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“We should’ve known you’d guess something was amiss,” she said.
Grant chased his cake with a long draw of coffee. Setting the mug down, he ran a hand over his short blond hair. “You’re right. He’s not one to miss details.”
“Noticing details has helped preserve my life. In addition to God’s protection, of course,” he pointed out. “What’s the big secret?”
Jessica found Grant’s hand atop the table and threaded their fingers together. “We’re not quite ready to share this news with anyone outside the family. However, you eat at our table often enough to be considered family.” She shot him an arch smile.
Ben studied their faces, certain what was to come next. He braced himself. Visualized his cheerful response. It had to be a balance of enthusiasm and happiness for the deserving couple.
“We’re having a baby.”
Ben felt his mouth stretching into a smile—a convincing one, he hoped. “That’s wonderful news.”
Sliding his chair back, he moved to hug Jessica, who surreptitiously swiped at her eyes. Grant stood and accepted his bear hug and hearty pats on the back. Still gripping his friend’s shoulders, Ben eased back. “I’m thrilled for you both.”
A flicker of concern temporarily dampened Grant’s expression. Before the other man could voice his thoughts, Ben returned to his seat.
“When’s the bundle of joy set to arrive?”
“Midsummer.” Grant held Jessica close. “Probably late July.”
Wonder and excitement made her eyes shine. The couple had been married more than two years. They must’ve wondered if they’d be able to have children. It occurred to Ben that they’d been happy without children, but then, they hadn’t entered the marriage aware that having a baby wasn’t even a possibility. He couldn’t think of a single woman who’d willingly agree to a childless union.
The summer before his twentieth birthday, he’d suffered a terrible illness that many had feared he’d succumb to. His parents and sisters, along with his fiancée, Marianne Ogden, had kept vigil at his bedside. And while he’d eventually recovered, it hadn’t been without cost. The long bout of mumps had led to complications. Rare ones, his doctor had implied, but they did occur. Ben would not be able to father a child.
He dug into his cake with false enthusiasm. “You’ll be pleased to know I’m available to be the official baby spoiler,” he quipped, winking at Jessica.
“I imagine you’d take quite well to that task,” she responded. “And one day, when the right woman lassoes your heart, I’ll return the favor with your kids.”
Grant grimaced. Ben shot him a quelling look. Of Gatlinburg’s population, Grant Parker was the only soul who knew Ben’s secret. And he was determined to keep it that way.
Chapter Three (#u0c2cd80e-4893-59c4-98d6-cdd58def5d37)
Isabel was closing the mill the following evening when a male figure separated from the shadows.
“Evenin’, sugarplum.”
She jumped and would’ve screamed if her lantern light hadn’t spilled over his all-too-familiar features.
“You again!” She pressed her hand to her throat. “This is becoming a habit.”
An annoying one, at that.
“I apologize for frightening you.”
Ben was dressed in his Sunday best, a black suit that enhanced his vibrant coloring. His hair was combed neatly off his forehead, and his lean cheeks had recently seen a razor blade. The suit jacket molded to his firm shoulders and hung straight to his hips, where the slight bulge of his weapon was noticeable. A navy-and-black plaid wool scarf was wrapped about his neck.
She resisted the urge to ask him where he was headed. Probably to some young lady’s house to engage in what he did best—making women fall in love with him with very little effort.
“I have news to share.” His breath created white clouds in the still air. “This afternoon, I received a response from the Pigeon Forge sheriff’s office. One of their banks was hit in the wee hours of the morning. The perp’s still in the area.”
Freeing her braid from beneath her cloak, she set out for the cabin. Ben fell into step beside her.
“How can you be sure it’s the same man?”
“I can’t, not for sure. We haven’t had any robberies of this type—attempted or otherwise—for nine months or so. However, given our town’s proximity, I’m inclined to believe it is.”
Ascending the stairs, she paused on the porch and curved her hand around the nearest post. “If I promise to be alert to any hint of danger, will you cease these unexpected visits?”
He’d remained on the bottom step, bringing them on an even level. Mild amusement danced over his features. “Come now, there’s no use pretending you don’t enjoy our exchanges.”
For a moment, she put his incorrigible behavior toward women and her poor view of men in general out of her head. Take away those obstacles and she could maybe see his appeal. Not only was he pleasing to look upon—a girl could get lost in those sea-green eyes—he also had an affable personality. He was well liked and respected by many in the community.
