Chapter One
Abigail Moore stepped back from the display window to study her handiwork with a critical eye. The new owner-in-training would arrive any minute now, and things needed to be perfect. She couldn’t risk having him back out of the sale.
The gingerbread theme turned out exactly the way she wanted it to. Cheerful but not saccharine sweet, decorative but not in-your-face, and muted enough to catch the eye of window shoppers without making her want to tear her own eyes out with the overabundance of a Christmas holiday she couldn’t bear to celebrate.
Her phone alarm buzzed in her pocket, reminding her that Enrique Gonzalez would walk through the door momentarily.
Heart thudding in her chest and hardly believing she’d soon be stepping into the next chapter of her life, she prayed for surviving one last holiday season in a town that had turned its compassionate back on her and her daughter.
At precisely nine o’clock, the door swung open, setting off the Christmas chimes that had enchanted her since she was a small child coming to work with her parents. Now they sent chills up her back every time they sang their joyful chorus. If she planned to stay she would replace them, but her realtor told her the chimes were one of the things Enrique had liked the most.
She started to move forward, but when the man entering her small shop turned to face her, she froze like the snowman her daughter, Hannah, kept hoping to build. Luckily for Abigail, the snow hadn’t yet arrived.
But the devil apparently had.
She didn’t like the flipping in her belly at the sight of his warm brown eyes and his dark tan skin. He smiled at her with the warmth of a cup of cocoa, and like a marshmallow, she melted.
His lips curled into a taunting smile. He knew the effect his handsome from-out-of-town appearance had on her.
She hadn’t been attracted to anyone since, well, since the last out-of-towner who had strolled so confidently into her shop so many years ago. And look how well that had turned out.
She shifted her gaze from the man who made her legs shake to the young girl standing shyly next to him, peeking out at Abigail with her face half-buried in her dad’s long wool coat.
Abigail smiled at the little girl and stepped closer, easing herself into a squat.
“Well hello there, my friend. My name is Abigail, and I’m so very pleased to see you here today.”
The little girl buried her entire face in her dad’s coat, and Abigail thought she heard a small whimper. Enrique reached his arm back to pat his daughter on the back, his face betraying his worry.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to say hello yet. I’m going to talk to your dad for a minute.” Abigail stood up, finally recovering her nerve and her manners. She reached out a hand and introduced herself to the handsome new owner. “I’m Abigail.”
“So you said.” His eyes twinkled.
Her cheeks reddened.
Come on!
“Welcome to Abby’s Toy Chest. Though I assume you’ll be changing the name.”
He tilted his head and his forehead wrinkled slightly, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him.
“This was your parent’s shop, right?”
“Yes, they opened it when my mom was pregnant with me. They took a real gamble and named it before they knew for sure if I was a boy or girl. Imagine if they put all that money into making signs and marketing materials and I came out a boy? Joke would be on them, huh?”
She pinched herself on the thigh to remind herself not to babble. She had almost emitted a snort to accompany her nervous laughter. How embarrassing would that have been?
She cleared her throat and tried for a more professional tone. “But yes, mostly people these days just refer to it as, ‘The Christmas Place Downtown.’”
He slowly glanced around the room, his eyes soaking up the magic she had once been able to see in the nooks and crannies her parents had so lovingly built.
“Hope and I knew as soon as we walked in here that this is where we want to spend our days.”
“Hope is your wife?”
He chuckled, but the smile didn’t encompass his face the way it had when he first greeted her.
“No wife. Hope is my daughter.”
“Oh, my apologies. I should have known that someone with such a pretty eye would have such a pretty name. I bet the other eye is just as pretty. Maybe I’ll be able to see it sometime.”
The gentle teasing encouraged the girl to shift her head to show that she did in fact possess two very pretty eyes, but she quickly shielded her face almost as soon as she had revealed herself.
“You plan to have Hope spend the days here with you?”
He nodded. She resisted the urge to reach out and fix the errant lock of his hair that stood out to the side like it was dancing to its own tune. The only thing on him that seemed out of place.
“That’s wonderful! I grew up here with my parents. And now my daughter comes to work with me. I love it. I have a little back room that I set up as a nursery. My daughter is in there now, playing on her tablet. I know screen time is a big no-no for a four-year-old, but sometimes it’s the only thing that helps me maintain my sanity. You know?”
“I’m not judging. We have plenty of screen time in our house, too. I think people who say it’s a big no-no probably have teams of people helping them out. Or at least one other person on their team.”
His eyes searched her for answers, but all she could do was stare at the floor.
