Page 3 of A Perfect Christmas Dance (Kringle, Texas #7)

Outside on the sidewalk Ryan turned to look over his shoulder through the bakery’s plate-glass window decorated with Christmas-themed clings.

Behind the counter, Nina arranged a tray of Christmas cookies in the display case.

Her fingers moved with an unconscious grace, lifting each cookie and placing it just so.

She wore a Chilly Willy-themed apron over a simple blue sweater, the fabric lightly flour-dusted.

She looked happy, surrounded by the tools of her trade, and there was a peacefulness about her he envied.

Nina had the most gorgeous hair he’d ever seen. True midnight black that shimmered with hints of blue in the sunlight, and right now, under the soft glow of the bakery lights, it looked like she’d painted in red and green streaks as if the Christmas spirit had found its way into every strand.

Ryan had always noticed her hair and admired the way it usually fell in soft waves around her shoulders, even if today she had it piled into a loose bun atop her head. A few tendrils escaped, curling around her face, softening her features.

Captivated, he stared.

She leaned forward to place a few more cookies on the parchment-lined glass shelf, her shirt pulled tight across her back, revealing the gentle curve of her waist. Ryan recalled the way she’d smiled at him earlier, the kindness in her eyes, and something inside him ached.

It wasn’t just attraction, though that was definitely there, but something deeper, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

He thought of the sandwich she offered him and the charming warmth of her sweet little bakery.

She’d proposed food and company. Why had he turned her down?

Scott was right. He spent too much time on the ranch. Too much time alone. Ryan took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Nina looked up from the counter, surprise flashing across her pretty face. “Back so soon?”

“Yeah,” he said, feeling awkward. He swept off his Stetson and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“I, uh, thought I’d take you up on that sandwich if the offer still holds.

Turns out I’m hungrier than I thought, but I’m paying.

I insist. You can’t keep a business going giving food away for free. ”

She blinked, and those lovely pink lips curved into a welcoming smile, one that made his pulse spike. “I’m glad you changed your mind. C’mon in and have a seat.”

He took the table he’d sat down at before.

“You want the turkey and avocado on sourdough?” she asked.

“That sounds delicious.”

“Cup of butternut squash soup to go with it?” She pointed to the posted chalkboard menu on the wall over the counter. “Soup of the day.”

“Sure, sure, but I have one request.”

“What’s that?”

“You have lunch with me.” He glanced around the empty shop. “At least until the customers show up.”

“Deal,” she said, upping the wattage on her smile. “I did expect it to be slower today since there’s an event going on at the Kringle Kandy Kompany. I think they’ve got food trucks over there.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he said as she disappeared into the kitchen. “They’re introducing a new holiday candy.”

“Yep, even got a Fort Worth news crew showing up.”

“Fancy that,” he said.

She appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and storefront. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What’d you say?”

“Nothing important… hey, do you mind if I come hang out with you in the kitchen while you whip up the sandwiches? That is unless there’s some kind of health code violation.”

“No, come on in. Just wash up at the sink and stay away from my prep station. I’ve got a little table and chairs back here where we can sit.”

Ryan joined her in the kitchen, stepping to the huge stainless steel sink to wash his hands while Nina sliced the sourdough bread.

The kitchen was even cozier than the storefront, the air thick with the smell of yeast bread and cinnamon. Her sound system perched on the windowsill was playing the Christmas song, “Winter Wonderland.”

Nina assembled the sandwiches. Ryan kept his hands clasped behind his back and studied the photographs lining the walls that captured family moments over the years—three generations of Ellises loving and cherishing this place.

“C’mon over.” She carried two platters loaded with sandwiches, dill pickle spears, chips, and cups of butternut squash to the little wooden table set up in a little alcove between the commercial refrigerator and the ovens. “Water okay or would you like something else to drink?”

“Water is fine.”

She poured two glasses of ice water, and they settled into their chairs. Nina passed him a napkin from the dispenser on the table and took one for herself.

Ryan took a bite of his sandwich. “Mmm, this is delicious. Do you make your own aioli?”

“I do,” she said. “Buttermilk is my secret ingredient. I learned that from Gee.”

“Props for Gee.” Ryan lifted his thumb. Why didn’t he eat at the bakery more often? While the lunch menu was limited, it was spectacular, nonetheless. “How is your grandfather doing, by the way?”

“Great.” She nodded. “Completely cancer-free at his three year checkup. I can’t thank you enough for driving him to his chemo treatment.”

“I only did it the once.” Ryan shrugged. “I didn’t mind at all. Happy to help.”

“Well, we truly appreciated it, and the cookies I sent as a thank-you don’t seem near enough.”

