Sugar Plum Season. Mia Ross

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СКАЧАТЬ his parents’ Christmas tree.

      Dangerous, he cautioned himself. It was okay to admire a woman in a general way, but when he started comparing her to heavenly beings, it was time to take a giant step back and get a grip. Then again, the adorable ballerina she’d once been had stayed in his memory for twenty years. Gazing down at her now, he saw none of the joy on display in the framed photos on the wall. In its place was a lingering sadness that tugged at his heart, making him want to come up with a way to make her smile like that again.

      And so, against his better judgment, he held out his hand. “I’m your guy, Amy. I promise not to let you down.”

      She looked at his hand warily, then said, “The last time a man said that to me, it didn’t end so well.”

      Laced with wry humor, her comment made him laugh. “He was a moron, and if I knew his name, I’d go tell him so.”

      She studied him for a long moment, then her somber expression lightened just a little. It was such a subtle change, he couldn’t help wondering if she’d actually forgotten how to smile. “You know, I believe you. I’m not sure why, but I do.”

      “About the talking-to or about not letting you down?”

      “Both.”

      Taking his hand, she sealed their deal with a shake that was surprisingly firm for someone so petite. Jason got the distinct impression that something important had just happened to him, but he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. One thing was certain: he wouldn’t be bored this Christmas.

      The thought had just floated through his head when the sound of jingling bells announced another visitor at the front door. When he glanced over, he had to look twice. From where he stood, it looked like a larger-than-life nutcracker in a flashy soldier’s uniform was bobbing through the large front room on its way toward the stage. When it got closer, he was relieved to see that underneath it were very human feet, clad in tie-dyed sneakers that were a dead giveaway about who’d come in.

      “Hey, you,” he greeted Jenna Reed, the town’s resident artist, with a chuckle. “Who’s your friend?”

      When she set it down, he noticed it was almost as tall as Amy. “The nutcracker prince, of course. He’s not as big as the signs I made for the sawmill, but he’s got a lot more personality.” Turning to Amy, she said, “I know he’s not up to the standards you’re used to in the Big Apple, but what do you think?”

      “It’s perfect for this show,” Amy replied with an approving smile. “And you shouldn’t sell yourself short. This guy is just what I had in mind.”

      “Awesome.” Jenna eyed Jason with curiosity. “No offense, JB, but I’m used to seeing you out at the mill. You look a little outta place in here.”

      “Finishing up Fred’s sets.”

      “I forgot he hurt himself tackling your nephew,” she said to Amy. “How’s he doing?”

      “Aunt Helen has all she can manage just keeping him off his feet,” Amy explained with a sigh. “The doctor said he needs to take it easy for at least a couple of weeks. It’s only been two days, and he’s already driving her crazy.”

      Jason knew how he’d feel if he was laid up for that long, and inspiration struck. “Maybe I can knock down some of the pieces for him to assemble and paint at home. That’ll give him something to do, and your aunt can keep her sanity.”

      Amy stared up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite peg, and he worried that he might’ve overstepped his bounds. Then she gave him a grateful smile, as if he’d come up with the answer to every problem she’d ever faced. Knowing he’d been the one to coax a smile from this troubled woman made him feel like a hero.

      “That’s brilliant,” she said, “but are you sure you want to do that? I mean, you’d be making more work for yourself.”

      He shrugged. “No big deal. If he’s happy, maybe he’ll heal up quicker and get back to the garage where he belongs.”

      “And out of Aunt Helen’s hair,” she added with a nod. “I like the way you think.”

      They were still staring at each other when Jenna interrupted with a not-so-subtle cough. When she had their attention, she shook her head. “Are you sure you guys just met?”

      “More or less,” Jason hedged, figuring Amy wouldn’t appreciate him relating their first-meet story from twenty years ago.

      “That’s funny, ’cause from where I’m standing, you’ve got that ‘known each other awhile’ vibe.”

      “That’s crazy,” Amy huffed. “Not to mention impossible.”

      The artist laughed. “I call ’em like I see ’em. Anyway, at least this time you stumbled across one of the good guys.”

      “I thought they went extinct years ago.” There was more than a hint of bitterness in Amy’s tone, and he couldn’t help wondering what had really happened with her ex. Not that it impacted him in any way, of course. He was just curious.

      “Not around here,” Jenna corrected her. “I think this is where they all landed.”

      “I’ll have to take your word on that one,” Amy retorted as she passed by on her way to somewhere behind the stage that dominated the studio. “I’ve got your check in the office. I’ll be right back.”

      Once she was out of earshot, Jenna stepped in closer to Jason. “I’ve gotten to know Amy since she landed here in town this summer, so I’m gonna do you a favor.”

      Every trace of humor had left her expression, and he returned the somber look. “What kinda favor?”

      “Leave the poor girl alone. You’re not interested in anything serious, and she’s had a really rough time the last couple years. She’s not up to any more heartache.”

      “The accident, you mean.”

      Jenna’s eyes widened in surprise. “She told you?”

      When he repeated the gist of his earlier conversation with Amy, Jenna slowly shook her head. “I knew her a month before she told me any of that stuff. How did you get her to open up so fast?”

      “It’s a knack,” he replied with a grin. “People like me.”

      “Uh-huh. Well, watch yourself, big guy. Amy’s been through a lot of twists and turns, and her head’s still spinning. The last thing she needs is more trouble.”

      “Trouble?” he echoed in mock surprise. “From me?”

      “Don’t get me started,” she grumbled, as Amy reappeared at the back of the stage with her check. Jenna took it and without even glancing at it shoved it into the back pocket of her paint-spattered overalls. “Well, kids, it’s been fun, but I left my kiln going. The thermostat’s busted, so if I don’t keep an eye on it, it’ll burn my whole studio down. Later.”

      After the door jingled shut behind her, Amy gave him a knowing feminine look. “She likes you.”

      “She likes everybody. When you’re a freelance artist, it’s СКАЧАТЬ