“That must be your daughter…” He gestured behind Abigail, his grin growing bigger again. “I’d say she’s done with screen time.”
Abigail hadn’t heard her daughter approach, and Hannah was not known for being a quiet child. Was she that distracted by this handsome newcomer? But when Enrique stared in the direction of the window display, a cold sweat spilled out over Abigail’s body.
She spun around in time to watch as Hannah reached over to grab one of the gingerly placed stuffed gingerbread people from the carefully constructed window display.
“Hannah, down from there!”
Hannah’s ears apparently stopped working, because she didn’t even hesitate. Abigail cringed as her precious prodigy—having already climbed up on a stool that was part of the display—reached up to pull the toy from the hanging display, delicately tied to a string of Christmas lights that lined the perimeter of the ceiling. The gingerbread had been placed to reach down as if it were rescuing its friend from the super-sized cookie sheet on the wrought-iron table, where a family of elves was getting ready to decorate their “cookies.” As soon as Hannah reached the hand of the dangling gingerbread, the entire display fell down around her, knocking her off the stool and burying her in a tangle of twinkling lights and the team of gingerbread stuffed animals and plush snowflakes that had accompanied them.
Abigail and Enrique reached Hannah’s side at the same time. Enrique lifted the wayward child from the rummage, setting her to the side so Abigail could inspect her for boo-boos. Looking adorable clutching the gingerbread child to her chest, Hannah was oblivious to the fact that now the entire display continued to cave in behind her. In fact, she looked quite pleased with herself after her adventure. The gingerbread toy she clung to so possessively hung on by the threads it had been tied up with, so Enrique wordlessly worked to disconnect the threads from the string of lights.
Abigail swept Hannah up and hugged her tight when what she really wanted to do was cry in frustration. She had worked until late in the night on that display, forcing Hannah to sleep in the shop’s nursery until Abigail could carry her home in the wee hours of the morning, only to come back here bright and early to put the finishing touches on the display.
And yet here she stood, powerless to stop the many hours of effort from plunging into a heap of gingerbread chaos.
“Mommy, this one wanted to play with me.”
Abigail closed her eyes and searched for her inner calm. It wasn’t Hannah’s fault that her mom had been distracted.
“Sweetheart, please remember that you need to ask me if there’s a toy you want to play with, other than what’s in your toy box. Mommy worked very hard to make that window display, and I’m sad that it’s ruined. Mostly I was scared that you could have been hurt.”
“I’m okay, Mommy!” Still in her mom’s arms, Hannah pulled back from the hug and lifted the gingerbread up in front of her. Then, as if remembering her mom’s words, she looked at Abigail with bright, innocent eyes and said she’d clean up the mess.
Tears prickled at the back of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of her child, and she especially didn’t want to cry in front of Enrique. The window display could be repaired. She just needed a good night of sleep.
“Thank you, little lamb. But I will take care of it this time. And you need to promise to never, ever climb up there again. Understand?”
She let Hannah slide to the floor, watching as she rushed over to Enrique’s side, where he continued to remove the mess in the window so the tourists and townspeople wouldn’t see it.
“I’m so sorry about that. She doesn’t usually do stuff like that. Please leave it. I’ll take care of it as soon as we get you settled.”
“That display was too hard to resist.” His teeth gleamed against the bright lights of the store, and the dimple close to the corner of his mouth reassured her that he wasn’t offended by her child’s rebellion.
Hope had at some point returned to her father’s side, peering curiously around him to see the now piled up toys.
Hannah, little miss social butterfly, danced her gingerbread in front of Hope’s face.
“Hannah, baby. Hope might not want you to put that toy in her face like that. Why don’t you ask her if she’d like to play with some of your toys? Or if she’d like to pick her own gingerbread stuffy?” Abigail gestured toward the heap of toys in the window and let a tired laugh escape. “Go ahead, Hope! I bet one of those stuffies would love a little girl’s hugs after their ordeal.”
A tiny voice responded, but Abigail couldn’t hear her words. She knelt beside her and leaned forward encouragingly. Hope buried her face again, so Abigail reached over to grab one of the toys and, in a dramatic, playful voice, said, “That was scary, falling like that! May I please have some Hope hugs? Pretty please with gumdrops on top?”
A muffled laugh emerged, and Hope’s tiny shoulders bounced slightly.
Abigail continued, “Ouchie, my arm hurts—I think an elf landed on me! Is it broken?”
Hope turned her head slightly away from her father’s coat to watch as Abigail pretended to inspect the toy for damage.
“You look good enough to eat, Mr. Gingerbread. But maybe Hope will be able to tell for sure.”
