Christmas Wishes: Christmas Letters / Rainy Day Kisses. Debbie Macomber

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      K.O. laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. “And here I thought you were being so gallant.”

      He grinned boyishly and slid his arm around her shoulders.

      Never having attended a Figgy Pudding event before, K.O. didn’t know what to expect. To her delight, it was enchanting, as various groups competed, singing Christmas carols, to raise funds for the Senior Center and Food Bank. Vickie and her office mates took second place, and K.O. cheered loudly. Wynn shocked her by placing two fingers in his mouth and letting loose with a whistle that threatened to shatter glass. It seemed so unlike him.

      Somehow Vickie found her when the singing was over. “I wondered if you were going to show,” she said, shouting to be heard above the noise of the merry-go-round and the crowd. Musicians gathered on street corners, horns honked and the sights and sounds of Christmas were everywhere. Although the comment was directed at K.O., Vickie’s attention was unmistakably on Wynn.

      “Vickie, this is Wynn Jeffries.”

      Her friend’s gaze shot back to K.O. “Wynn Jeffries? Not the Wynn Jeffries?”

      “One and the same,” K.O. said, speaking out of the corner of her mouth.

      “You’ve got to be joking.” Vickie’s mouth fell open as she stared at Wynn.

      For the last two months, K.O. had been talking her friend’s ear off about the man and his book and how he was ruining her sister’s life. She’d even told Vickie about the incident at the bookstore, although she certainly hadn’t confided in anyone else; she wasn’t exactly proud of being kicked out for unruly behavior. Thinking it might be best to change the subject, K.O. asked, “Is John here?”

      “John?”

      “Your husband,” K.O. reminded her. She hadn’t seen Wynn wearing glasses before, but she hoped his comment about forgetting them was sincere, otherwise he might notice the close scrutiny Vickie was giving him.

      “Oh, John,” her friend said, recovering quickly. “No, he’s meeting me later for dinner.” Then, as if inspiration had struck, she asked, “Would you two like to join us? John got a reservation at a new Chinese restaurant that’s supposed to have great food.”

      K.O. looked at Wynn, who nodded. “Sure,” she answered, speaking for both of them. “What time?”

      “Nine. I was going to do some shopping and meet him there.”

      They made arrangements to meet later and Vickie went into the mall to finish her Christmas shopping.

      “I’m starving now,” K.O. said when her stomach growled. Although she had her toothbrush, there really wasn’t a convenient place to foam up. “After last night, I didn’t think I’d ever want to eat again.” She considered mentioning the two pounds she’d gained, but thought better of it. Wynn might not want to see her again if he found out how easily she packed on weight. Well, she didn’t really believe that of him, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Which proved that, despite everything, she was interested. In fact, she’d made the decision to continue with this relationship, see where their attraction might lead, almost without being aware of it.

      “How about some roasted chestnuts?” he asked. A vendor was selling them on the street corner next to a musician who strummed a guitar and played a harmonica at the same time. His case was open on the sidewalk for anyone who cared to donate. She tossed in a dollar and hoped he used whatever money he collected to pay for music lessons.

      “I’ve never had a roasted chestnut,” K.O. told him.

      “Me, neither,” Wynn confessed. “This seems to be the season for it, though.”

      While Wynn waited in line for the chestnuts, K.O. became fascinated with the merry-go-round. “Will you go on it with me?” she asked him.

      Wynn hesitated. “I’ve never been on a merry-go-round.”

      K.O. was surprised. “Then you have to,” she insisted. “You’ve missed a formative experience.” Taking his hand, she pulled him out of the line. She purchased the tickets herself and refused to listen to his excuses. He rattled off a dozen—he was too old, too big, too clumsy and so on. K.O. rejected every one.

      “It’s going to be fun,” she said.

      “I thought you were starving.”

      “I was, but I’m not now. Come on, be a good sport. Women find men who ride horses extremely attractive.”

      Wynn stopped arguing long enough to raise an eyebrow. “My guess is that the horse is generally not made of painted wood.”

      “Generally,” she agreed, “but you never know.”

      The merry-go-round came to a halt and emptied out on the opposite side. They passed their tickets to the attendant and, leading Wynn by the hand, K.O. ushered him over to a pair of white horses that stood side by side. She set her foot in the stirrup and climbed into the molded saddle. Wynn stood next to his horse looking uncertain.

      “Mount up, partner,” she said.

      “I feel more than a little ridiculous, Katherine.”

      “Oh, don’t be silly. Men ride these all the time. See? There’s another guy.”

      Granted, he was sitting on a gaudy elephant, holding a toddler, but she didn’t dwell on that.

      Sighing, Wynn climbed reluctantly onto the horse, his legs so long they nearly touched the floor. “Put your feet in the stirrups,” she coaxed.

      He did, and his knees were up to his ears.

      K.O. couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing.

      Wynn began to climb off, but she stopped him by leaning over and kissing him. She nearly slid off the saddle in the process and would have if Wynn hadn’t caught her about the waist.

      Soon the carousel music started, and the horses moved up and down. K.O. thrust out her legs and laughed, thoroughly enjoying herself. “Are you having fun yet?” she asked Wynn.

      “I’m ecstatic,” he said dryly.

      “Oh, come on, Wynn, relax. Have some fun.”

      Suddenly he leaned forward, as if he were riding for the Pony Express. He let out a cry that sounded like sheer joy.

      “That was fun,” Wynn told her, climbing down when the carousel stopped. He put his hands on her waist and she felt the heat of his touch in every part of her body.

      “You liked it?”

      “Do you want to go again?” he asked.

      The line was much longer now. “I don’t think so.”

      “I’ve always wanted to do that. I felt like a child all over again,” he said enthusiastically.

      “A Free Child?” she asked in a mischievous voice.

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