Page 3 of Sugar Plum Serenade

“Never,” she whispered.

There was that easy smile again. “That’s a real shame. Maybe one of these days I can change your mind.” Before she could say no again, he added, “Come by any time, neighbor.”

The door closed, and Olive was left alone with a four-foot artificial tree with tiny white lights and gold ornaments. She studied it for a moment. The tree was pretty, with the lights and the sparkling gold. She hadn’t had a tree of her own for years. Not since the accident.

“Think of it as an artificial houseplant,” she said aloud, talking to herself as Colt Hart did. It didn’t matter. No one was here to see or hear. “With a little extra light, since it gets dark so early this time of year.”

Olive turned her back on the tree and slipped off her jacket as she walked toward the kitchen. She only had one other thing to say to herself.

“Bah, humbug.”

On a Monday nightThe Magnolia wasn’t packed to the rafters, but a nice mix of locals and tourists made for a decent crowd. Tuck left his full-time bartender, Ginny, in charge and his old faithful cook, Terrence, in the kitchen, doing his thing and doing it well. No one could say The Magnolia had an extensive menu, and anyone looking for a healthy meal would be sorely disappointed, but the burgers, fries, and a couple of specialty sandwiches sold well.

When the band started playing, Tuck closed himself in his office and listened. The sounds were muted, but he could hear well enough as he took care of some boring but necessary paperwork. The local band was good, they entertained the customers, but they needed a new lead singer.

Not that he’d tell them so.

While he took care of work that had become almost mindless, he thought about Olive Carson. Damn, she was pretty. Sleek dark hair; chocolate brown eyes; killer body. Gorgeous or not, something was off. Who was frightened of a little Christmas tree? He supposed it was the idea that someone had been in her house that spooked her, not the actual tree, but she had skirted around the thing like it was a coiled snake.

Maybe she disliked the holidays as much as he did.

He had good memories of Christmases as a child, but after his mother’s death there hadn’t been another good one. His dad’s younger brother, Houston, had taken care of him, that was true enough. He hadn’t thrown his thirteen-year-old nephew out to fend for himself. During those years Christmas Eve had been spent here, in The Magnolia, with lonely drunks and sad music on the jukebox for company. Merry Christmas, indeed.

Dwelling on the past was a waste of time. He’d rather think about his new neighbor than maudlin memories. He’d met her a time or two before, it wasn’t like she was entirely new, but on previous occasions they’d been in a crowd, at some kind of gathering at Mike Woodward’s house. Of course he’d noticed that Mike’s sister-in-law was pretty, but something about seeing her earlier today, going to her rescue even though she hadn’t needed rescue from a Christmas tree, struck him in a different way. Otherwise she wouldn’t be on his mind even now. He wouldn’t be sitting here thinking about her, bothered that she didn’t dance. Why not?

He shook off the questions. It sure as hell wasn’t any of his business.

Ginny knocked on the door and then opened it without waiting for a response. “I gotta run. My kid threw up all over the sitter, and she’s having a come apart. You good to cover the bar for a bit?”

“Sure.” They’d be closing in a couple hours, and there were times he actually liked the bartending part of the job. Working behind the bar was rarely boring, though it did get old after a while. As Olive had said… people.

As he approached the bar the band started a new song, one that had been requested by a drunk who sat at a table near the foot of the stage. “Merry Christmas, Baby.”

Tuck smiled, but under his breath he muttered, “Bah, humbug.”