Page 8 of A Perfect Christmas Dance (Kringle, Texas #7)

Ryan halted at the threshold of the church, his mother’s recipe of Heavenly Honey Buns clutched in his hands. They turned out delicious. The best ever.

Swallowing hard, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The fragrance of incense and beeswax candles washed over him, intertwined with the muted strains of “Silent Night” drifting in from the fellowship hall.

A memory floated through him—his mother directing the children’s choir, his father helping to set up the nativity scene.

He blinked hard, willing away the sting in his eyes.

The fellowship hall bustled with activity.

Folding chairs scraped against the worn linoleum as volunteers arranged them for the potluck.

Cardboard boxes overflowed with tinsel and ornaments, their contents spilling onto tables and chairs.

In the auditorium, near the stage, a tall Fraser fir stood sentinel, its branches bare and waiting.

Ryan’s gaze swept the room, cataloging the changes over the years from when his parents were alive. New curtains framed the windows, their deep blue a stark contrast to the faded yellow. The walls bore a fresh coat of paint, hiding the scuff marks and fingerprints of years past.

But beneath the surface updates, the bones of the place remained unchanged. The identical wooden beams crossed the ceiling. The same stained-glass windows filtered the late afternoon sunlight into pools of color on the floor.

He took a steadying breath, his fingers clutching the pan of honey buns. The familiar ache in his chest—a constant companion since his parents’ passing—intensified. He was here to help, to fulfill a promise to Mrs. Claiborne. Nothing more. Get in, do the work, get out. Simple.

But as his eyes adjusted to the glow of the hall, movement near the stage caught his attention. Dark hair, gleaming under the lights. A laugh, bright and clear, cut through the din.

Nina.

Ryan’s pulse quickened, a staccato rhythm against his rib cage.

She stood with her grandfather, Dr. Ellis, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. Even from across the room, he absorbed her energy. She fit here, among the tinsel and poinsettias, as if she’d stepped out of one of Ryan’s memories and into the present.

He hadn’t expected her to be here. Hadn’t prepared himself for how seeing her affected him. Their dance in her bakery’s kitchen was still fresh in his mind—the feel of her hand in his, the scent of vanilla clinging to her hair, the way the world had narrowed to just the two of them.

For a heartbeat, Ryan considered retreat. He could slip away unnoticed. Make up some excuse about the ranch needing his attention, but even as the thought formed, he dismissed it. Mrs. Claiborne was counting on him and running from his feelings—well, he’d done enough of that over the years.

He moved forward and the floorboards creaked beneath his boots.

He headed to the kitchenette, where people settled the dishes they’d brought onto the long communal table and he set his honey buns down at the dessert section with pies, cakes, and cookies.

He murmured greetings to people and engaged in chitchat, but even when he wasn’t looking at her, Ryan was acutely aware of Nina.

His legs seemed to have a mind of their own, drawing him from the dining hall and into the auditorium.

Nina turned. Her gaze swept past him, then snapped back, recognition dawning, her eyes widening in surprise.

Ryan nodded in greeting, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. He was aware of every step, every breath. The memory of their dance hovered between them, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

“Ryan!” Mrs. Claiborne’s voice cut through his thoughts. She bustled toward him, arms laden with garlands that shed tinsel with each step. “You made it! We’ve got quite the to-do list, and I’m tickled you’re here to help.”

He pulled a palm down his mouth. “Happy to pitch in. What needs doing?”

Mrs. Claiborne’s eyes twinkled, a knowing look that made Ryan want to squirm. “Well, now that you mention it—” She gestured at a large figure propped against the far wall. “We’ve got ourselves quite the celestial being this year. Think you can lend a hand getting her airborne?”

The angel was enormous, easily five feet tall, with a wingspan that threatened to overtake half the stage. The angel’s face tilted slightly downward and wore an expression of serene benevolence that seemed at odds with its imposing size.

“Where do you need her hung?” he asked.

Mrs. Claiborne pointed to two chains hanging from the ceiling just above the stage. Tricky sure, but manageable.

“Sure,” Ryan said. “I can manage that.”

Mrs. Claiborne beamed. “Wonderful! Nina will be your partner in this heavenly endeavor. It’s a two-person job, that’s for certain.”

