Four

Her hair was so beautiful, like threads of gold spun just for him.

—Hailey Fairchild, What the Heart Seeks

Carwyn is coming out of the hardware store, just two stores down. If he sees me looking like a green-haired monster, I'll

never survive the mortification. I am not that strong. I dash for my car, which is parked halfway between the salon and the hardware store. If I can just get in it,

I can duck down and hide until he passes.

Dashing through the snow works fine if you're wearing the snow boots you packed and not the cute shooties you just had to

wear to prove that you, too, could look like a social media influencer.

I almost make it to the car before I hit a slippery patch. My arms start to windmill, and my body waves back and forth like

those tall, inflatable, yellow sausage people you see at car dealerships. I'm doing the holiday hula and making shrieky noises.

And here goes my right foot out from under me. Down I go, hitting the sidewalk with an "Eeep!" Oh no. Get up .

I try, but I end up scrabbling around like I'm at a roller rink with wheels on my feet.

"Here, let me help you," says a deep voice.

I don't even have to look up to know it's Carwyn. I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Hailey," Carwyn says with a big smile as he lifts me to my feet. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lie, brushing off my coat. If you don't factor in complete mortification. I know my face is red. I can feel

the flame burning through my cheeks. He's staring at my hair, making the flame hotter. A corner of his mouth lifts. He's about

to laugh, I know it. I'd probably laugh, too, if it wasn't me.

He quickly pulls that corner back down and coughs to choke back the laugh. "It looks like you're getting in the Christmas

spirit."

I could pretend I don't know what he's talking about, but since I'm not carrying any bags filled with goodies, there's no

point in it. "I just got my hair done," I say, lifting my chin, daring him to laugh. Now there is a three-alarm fire on my

face.

"It's..." He clears his throat. He covers a fresh guffaw with a cough. "It's... festive."

"It's awful," I say miserably, losing my bravado.

He goes from amused to pitying. "It's not that bad, really."

"Yes, it is."

"Okay, yes, it is. Who did that to you, and what did you ever do to her?"

I sigh. "Gwendolyn Payne. She and Sam are together now."

He nods. "Yeah, Sam told me. I'm sure she's changed."

I point to my hair. "You think?"

He lifts his shoulders. "Bad hair stylist day?"

I'm not laughing.

"Hey, it's no big deal, really. Lots of women do crazy things to their hair."

Not me. I never do anything crazy. I only get wild in my imagination. Although Gram might say different. She'd like me to

get a lot wilder.

"I'm going to have to buy a wig," I say miserably. Yes, this is a memorable conversation I'm having with the star of my recent fantasy.

"How about a hat, instead?" he suggests. "Come on, I'll help you pick one out. I just saw some in Ray's." He takes my gloved

hand and starts leading me toward the hardware store.

This is... strange. I'm holding hands with Carwyn Davies, and we're going... hat shopping. In the hardware store. The

heroes and heroines in my books would come up with a better activity than this. Why can't I craft my real life to match my

fiction?

"I heard you were coming back for Christmas. Welcome home," he says, and I try not to think of the glamorous reunion I'd dreamed

of.

In the hardware store, he hands me various knitted hats to try on—long stocking caps, several in Seahawks colors and sporting

pom-poms. I'm not into football, so I pass on those. Finally, I pick a gray wool hat with a turned-up brim that will hide

the green.

"It's nice," he says in approval. "It shows off your eyes."

My eyes aren't all that exciting. They're hazel and too round for the current fashion. I know he's shoveling it on thick.

"And my glasses," I joke and push my glasses up my nose.

"Okay," he says after I've made my purchase (while keeping the hat on—made ringing it up interesting). "Now that you don't

feel like you have to run for cover, how about going out for something to eat?"

"In public?" I squeak. It's liable to get hot in one of Cascade's handful of restaurants, and no way am I taking this hat

off.

"Big Ben's Burgers. We can eat in my car."

Burgers with Carwyn, like we're... what? What are we? Two neighbors who ran into each other, that's all. I tell my imagination

not to go romping off someplace silly.

"Anyway, I owe you."

I cock a questioning eyebrow.

"For almost laughing," he says and smiles. That smile could melt a snowman at twenty paces.

"Come to think of it, you do," I say, so off to Ben's we go.

We order peppermint milkshakes. I know I'm strong, but who can resist a peppermint milkshake?

"Everyone's talking about you being back in town," he says and crams a couple of french fries in his mouth. "You're like a

returning hero."

"Hardly," I say.

"Local girl becomes famous author."

"I'm not that famous, and everybody writes books these days."

"Nobody around here."

I work up my nerve and ask, "How about you? Are you impressed?"

"Absolutely," he says. He shakes a fry at me. "But then I always knew you'd go on to great things. You were so smart, always

with your nose in a book."

Hiding sometimes, if I'm being honest. Which I'm not, at least not now. "You've done pretty well for yourself," I say. "High

school principal. That's an important job. What's next, superintendent of the district?"