“You didn’t have to send cookies, but I sure did enjoy them.” He patted his belly. “Just like I’m enjoying this soup and sandwich.”

She pulled her bottom lip up between her teeth, and her gaze held his. He smiled at her, hoping he didn’t make her nervous, because she was easy to talk to, easy to be around. On the sound system, “Winter Wonderland” changed into “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

“Gee would be here right now if he wasn’t playing in a dominoes tournament at the senior citizen center. He’s in the finals and hoping to win a trip to Padre Island.”

“I didn’t know he was a domino sharp.”

“Oh, yeah.” She laughed. “Mostly, though, he uses it as an opportunity to dispense free medical advice to his friends and competitors. Once a medicine man, always a medicine man, I guess. He’s still got that bedside manner.

People ask him for advice on everything from aches and pains to what kind of flour they should use for biscuits. ”

She was a talker. Ryan hadn’t realized that. Nina made him think of his sister, Jenny, in that regard. All those words tumbling out while he listened and delighted in every second of her conversation. Her talkativeness didn’t bother him at all. It gave him time to think. He didn’t want to mess up.

“Miles had big shoes to fill when he took over your grandfather’s practice.”

“He did,” Nina agreed, nodding. “But Doc Miles is doing great. He really cares about the community, just like Gee did.”

Ryan took another bite, the flavors of the sandwich bursting on his tongue. He licked a bit of aioli from his thumb and caught Nina watching him, her eyes lingering on his mouth. He froze for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve needed to see a doctor.”

“Guess all that healthy living is paying off, huh?” she said, looking him up and down in a way that gave him trouble swallowing the last bit of sandwich.

He finally got the bite down, and it hit his stomach hard, as he fought a bout of unexpected nerves. Why was he anxious?

Her words weren’t suggestive or a come-on. She was just a woman noticing a man. Paying attention. Maybe thinking about how hard he worked or the things he could do with his hands—rope a wild mustang, wrestle a steer to the ground, cradle a newborn calf.

Or his own baby?—

Whoa! Where had that thought come from? Ryan shook his head, feeling as if this kitchen and Nina’s food had cast a spell over him.

He had no plans to start a family.

Ever.

Jenny was enough, and she and Scott could populate Kringle with as many little Finleys as they wanted.

He figured he’d make a terrific uncle. He’d never seen himself as a husband or a dad material.

He and Jenny had the best parents ever, and Ryan learned what it meant to be a man from the father who’d raised him. The one he would miss forever.

Nina stared at him as if she expected him to say something and he realized he’d lost the thread of the conversation.

“Your good health,” she said. “Must be from ranching.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, that.” He dipped into the butternut squash soup garnished with crème fraiche. “Don’t have a lot of time for excesses. Unless too much work counts.”

“It can, for sure.” She rubbed her hands up and down her crossed arms. “When I was plotting a career, I never thought I’d be setting an alarm to get to work by three a.m. My teen self would be horrified. It was trying enough putting in a couple of hours at the bakery before school back then.”

Ryan nodded. “I hear ya. I got up early for football practice after chores, ready to go, and everyone else would be stumbling around the locker room like they’d just rolled out of bed.”

“They probably had,” she said.

He thought back to what Nina had said. “You still get up early on your days off?”

She laughed. “I do try to sleep in, but my body thinks I’m running late and shoves me out of bed by five, but at least it’s not three, which is ridiculously early.”

He was usually in the barn by five, but five wasn’t three, and Nina was right. That was a ridiculous hour. “I don’t remember the last time I was up past nine.”

“I generally go to bed at eight. The same time as my grandfather, which makes me feel old.” She laughed.

It was a fluttery sound. Light and fun like a butterfly. Ryan’s gut clenched. He wanted to hear it again.

“But at least I get to eat breakfast on the job,” she said. “Though I probably should cut back on the pastries. I’m a sucker for our blueberry cinnamon rolls. Have you tried them?”

Ryan found himself about to say something about how good she looked, that the pastry didn’t seem to be hurting her, but he shoved his mouth full of soup instead.

It didn’t keep him from thinking how nicely she would fit against him, however, and that simply wouldn’t do. He refused to objectify her in any way.

“I haven’t tried the blueberry cinnamon rolls, but you’ve just talked me into it. I’ll take half a dozen home with me.”

He pushed back his empty plate and soup bowl and stood to clear his place. From the musical playlist, George Strait started singing about Christmas cookies.

Nina cocked her head and peered up at him. “Ryan?”

He looked down at her beautiful heart-shaped face surrounded by tendrils of jet-black hair and a solid ache hit his chest. “Yeah?”

“Would you care to dance? This song is my absolute favorite Christmas tune.”