Of course it was.

Ryan flicked a look at Nina, who met his gaze with an unreadable expression. Her lips quirked in a tentative smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and his heart backflipped.

“Right,” he said, rubbing the taut muscles at his nape. “Let’s get to it, then.”

“How do you want to handle this?” Nina tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and shot him a sidelong glance.

Ryan eyed the angel. “Let’s see how much she weighs.”

Nina circled the angle. “She’s papier-maché, so not too heavy, I’m guessing. Just an awkward shape. Mrs. Claiborne said the angel is new this year, donated by Chloe and Evan Connor. Apparently, Mrs. C didn’t realize how big it was until it arrived.”

Ryan ran a hand along the angel’s base, feeling for any handholds. The surface was smooth, except for the small rings on either end that would attach to the chains, offering little in the way of grip. “How did they even get it in here?”

“Two deacons and a dolly,” Nina gave a wry smile. “Which we don’t have the luxury of right now.”

They stood for a moment, considering the logistical challenge before them. The ladder waited several yards away, and between it and the angel stood a maze of chairs, boxes, and bustling volunteers.

Ryan squatted down, examining the angel’s base. “Okay, I think if I take the bottom and you guide the top, we should make short work of this.”

Nina positioned herself at the angel’s head, her hands hovering uncertainly over the angel’s wings and shoulders. “Ready when you are.”

With a grunt, Ryan heaved upward, lifting the base of the angel. The weight was more substantial than he’d anticipated for papier-maché, and he put extra muscle into it.

“Got it?” Nina asked as she steadied the upper portion.

Ryan adjusted his grip and nodded. The angel swayed precariously between them, its wings brushing against nearby decorations. “Alright, let’s move.”

They began their slow procession across the fellowship hall, the angel swaying between them. Ryan walked backward, relying on Nina’s guidance to navigate the obstacle course of holiday preparations.

“Left a bit,” Nina said. “Watch out for the box of ornaments behind you.”

Ryan sidestepped, feeling the burning in his arms intensify. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air of the church but he refused to waver.

They were halfway to the ladder when the angel’s wing caught on a string of lights draped over a nearby table. The sudden resistance caused Ryan to stumble and nearly lose his grip.

“Whoa!” Nina leaned forward to steady the angel and her sudden movement brought her face inches from Ryan’s, their noses almost touching over the angel’s shoulder.

For a heartbeat, they froze, eyes locked.

Ryan saw flecks of gold in Nina’s brown irises and felt her heated breath on his cheek. The weight of the angel seemed to disappear, replaced by the overwhelming awareness of Nina.

A crash from across the room broke the moment. They startled, nearly dropping the angel.

“Everything okay over there?” Mrs. Claiborne called from somewhere behind them.

“Fine!” Nina said, her voice higher than usual. “Just a minor detour.”

Another few yards zigzagging around impediments and they finally reached the ladder. The hard part was yet to come, but at least now Ryan had something to focus on besides the way Nina electrified the air around him.

“Okay,” he said, setting his end of the angel down. “How do we get this thing up there?”

Nina bit her lip, considering the challenge. “I think I’ll have to go up first, and you’ll boost her up to me. Unless you want to try lifting Miss Angel over your head?”

Ryan glanced at the ladder, then back at the ornament, mentally calculating angles and weight distribution. “No, you’re right. It’ll have to be a handoff. But Nina…” He met her eyes. “Be careful up there. This thing’s unwieldy, and I don’t want you falling.”

A soft smile played at the corners of Nina’s mouth. “Don’t worry. I’m tougher than I look. Besides,” she added, a hint of teasing in her voice, “I know you’ll catch me if I fall.”

“I’ll do my best to keep us both grounded.” Ryan aimed for levity, but his voice came out deep and a little shaky. His gaze dropped to her lips before he could stop himself, remembering how close they’d been during their dance.

He held the angel steady while she scampered up the ladder with ease, her movements fluid and assured.

It struck Ryan how at home she seemed—not just in the church, but in her own skin. He admired her grace and poise. How was it he hadn’t noticed her before? Had he really been that entrenched in grief?

Nina reached the top rung. “Okay, pass her up.”

