work of slicing it up and placing it on the table.

  They settled into their seats and for a moment, Oliver felt as fidgety as a teen on his first date until Harmony said, “Can we both just admit that we’re a little nervous?”

  He cracked a smile. “I guess so. It’s been a while since I…enjoyed a meal with anyone who…well, just you know, not one of the guys.”

  “I’m flattered. I hope the stew makes the cut.” She winked and ladled a heaping bowl, deep with thick cuts of tender beef and hearty vegetables. “I love stew or chili on a blustery day.”

  “It seems perfect for the weather. Good comfort food,” he said.

  “I don’t know how I was born in Florida when my soul craves the colder weather and all that it entails.”

  “You don’t seem like a Florida girl,” he agreed, waiting a moment for Harmony to dish up before he took an exploratory bite. “Oh damn, that’s some pretty good stuff,” he admitted without an ounce of forced flattery. She could cook and she smelled like a dream? Was this woman the devil or an angel?

  “Does it past the savory test?” she asked, taking a bite. “Mmmm,” she practically purred “that just warms everything up.”

  He nearly dropped his spoon. Stuttering, “Yep. Everything is warm all right.” Focusing on his bowl, he shoved another spoonful in his mouth before he said something stupid.

  How did she get prettier from the short time he’d seen her at the shop to sitting across the table from her?

  The soft blond of her hair swayed with lazy curls and the pink in her cheeks rivaled that of her lips.

  Damn his wandering thoughts but she was the most kissable woman he’d seen since his beloved Brianne.

  “I don’t usually do this,” he felt the need to share, grabbing a piece of bread to dip in the stew. “This is out of character for me, I just want you to know.”

  “Oh? I invite virtual strangers over to my house on the regular,” she teased, the corners of those delectable lips turning up in a beguiling smile. “I’m kidding. I don’t do this either. I keep to myself for the most part. As you already know, I had a bad experience with an ex and it soured me against being too open with new people. I used to be much more friendly.”

  He blinked. She already seemed the nicest person he’d ever met. Pure sugar probably flowed through her veins. “I’m sorry you went through that,” he said. “It was probably a good thing you relocated to Snowdon. Distance is critical for safety purposes.”

  “Yes,” she murmured. “I feel safe in Snowdon.” Harmony paused a second before admitting, “well,
mostly because you’ve made me feel very safe. Thank you for that.”

  “Of course. Just doing my job.”

  “Of course.” She took another bite. “And you’re very good at it.”

  “Well, I’d feel better about that praise if I could close the book on your case,” he said.

  She waved away his consternation. “Oh poo on that. I stand in my original assumption that it was a bunch of naughty kids who are definitely getting coal in their stockings this year,” she admonished with mock severity, her lovely voice dropping an octave.

  He chuckled. “You’re kind-hearted.”

  “Well, if I don’t have room in my heart for someone who has made a mistake, I don’t have much of a heart at all. We all make mistakes at some point. Anger is poison and forgiveness is the antidote.”

  “Do you forgive your ex?” he asked, curious.

  “I do. Although my best friend Mac certainly hasn’t,” she said with rueful honesty. “But all I can do is affect the way I handle things. Not others.”

  He nodded, amazed. “You’re the most well-adjusted person I’ve ever met. And the nicest. Good cook, too. Okay, level with me, what are your flaws because no one is this perfect.”

  He delivered the comment with laughter but there was a bit of seriousness to his query. Oliver needed something he could use to hold some distance between them or else, he might find his lips on more than just her stew.

  And that couldn’t happen.

  Simply. Could. Not. Happen.

  Dinner was fabulous, better than she could’ve hoped for. Oliver was funny, charming and witty when he let down his guard.

  And above all, a perfect gentleman.

  But he had seemed determined to keep a bit of distance between them, even though she caught him staring a few times like a wolf ready to feast.

  She suspected he’d been hurt in his past. Everyone had scars. He knew the details of her trauma — the police reports were decidedly thorough — but he hadn’t shared much of his pain and she wasn’t going to pry.

  Was she a terrible person because she’d hoped for a kiss at the end of the night?