He shakes his head. "No, I've got my hands full just taking care of things at the high school. And with my folks."

"Your folks?"

"I guess your mom didn't tell you. My dad's been diagnosed with Parkinson's."

I don't know what to say. This feels like a gut punch. If it feels that way to me, what must it have felt like to Carwyn when

he first heard the diagnosis?

"He was beginning to slow down, joking about starting old age early. But then he started to complain about muscle stiffness. When the tremors began, we took him to a specialist in Seattle. He's still doing pretty good so far, but we're bracing for things to get worse."

"I don't suppose your brother can come home," I ventured.

"From Burkina Faso? No, not right now. Anyway, he's doing important work."

"So are you," I point out.

"I'm already here. Anyway, we're managing. My parents will need more help over time. It's gonna be hard for Dad. Already is."

He looks so sad. I wish I could hug him.

He shifts gears, back into cheerful. "Mom's looking forward to your book signing," he says, signaling that the subject is

closed.

"She's coming? That's nice," I say. I'm glad some people are coming—it's the ultimate humiliation to do a book event and have

no bodies there—but I also don't want a huge crowd.

"Everyone's coming," he says.

"Everyone?" I squeak.

"Hometown girl makes good, remember?"

His phone dings with a text. He checks it. "I'm gonna have to cut this short."

"Oh." I sound disappointed. How pathetic is that?

It's a girlfriend, of course. Carwyn Davies isn't married—if that had happened, I would have heard about it—but he's got to

have a girlfriend. He's too gorgeous, too nice, too... everything not to have one.

"I promised Mom I'd help Dad get the tree up," he says.

"Oh, I thought you had a girlfriend waiting for you," I say lightly.

He's suddenly serious again. "There's no one in my life, Hailey."

"There should be," I blurt. Great. Now I'm sure my face is as red as Santa's suit.

"I had a couple of almosts, but in the end they never felt right." He smiles. "Maybe, down the road..."

I'm imagining the way he's looking at me, I'm sure of it. "You'll run out of gas right in front of her house," I quip lightly. A perfect meet-cute.

"Or find her next door," he says, just as lightly. "What about you?" he asks. "You have to have someone."

I shrug. "I thought I did. It turned out to be a mistletoe mistake."

He half smiles at that. "Mistletoe mistake, huh? I can remember one of those."

"You can?"

"You were my first mistletoe mistake," he says.

"Me! No way."

He shakes his head and gives a rueful smile. "Talk about deflating a guy's ego. You couldn't get away from me fast enough."

"I had onion breath," I protest. "And it was all so embarrassing. I mean, honestly, Sam calls over the hottest guy in town

and says, ‘Kiss my sister.' I thought I'd die."

"Hottest guy in town, huh?"

Speaking of, can my face get any hotter? "You know you are," I say, disgusted over betraying myself.

He grins. "Did you have a crush on me?"

"Oh, who didn't?" I say irritably.

He starts his car. "This is interesting stuff. We need to continue this conversation."

"No, we don't," I mutter. I've humiliated myself enough for one day.

"I know you're gonna be busy," he says when we get back to my car, "but I hope you won't be too busy for your neighbor."

Carwyn Davies wants to hang out. Okay, am I dreaming this? "I might be able to fit you in," I say with a smile.

Then, once I'm back in my car, I pinch myself. Ouch! Nope, I'm not dreaming. I will have some pages to fill in that journal tonight.

***

"Oh my," says Mom when she sees my hair. I'd forgotten about my hair for a while there. Now I frown, and she quickly adds,

"It will fade after a couple of washings."

Right.

I move to a more important topic. "You never told me about Mr. Davies."

"I should have. I forgot."

"Pretty big news to forget," I say.

She sighs. "I guess there never was quite the right time to tell you. Whenever we texted or talked, we had so many other things

to discuss."

Like my love fails. Or how I'm struggling to write this new book, thanks to my mistletoe disillusionment. My conversations

with my editor, my concerns about cover art. There hasn't been much conversational room for anyone else. How humiliating.

***

Sam comes home, takes one look at my green hair, and goes all ho ho ho hysterical.

"It's not funny," I say. "Your girlfriend did this on purpose."

He stops laughing and his brows pull together. "Gwen wouldn't do that."

"Of course she would. That's how she's wired."

He scowls. "Hey, you're talking about the woman I'm in love with."

I sigh inwardly and backpedal. "Maybe I'm imagining she did it on purpose."

"Of course you are. Gwen doesn't have a mean bone in her body."

Not one but a whole collection. And there's no escaping her. She will be the holly thorn in my side clear through to New Year's. Or longer, if she and Sam make things permanent.

Sam stuck with Gwendolyn— there's a terrible thought! Seeing my brother freed from her is now at the top of my Christmas wish list. That won't be easy. Santa's

elves sure have their work cut out for them.