Hoping her silliness had worked, Abigail offered the toy to Hope. Hope pulled away slightly, her shoulders folding inward as if needing to protect the girl, but she continued studying the toy in Abigail’s hands.
Abigail waited. Curiosity colored the girl’s expression. She would overcome her shyness and fear and take the toy. Abigail knew it in the pit of her stomach. She just had to remain patient and not move fast so as not to frighten the girl.
Hannah ran over and pressed her body tightly against Abigail’s, nearly knocking Abigail off-balance. Abigail smiled at her sweet daughter, then made the toy she held do a little dance in front of Hope’s eyes—eyes so full of fear but with something shining in them that told Abigail they hid a deep well of, well, hope.
Abigail felt Enrique watching her as she waited for Hope to accept her offering. He must have sensed the importance of this interaction. Silence permeated the shop, punctuated only by the Christmas music playing softly over the speakers and Hannah’s gentle, watchful breaths in Abigail’s ear.
Arm growing stiff, Abigail continued to hold the toy in front of Hope.
Slowly and shyly, Hope reached out to grasp the toy. Abigail was about to let out a cheer, but she realized it was best to keep her reaction low-key. She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over her face as Hope hugged the toy to her chest in the same manner that her sweet Hannah had done only moments ago.
Abigail glanced up to see Enrique beaming brightly, as if he had just witnessed a miracle.
Though she had only known them for what amounted to a gentle flurry in time, Abigail knew this moment was somehow as monumental as a blizzard. She didn’t know Hope or Enrique or what had happened in their lives up until they had walked through the door, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this girl had already gone through more than a young child should have to face.
But now she was smiling.
Abigail stood up, using one of her hands to straighten out the long skirt that had bunched while she squatted. Feeling Enrique’s tense look of appreciation—for helping to make his daughter comfortable, that was all—her cheeks grew warm.
Why did he have to be so handsome?
“Now that that’s settled, what do you think about bringing your gingerbreads over for a little tea party? Maybe you can set it up together!”
Hannah bounced in place, eager for Hope to join her in play.
Enrique smoothed the top of Hope’s hair. “Go ahead, mi cariño. That gingerbread girl looks like she could use a drink.”
The soothing gentleness of his faintly accented tone set Abigail at ease immediately, even though she wasn’t the target of his reassurance.
Apparently it worked on Hope, too. After standing on tiptoes and gesturing for Enrique to lower his ear to her face so she could whisper to him, the little girl with the unruly hair followed the rambunctious Hannah to the back of the shop where a small table awaited their tea party.
“You have such compassion for children.”
His compliment sent swirls of giddiness through her belly. She had been given similar praise on countless occasions—if she hadn’t been expected to help her parents with the store, she would have become a teacher—yet something about his praise had her hands shaking and her legs feeling like they needed to move before they gave out on her.
“Thank you, Enrique. Your daughter is a sweetheart.”
“Yours as well. Growing up in the store must have shaped her into quite the social bee.”
Abigail nodded and laughed gently. “She was practically greeting customers from day one. Now if I could keep her out of the window displays…”
“I always say it’s best if they aren’t too perfect.”
“True,” Abigail agreed. “They need to keep us on our toes somehow.”
Did his smile have to be so warm? So friendly?
She broke the spell his eyes held over her with a hard shake of her head as she strode to the checkout counter. She had planned to start the day by giving him a tour of the inner workings of the shop, and had closed down for the day so they wouldn’t be interrupted by shoppers. He’d need to familiarize himself with the day-to-day operations even if he decided to make changes to the way things were run.
An unexpected pang sliced through her heart at the thought of the shop being altered. Change was inevitable—she had known that when she made the decision to sell. But change was no longer an abstract, future idea, but rather a concrete, happening-now sort of thing.
Happy. Be happy. This is what you wanted.
And it was. She wanted out of Healing Springs. She needed to get herself and her daughter out before Hannah was old enough to understand the scandal that had cast so many side-glances and nasty rumors their way.
“I’m sorry again for that crazy introduction to your first day here. Hopefully things will go smoother now that we got the chaos out of the way.” She faked her brightest smile, but at the sweet expression on his face, the smile grew more convincing to her own mind.
Man, he set her at ease like meditation and aromatherapy never had.
“I refuse to accept your apologies because nothing about this day warrants feeling sorry.”
He reached out to place what she supposed was meant to be a comforting hand over hers, but she jerked back upon contact, covering her panicked reaction with pretending that she had been about to operate the cash register. Heat rushed to her cheeks once again, and she couldn’t look at him.
What was wrong with her? Why did such a gentle touch elicit such a powerful reaction?