“Surely you must know that a woman like me, whose own father engaged in flagrant indiscretions without a thought to what his behavior was doing to his wife and daughters, would never enjoy spending time with a man like you.” She felt as jaded as she sounded.
His light mood vanished. Was that actual regret passing over his face?
She’d never get to hear his response, because it was cut off by her sisters’ intrusion. Honor and Carmen were the epitome of Christmas cheer in their matching holly-red dresses. They’d each requested and received new fabric for their birthdays. They’d taken great pleasure in designing the outfits. Their excited chatter faltered at the sight of Ben.
“Deputy! What a pleasant surprise,” Carmen gushed, testing the artificial flower tucked amid her brunette tresses. “Are you here to escort Isabel to the serenade?”
Adjusting the half cape covering her shoulders, Honor turned astonished eyes on her. “You’ve decided to attend after all?”
“Of course not.”
Isabel eschewed most social gatherings. Why put herself at the mercy of others’ harsh judgment? As the daughter of the infamous Manuel Flores, her presence drew whispers and speculation about her character. Her sisters argued that it was her reclusive nature that fanned the flames of curiosity. She should make more of an effort, they insisted, allow people to get to know her. Then they’d see she didn’t have anything in common with Manuel besides his last name.
“You should hear Isabel singing around the house,” Honor told Ben. “She has a lovely soprano voice.”
“Is that so?” A new reserve held his charm in check.
She imagined his pride had been wounded by her bluntness. He was accustomed to silvery praise and unwavering adulation. Ben MacGregor wouldn’t ever get that from her.
“You should convince her to come with us,” Carmen exclaimed, clapping her hands. “The four of us can go together. It will be tremendous fun!”
“I’m not certain my opinion will hold much sway,” he allowed, his enigmatic gaze locked on her. “You do work very hard, Isabel. How long has it been since you’ve done something out of the ordinary? An activity unconnected with this farm?”
A rebellious impulse reared its head. Even she had to admit her life was a cycle of ordered routine. “I’d planned on spending the evening before the fire with a good book.”
Carmen rolled her eyes and groaned. “You do that every weekend night!”
Isabel refused to be embarrassed. It was no secret that she was a spinster by choice.
“We get hot cider at most of the homes we visit. If it’s been a profitable year, Mr. Hatfield hands out sacks full of apples, oranges, peppermints and nuts. Laura Hatfield hinted this year’s been a good one.” Honor’s dark eyes gleamed. “It’s time for you to break out of your shell.” Linking their arms, she tugged her toward the door. “You could do with a bit of Christmas spirit.”
“I’ll do your hair.” Carmen’s glee was undeniable. “You will wait for us, right, Deputy?”
Isabel silently willed him to refuse. His slow-growing smile dissolved her hopes.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Isabel’s mood plummeted. Not only would she be attending the serenade, but she’d be arriving with the most popular bachelor in these mountains. This night would be talked about for weeks, possibly months, to come. Her life’s goal to avoid attention had been thwarted by her interfering sisters and one highly vexing lawman.
* * *
“What do you think, Deputy? Doesn’t she look festive?”
Hands in his pockets, Ben turned from studying the somber family photograph on the mantel and caught his breath. Carmen urged Isabel forward while Honor trailed behind, checking their handiwork.
A dozen flowery compliments popped into his head. He suppressed them all. She would label whatever he said insincere, so he opted for a casual response. “Indeed, she does.”
Her dress had been crafted of lush velvet, a deep green the color of a spruce bough. The snug bodice had a rounded neckline trimmed with ribbon and gave way to a swath of material falling in graceful folds to kiss the floorboards. Isabel’s hair had been swept off her neck and coiled into an elegant style. She was the epitome of feminine sophistication.
Her sisters looked disappointed by his low-key reaction. Isabel avoided his gaze as she circumvented the furniture in a swish of skirts.
“Are we riding or walking?”
“I readied the wagon,” Ben said, joining her at the coatrack. While she tugged on her gloves, he retrieved her wool cloak and held it open for her. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Isabel pursed her lips and, after the slightest hesitation, stood still and allowed him to drape the heavy garment over her shoulders. He took the liberty of fastening the clasps, taking a moment to breathe in her unique, feminine scent, a blend of spices and orange.
Her gaze pinned his. “We’re going to create a spectacle, arriving with you.”
“Yes, we will,” he concurred with a grin. “I’ll be the envy of every man there.”
