Page 17 of A Texas Christmas Carol

The pessimistic economist in him wanted to point out the flaws in her metaphor. No business could be run while only looking at gains and not considering losses. Such poor stewardship would doom a venture to failure. But she wasn’t talking about business. Nor was she referencing stewardship. She was talking about joy. A commodity he knew precious little about, and one he found himself admiring in his companion more with each passing moment.

“You’ve given me much to ponder, madam.”

Yet he wouldn’t be able to do so with her about. He needed to be alone. To think. To pray. To consider. All of his adult life, he’d striven for security and respect, and he’d found them in hard work and ruthless economy. What he hadn’t found was joy. Yet he feared reaching for joy might compromise the very things he’d fought so hard to obtain.

He scrambled to his feet, picking up her tablet and his cane in the process, then turned to her and held out a hand. “May I assist you, Miss Wiggins?”

She smiled and held her hand a few playful inches out of reach. “Only if you call me Felicity.”

Relieved she didn’t feel the need to press him for more on their previous topic before he was ready, he dipped his chin and played along. “By all means, Felicity.”

Something darkened in her eyes as he voiced her name. The same something wound through him like a gunpowder fuse that ignited the moment he captured her hand.

More than friendship was at play here. Much more. But would it lead to the joy she spoke of, or to a loss that would pain him the rest of his days? Much of the outcome relied on him, he knew. On his ability to become the man she needed. A dubious prospect.

Better, for now, to concentrate on his more proven capabilities.

Setting Timothy’s cane on the edge of his desk, Evan handed Felicity her writing tablet, then retrieved the toppled chair and set it aright. After gesturing to her with a nod to resume her seat, he retreated behind his desk.

“Now. I believe you mentioned an organizational matter you want my help with?”

For the next hour, he did his best to make sense of her haphazard notes and scattered recollections of the meeting she’d attended. Her mind definitely did not function in a linear manner. It acted more like a monkey in a tree, swinging from branch to branch, sometimes clasping a new branch, sometimes returning to one previously explored. It took a bit of mental maneuvering, but he eventually ascertained a method for asking questions that allowed them to scale the tree more efficiently. Such disorganization should annoy him to no end, but it wasn’t a lack of intelligence or focus that caused her recitations to zigzag so drastically. Quite the opposite. She focused so much energy and heart on each individual detail that when a thought popped into her head, she immediately gave it her full attention. She cared so much for the families on her list and wanted to perform her charitable duties well. He couldn’t help but respect her for it. And for once, perhaps his dispassionate businessman’s temperament could be an asset instead of a liability as he assisted. He might not know how to make people feel comfortable around him, but he could organize a schedule that would allow them to collect donations and make purchases in an orderly fashion.

Evan looked over the list he’d made and noticed one glaring oversight. “Is there a plan for the Christmas hams?”

Felicity bit her lip. “We don’t have the funds for hams this year, not if we want to fill the baskets with other necessities.” She blew out a breath. “We can do chickens. It’s not nearly as festive, but it’s considerably cheaper and—”

“Chicken for Christmas? I think not. There will be a ham in each basket. I’ll see to it.”

She shook her head. “No, Evan. I promised not to ask you for any money, and I’m a woman of my word.”

He raised a brow at her. “I’m not giving money, I’m giving hams. And I’ll hear no argument about it.” He made a note on the page in front of him. “I can simply increase my weekly order for the inns and have the surplus delivered here. Buying in bulk will reduce the cost, and I can order by the pound, so larger hams can go to the families with more mouths to feed and smaller hams can be distributed to the widows who have only themselves. Economical and efficient.”

She burst out of her chair and ran around the desk. Before he could do more than lay aside his pen and lurch to his feet, she flung her arms about his neck and squeezed. “Thank you, Evan. Thank you!”

He managed to remain stiff and unresponsive for an entire two heartbeats before he succumbed to her embrace and allowed his palms to fit against her back. And fit they did. Far too well. He drew her slightly closer, relishing the feel of her softness against his chest for one precious moment before she pulled away.

He released her at once, of course, but the feel of her lingered, stirring a yearning within him of uncomfortable magnitude. He wanted to hold her again. Longer this time. Closer. To press a kiss against her brow and stroke the smooth skin of her cheek. He wanted to see more than gratitude and friendship in her eyes. He ached to see love.

“Yes, well.” Evan cleared his throat. “I suppose we’d better see about the first item on our list, hadn’t we?” He stepped backward and retrieved the page from atop his desk, as if he didn’t recall what he’d written there not fifteen minutes before. “The mercantile, isn’t it?”

Felicity nodded. “Yes. Mrs. Talley set up a line of credit for us with the funds collected by the committee ladies. If we are careful, we should have enough to get all the personal items we’ve been discussing this week.” She scurried back to her chair, collected her writing tablet, and flipped to a page closer to the front. “I’ve made a list.” She angled the page toward him, then lifted it to show a second and third page. The list boasted dozens of names and gift ideas, many of the ideas scratched through, leaving one key item circled for each person. She’d obviously put a lot of care and thought into her selections.

“Excellent.” He folded his own tidy list and put it in his pocket. “Shall we go, then?” He glanced her way, hungry for one of her bright smiles.

She didn’t disappoint. A glittering smile beamed across her face, lightening his spirits even as it tightened something in the region of his heart.

He escorted her to the front door, then offered her his arm as they started their walk to town. An inordinate sense of pride filled him at having Felicity Wiggins on his arm. Beautiful, charming, a kind word for everyone she met. No finer woman existed.

Instead of skittering away from him as people generally did, with Felicity on his arm, some of the braver townsfolk actually drew nearer. Stopped to chat. Even spoke a handful of words to him.

“Evan Beazer!” A harsh voice speared through the friendly chatter. “You coldhearted snake. I oughta kill you!”

Skittering ensued. The pair of matrons speaking to Felicity gaped at the sight of Edward Darby marching toward them, pulling a gun from his holster.

Evan immediately stepped in front of Felicity to shield her. “Go into one of the shops,” he urged, but she refused to budge.

“I’m not leaving you.” Her hand settled against his shoulder.