Her loneliness had become crippling. Even the slightest kindness made her want to cry in relief.
Obviously Enrique was a kind, easygoing man. Most likely he excelled at bringing comfort to all the lonely single mamas. Probably to everyone he encountered.
But this was a professional relationship. And though she didn’t have a lot of experience in this arena, she would do her best to maintain what little bit of her pride remained.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Enrique said, his tone conciliatory. “I just didn’t want you to worry.”
“You didn’t. Thank you. I figured since we’ve already wasted so much time, we should go ahead and get started.”
She avoided looking at him for the next several hours as the girls played in the back of the store and they went through the opening procedures, check-out protocol, pricing, ordering stock, and the filing system she had grown so proud of since straightening out the mess her father had left to her. He had been a brilliant small town business owner, but organization had not been his forte, and most of his tax information had been stored in plastic grocery bags.
“Mommy, we’re hungry.”
Hannah’s words penetrated a fog of concentration, and Abigail lifted her phone to check the time.
“No wonder you’re hungry—it’s already one o’clock.” She lifted apologetic eyes to Enrique. “Guess I got swept up in the excitement of administrative duties.”
He winked. Winked! She should have continued avoiding eye contact, because that simple, teasing gesture had her belly rolling and tingles running over her skin.
“It has been pretty exciting. I’m surprised our girls haven’t demanded food before now, to be honest.”
“Me too. Hannah is constantly eating.”
“She has a lot in common with Hope.”
Suspicion tugged at her mind. Hannah would never go so long without asking for a snack…
Confident that she was onto something, Abigail went to the back of the shop, where, sure enough, she discovered the secret stash of Christmas candy wrappers tucked carefully into the toy teapot they had long ago abandoned in favor of building with the multi-colored wooden blocks.
“Hannah…”
Hannah smiled brightly, knowing she’d never be in serious trouble.
Was she being too soft when it came to disciplining her daughter? Was she allowing her to get away with too much, simply because Abigail felt so bad for what she had allowed their lives to become?
“You do not take candy without permission.”
“I was hungry!”
“Then you ask me and I’ll give you something appropriate.”
Hope ran to hide behind her father once again, and Abigail wondered if she had sounded too harsh to the shy girl’s insecure ears. Clearly she needed to find a balanced way to address issues around here.
Enrique scooped Hope up in his arms, and though Abigail couldn’t understand what he said to her since he spoke Spanish to his daughter, she could tell by the tone and the way Hope’s shoulders relaxed that he had soothed her. After she hugged him tightly around his neck, he placed her back on the floor, using a finger to wipe away a streak of chocolate from the side of her mouth.
“How do you ladies feel about pizza?”
Abigail looked at Hannah and then back at Enrique. “We feel pretty great about pizza. I’ll start the order.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped something in. “My treat.”
She started to argue, but he gave her a chastising glare, as if he wouldn’t accept an argument.
“We appreciate that. And next time will be on me.”
Enrique swept his gaze to Hope and Hannah, a teasing smile lurking behind the surface of his faux serious expression. “We all like worms on our pizza, right?”
Hannah burst into giggles and shook her head. Hope peered up at her father as if wondering whether to take him seriously or not.
“Spiders, then?”
“Nooooooo!” Hannah shrieked, laughter racking her tiny body.
“Okay, fine. Only frog feet. Got it.” He pretended to add that to the order.
“No, no, no! Only pepperoni!”
“Ahhh, pepperoni, you say. I knew there was something young girls liked on their pizza.”
Abigail clasped her hands together, impressed with his strategy. Hannah and Hope whispered to one another as if secretly assessing Enrique’s wellbeing.
When the pizza was delivered less than half an hour later, Abigail set up paper plates at the child-sized table in the play area of the shop. “Apologies for the tiny chairs. I don’t usually entertain here at the store.”
Enrique’s dimple teased her senses. He made a dramatic showing of placing himself into one of the tot-sized chairs, his knees practically reaching his chest as he sat with a broad smile. “Perfecto!”
Hope pushed her chair closer to her daddy and hugged his arm. He kissed the top of her head. Abigail nearly cried.
This was what a father’s love was supposed to look like.
That’s how she had been raised—with a loving, supportive father who would crawl around on the floor to play with her and who would allow her to play beauty shop with his hair.
A father stayed present in his child’s life. They didn’t carry on as if said child never existed. They didn’t blame the mother for the child’s conception and then refuse to consider parenting.
Abigail didn’t want to share parenting with a man who didn’t want her child, anyway. She wouldn’t share her child—not with a lying, cheating, narcissistic man. She’d never beg someone to see the beautiful flower blooming in this precious child.