She brushed his hands aside and took a step back. “And we will be unpopular with the women.”
“Only the ones without beaux,” Carmen inserted with a straight face.
At the Johnson farm, the serenade’s starting point, he assisted the Flores sisters from the wagon and looked up to find a veritable sea of shocked countenances. Three wagons fitted with hay squares would take the group around to the appointed residences. Already some of the young people had found seats. Others conversed in clusters about the yard.
Beside him, Isabel stood as stiff as a mannequin, braced for flaming arrows to descend. He could almost see her hatching an escape route.
“Everyone’s staring.”
He dipped his head close. “That’s because they’re as in awe of your beauty as I am.”
Her dark gaze swerved to his in instant irritation. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, look, there’s John.” Carmen nudged Honor.
John Littleton separated himself from his friends. Taller than most, the dark-headed farmer was easy to pick out in a crowd. His gray eyes glowed with pride as he put his arm around Honor and kissed her cheek.
To Ben’s knowledge, the couple had been together for more than a year and were obviously crazy about each other. He wondered why they hadn’t already set a wedding date. The Littleton family had a thriving farm on the west side of town. John’s older sister had already married and moved away, leaving a starter cabin uninhabited.
“Good evening, ladies. Deputy.” Smiling, he raised his brows at Isabel. “I’m surprised to see you here. What did your sisters have to do to convince you?”
“They didn’t give me much of a choice.” Though her tone was disgruntled, Isabel’s expression had softened somewhat. “How is that knife working out for your father?”
“He’s been showing it off to his friends, so I’d say he’s very satisfied. They’re pestering him to divulge where he got it.”
“He won’t, will he?” Isabel asked, worried.
“John said he would need one for himself in order to continue keeping your secret.” Honor snuggled close to his side and grinned cheekily up at him.
“Don’t believe her.” He chuckled. “She’s simply stumped as to what to get me for Christmas.”
Reaching up, she straightened his tie. “That’s not true. I’ve actually already decided on a gift, and it has nothing to do with weapons.”
He snapped his fingers. “A shame.”
John brought out a sassy side in the quiet girl. Glancing at Isabel, Ben was shocked to witness her open approval. Apparently her dislike of men didn’t extend to her sister’s beau. How had John managed to get in her good graces?
“Virgil and Timothy have saved us a spot in their wagon,” John said. “Would you like to sit with us?”
“No, thanks.” Carmen waved to a cluster of girls her age. “I’m going over to talk to Rosa and the others. I’ll meet up with you later.”
As she hurried off, Honor peered toward said wagon and frowned. “John, it’s already filling up. Looks like there’s only enough room beside Virgil for the two of us.”
John looked apologetic. “We could sit in that last one—”
“No, that’s okay,” Isabel intervened. “The deputy and I will find our own spots.”
When the couple had gone, Ben guided her to the rear wagon, the least occupied of the three. “What does a man have to do to obtain one of your knives?”
Caught off guard, her brows pulled together. “I didn’t realize you wanted one.”
“I—”
“Ben!” The Smith sisters, both brunette, petite and hazel eyed, blocked their way. “We’ve been waiting ages for you to arrive.” The eldest by eighteen months, Laila gifted him with a sunny smile. “We’ve saved a seat for you in the second wagon.”
“Tommy Hatfield’s driving,” Lynette told him in a confidential tone. “He avoids the ruts and dips, ensuring a smooth ride.”
Ben liked the girls well enough. When they weren’t hinting about what great wives they’d make, Laila and Lynette were pleasant company. He often spent Sunday evenings in the Smith home, more for their father’s company than anything else. Allen Smith reminded Ben of his own pa, whom he didn’t get to see often. He had a feeling the sisters wouldn’t be thrilled with that bit of insight.
“That was thoughtful of you, ladies, but we’re taking the third one. I like to observe what’s up ahead.”
Squinting at their driver, a rotund man in overalls, Lynette uttered a disapproving noise. “Ollie’s got night blindness. He almost ran a group into the woods last year.”
Ben choked on a laugh. “We’ll take our chances, right, Isabel?”
Laila’s countenance lost some its brilliance. “I didn’t realize you and the deputy were close acquaintances.”
“We’re not.” She silently implored him to concur.
He shrugged. “I happened to be in the vicinity of the Flores property at the appropriate time. Made sense to come together.”
Mr. Johnson let loose a shrill whistle and announced they’d set out in five minutes.