Ryan tilted back his head and eyed her. “You sure you can handle it?”

She made “gimme” motions.

Reluctantly, he grasped the base of the angel and lifted it up, waiting until she had a solid grasp on the angel’s head before he raised it higher.

Her balance wavered.

Alarm dashed through him. “You okay?”

“I’m good. Keep ’er coming.”

Every muscle in his body coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of trouble. He widened his stance and pushed a bit more of the angel upward toward her. Dang it, he should be on the ladder, not her.

“Almost… there,” Nina murmured and pulled the unwieldy angel high enough for him to rest the angel’s base on the step below her.

“You got it?” he asked, reluctant to let go.

“Uh-huh.”

Two eyebolts with chains and latchets dangled down from the ceiling, awaiting the regal heavenly presence.

Nina tucked the angel’s head under her arm and stretched forward toward the high ceiling, reaching for the first hook. The movement caused her sweater to ride up, exposing a sliver of skin above the waistband of her jeans.

Ryan’s mouth went dry. He had a wild urge to press his lips in that sweet spot. Stop it, Danvers. Don’t get distracted.

“Careful,” he said.

“I’ve got it.” She secured the hook at the angel’s crown to the first chain latch. “I just need to— ayeee !”

Her foot slipped.

One moment, Nina stood perched atop the ladder, the next, she was falling, the angel swinging by her head, body free-floating through the air.

Time slowed.

Ryan saw every detail with crystal clarity—the widening of Nina’s eyes, the way her hair fanned out around her face, the gasp that escaped her glossy pink lips.

“Nina!” Ryan lunged forward, arms outstretched.

Nina collided with his chest, and he folded his arms around her even as the impact knocked the wind from his lungs and sent him stumbling backward. He dug in his heels to keep from toppling over.

But gravity won.

Ryan tumbled onto his butt, taking Nina with him.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just the two of them.

Nina’s face inches from his, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts.

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

He could feel the fast thud of her heart against his chest, matching the frantic pace of his own.

The scent of her surrounded him—vanilla and cinnamon and something uniquely Nina. It transported him back to her bakery, to the moment when the lines between friendship and something more started to blur.

“Ryan?” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice coming out far softer than he intended. “Are you?”

He was acutely aware of every point of contact between them—her hands on his shoulders, his arms around her waist, the press of her body against his.

Nina nodded, but her gaze remained fixed on his, wide and startled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

“Good.” He knew he should let go, get up, and make sure she was steady on her feet, but his arms seemed to have a mind of their own, holding her close. His fingers splayed against the small of her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the material of her sweater.

Nina’s breath hitched.

A slight sound that sent a shiver down Ryan’s spine. Her gaze dropped to his lips for a fraction of a second before darting back up to meet his eyes. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, with possibilities neither of them dared voice.

If a roomful of volunteers hadn’t rushed over, Ryan had no idea what might have happened. He might have kissed her, or she might have kissed him, or they might have equally consumed each other.

But instead, people pulled them to their feet, clucking and cooing over their mishap. Nina stepped back, pushing her hair from her face. Her cheeks flushed a rosy hue that spread down her neck and disappeared beneath the collar of her sweater.

“Thank you again,” she said. “For catching me.”

Ryan let his arms flop to his sides, immediately missing her. “Anytime, though maybe we should look into some non-falling-related activities.”

A small laugh escaped Nina, genuine despite its shakiness. “Probably a good idea. I’m not sure my heart can take much more excitement.”

Mrs. Claiborne hustled over. “Oh my stars! Nina, dear, are you all right? That was quite the tumble!”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Claiborne. Ryan’s quick reflexes saved the day… and me.”

Mrs. Claiborne’s gaze flicked between Nina and Ryan with a shrewd expression that made him want to fidget. “Well, thank goodness for that.” She patted Ryan’s shoulder. “You’ve always been a quick one, haven’t you? Always there when someone needs a helping hand.”

Ryan shifted, hyperaware of Nina beside him. “Just happened to be in the right place. Now, I better get that angel secured before she falls on someone.”

Turning, he scaled the ladder and attached the angel’s back half to the second chain latch and when he glanced down, he saw Mrs. Claiborne escorting Nina to the kitchen.

And Nina was looking back at him.