She only worried how Hannah would feel growing up, especially once she was old enough to understand the rumors. Aware enough to learn that her father lived minutes away and yet had no contact with her.
Soon those concerns would be old news. She’d be moving on, both in distance and in brainpower.
“Mommy, can Hope and her daddy make gingerbread people with us tonight?”
Abigail withered a bit at the hopefulness in Hannah’s eyes. How could she explain in front of Enrique and Hope that their relationship was a professional one?
“Oh, lovebug, that’s such a great idea—”
“Gingerbread? We’ve never made gingerbread people before, have we, Hope?”
Abigail continued, her words stumbling over Enrique’s, “But I’m sure they’re going to be tired by the time we close up shop today.”
Hope’s head drooped at the rejection, and Abigail’s heart cracked under the pressure of such a forlorn expression. Should she offer to let the girl stay with them while her father got settled in? They had just arrived in town yesterday—surely he had things he needed to do. Or was that crossing a professional boundary?
She had no idea how to navigate these icy paths. Be friendly and offer and appear to be crossing a line, or take her chances being cold and not as welcoming?
She should have prepared Hannah ahead of time and told her not to invite people in front of them. That was definitely a talk they’d have later.
“Mommy, you said we made enough gingerbread cookies to feed the whole town. Please can they decorate with us?” Hannah put her hands together and used those puppy dog eyes to plead.
“I’d love them to join us. I just don’t know…” She took a deep breath and, since they were already this deep in the drifts, turned an inquiring eye to Enrique. He’d have to be the one to turn down the offer. “I completely understand if you have things you need to do tonight since you just got to town, but it’s true that we made a ton of cookies, and we’d love for you to join us in decorating them.”
Please say no.
She was having too hard a time not thinking of him in unprofessional ways. Watching him decorate cookies with his little girl in her dining room would surely be her undoing.
“We won’t be too tired at all, will we, mi cariño?”
Hope lifted her head again, and a tiny spark of joy illuminated her warm brown eyes, so much like her dad’s. Something burned in Abigail’s chest.
The little girl nodded slightly, shifting her eyes to look at Abigail and then shifting them back to the table and the half-eaten crusts that littered her paper plate.
“I think that means we graciously accept your offer.” Enrique’s smile could light up a movie screen and make an entire audience swoon. She should tell him he had picked the wrong career path.
What had she been about to say?
She swallowed hard, humiliation burning through her at the realization that he could probably read her mind. She had never been adept at hiding her thoughts or feelings. When she realized she had been staring, she bit her lip and stood up too fast, knocking her chair over in the process. Flustered, she reached down to set it right, but he reached for the chair at the same moment. Their hands made contact—just the fingertips—and if she thought she had been flustered already, she hadn’t understood the meaning of that word.
Something passed over his face. Had he felt the same thing she had felt? He had been the one to jerk away that time. Or had he realized she had this ridiculous attraction to a man she had only met hours ago?
She knew nothing about him, other than that he was a single dad raising his shy, fearful daughter and that he was buying her shop. She knew it was his first foray into business ownership, which is why he had requested that she stay on to allow him to shadow her until the New Year.
That was the total sum of her knowledge of him.
Oh yeah, and he was drop-dead gorgeous. His voice could soothe a rabid raccoon. His eyes could melt an iced-over pond.
And his soulful expression could stir things in her that were better left unstirred.
“Yay! You get to come to my house, Hope!”
Whatever Hannah said after that, Abigail didn’t hear.
She simply couldn’t move past the idea that this man would be in her house in a matter of hours.
Had she left the house clean? Or were the dishes still piled up? When had she last vacuumed?
And when had she last felt so tempted?
Thankfully they had the girls, so she wouldn’t do anything stupid. Not that he’d want to do something stupid with her, but if he asked nicely to be stupid, she’d be very, very stupid.
Gingerbread people. Frosting, sprinkles, and tiny candies.
That was all.
A fun event that her daughter, who appeared to be suffering from Abigail’s self-imposed isolation, would benefit from.
And hopefully Hope would, too.
Abigail needed to get through the rest of the day without her hands trembling every time he came within her orbit.
Working with him so closely might do her in before she could escape the town and start her new life.
The stakes were too high for her and for her daughter, and since she was all Hannah had, she had to keep her mind clear and her thoughts pure. No matter what temptation tried to pull her off track, she would stay focused on the goal.
Goal set, Abigail forced her mind to cooperate with one task of critical importance.
Banish all thoughts of frosting and Enrique’s smooth skin.