The Doctor's Christmas Wish. Renee Ryan

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      “It’s what I can do for you.” He laughed at his own joke. “During our previous conversation you hinted that your committee was short on staff.”

      “Well, yes, we could use at least one more member.”

      Two would be better, but with the parade only three weeks away, Keely didn’t hold out much hope for finding volunteers at this late date. Hardy, proving why he’d won the mayoral election in a landslide, offered up a solution to her dilemma.

      “I have an updated list of potential volunteers. I’m shooting an email with the names to you...” She heard the click of computer keys. “Now. Once you’ve reviewed the list, let me know who you’d like to fill the open position.”

      He spoke as if it was as simple as picking a name off the list and putting the person in place. “I’ll take a look and get back to you in the morning.”

      “Good enough.” Hardy ended the call.

      Keely opened the email app on her smartphone and absently thumbed through the potential candidates for the hole in her committee. She’d barely begun when a familiar name popped out at her. She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

      She moved on. Backed up. Stopped. Considered. Not him, Keely.

      No, she decided, definitely not him.

      She scrolled to the end of the list. Then looked again, drawn once more to the third name from the top.

      The sound of purposeful footsteps had her jumping in surprise. She bobbled the phone from one hand to the other, then lost her grip entirely.

      With catlike reflexes, Ethan reached out and caught the phone before it hit the floor. He started to hand it over but then glanced at the screen and froze.

      “What is my name doing in an email from—” he scrolled to the top of the page “—our illustrious mayor?”

      “Apparently, Hardy is under the impression that you’re interested in getting involved in the community.”

      “Well, yeah, I sent him an email just this morning asking him to plug me in somewhere.” Confusion dug across his forehead. “But why is he forwarding my name, and these others, to you?”

      “Because I happen to have the perfect volunteer opportunity for your particular skill set.”

      He shot her a wary glance. “What sort of opportunity?”

      “Village Green’s annual Christmas parade needs you.”

      Silence met her words.

      “The committee is short at least two members.”

      More silence.

      Keely searched his face, but the man was good at hiding his emotions when he wanted to be. At least he hadn’t said no. Yet. She gave him her sweetest smile. “Don’t you want to give back to your community? Wasn’t that the point of your email to Hardy?”

      “How much time are we talking about?”

      “Just over three weeks.”

      “Uh-huh.” His gaze neutral, he passed the phone back to her. “What would I be doing on this committee, precisely?”

      “That would be up to the parade coordinator to decide.”

      “Who’s the coordinator?”

      She beamed at him. “Me.”

      His eyes widened. “So I’d be putting my life in your hands for the next three weeks?”

      “A bit of an exaggeration but yes, in a manner of speaking that’s precisely what you’d be doing.”

      He leveled her with a dark look, no doubt meant to intimidate her. The gesture had the opposite effect.

      Keely would probably wonder over her nerve for years to come, but in that moment, she couldn’t help herself. She moved in close, lifted herself onto her toes and pressed her lips to his ear. “Afraid?”

      “Not even a little,” he clipped out, sounding as though he was forcing the word past jagged glass.

      She’d clearly hit a nerve, which had been her goal. Gloating would be in poor taste. So she stepped back and, deciding to soften her approach, explained that much of the work was already done. “We’re just finalizing details at this point.”

      He appeared to consider her request. That was when Keely knew she had him.

      This is crazy, she told herself. She needed to spend less time with Ethan, not more. It wasn’t too late to let him off the hook, to let them both off the hook.

      Instead she found herself nudging him along. “So, I can count on you?”

      He nodded.

      Giving him no time to change his mind, she shot out her hand. “Welcome aboard, Dr. Scott. Our first meeting is Wednesday night, seven o’clock sharp.”

      * * *

      The following afternoon, Ethan took a break between patients and escaped into his office with the idea of reducing the never-ending stack of unanswered phone messages.

      He’d barely read through the first one when his mind wandered back to a single moment from last night. In Keely’s kitchen, when she’d asked him to stay for dinner. He hadn’t planned on accepting. He still wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to stick around.

      One moment he was introducing Baloo to Flicka. The next, he’d been transported to another time, another home, another life. Every instinct had urged him to grab his dog and bolt, before the memories became unbearable.

      And yet he’d accepted her invitation.

      Things had gone downhill from there.

      Now he was committed to working on the town’s annual Christmas parade, in a position that would require him to take orders from Keely. Part of him couldn’t imagine a worst-case scenario. Another part actually looked forward to watching the woman in action. Something about Keely intrigued him.

      She ran her restaurant with efficiency and poise. Whenever a problem arose, she simply dug in and did what was needed. He was becoming more comfortable around her, thinking of her in familiar terms. Not quite friends, nothing so simple.

      Then there was Flicka. She was a sweet kid, yet full of a silent, underlying despair that made him want to erase her pain.

      A portion of the ice around his heart chipped away, leaving him feeling raw and vulnerable, missing the family that had been ripped away from him.

      He spun his chair around and took in the view of his hometown. Village Green was all dressed up for the holidays, a virtual winter wonderland straight off the front of a Christmas card. Along shoveled walkways, storefronts were decorated with garland and twinkling lights.

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