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“Really?” Dena asked. “I miss having a royal couple for the holidays.”

“What’s a Snow King and Queen?” Shaye asked.

“People are randomly, or not so randomly, chosen to be the honorary hosts of the holiday season here in town,” Paisley said. She sipped her drink. “They judge cookie contests, participate in Advent events. They used to be a married couple. Then it was whoever put their name in the hat. Oh, if there’s a Snow King and Queen, maybe they’ll start having the Holiday Ball again. That would be fun. Everything will be set up over the next few months so we’re ready to go with them next year.”

Reggie listened to her friends and her sister discuss the possibilities. Despite the fun of having a Snow King and Queen, she found her mind drifting back to Toby and the fact that he’d moved back to Wishing Tree. She was willing to admit she was a bit intrigued at the thought of seeing him again. Just out of curiosity, she mentally added. Yes, they’d been an item, and yes, he’d broken her heart, but so what? She’d moved on and gotten over him. She had absolutely zero interest in the man romantically. Zip. Nada. None.

Mostly she wanted to see how he’d changed from the teenager she’d been so desperately in love with. She’d been crazy about him for months back then. She’d thought he’d been interested in her, but he’d never bothered to ask her out. Finally, she’d decided the best way to get his attention was to challenge him. She’d been shocked and thrilled when the tactic had worked.

She’d figured out fairly quickly that Toby wasn’t the kind of guy who played games with other people’s emotions. He’d always been straightforward with her, saying what he meant, doing what he promised. Which made what he’d done after she’d given him her virginity so unforgiveable.

She returned her attention to the present. He was old news, she told herself. A curiosity—nothing more.

Chapter Six

Dena left Holiday Spirits a little after nine. She loved her sister and her friends, but hanging out with them while everyone but her was drinking wasn’t the thrill she had hoped it would be. She was tired and hungry. The cheese plate Howard had brought her had become a communal affair and had been devoured quickly. She wanted to go home and see if there were any mini pizzas left, then go to bed. Not exactly the Saturday night of her dreams, but she was okay with that.

She stepped outside and shivered in the cold. Thank goodness home was close. She hurried the short distance to the B and B, used her key to let herself in the back door, then flipped on the lights.

After tossing her jacket, gloves, hat and scarf over a chair, she studied the contents of the refrigerator, smiling when she saw the container of mini pizzas. There were plenty to make a meal. There was also a lovely, fresh salad with a note that said, For Dena, because Ursula was looking out for her.

Dena turned on the smaller of the two ovens. Yes, it would take longer for the pizzas to heat that way, but dough was never the same when warmed in the microwave.

She’d just started sorting through the mini pizzas, trying to decide how many she wanted versus how many she could reasonably eat and not be too stuffed to sleep, when a loud knock on the kitchen door made her jump.

She spun and saw the shape of a man standing outside. A second look told her the person in question was Micah. She crossed to the door and let him in.

“Hi,” he said, shivering in the cold, one hand clutching his coat closed, the other holding a guitar. “I saw the light go on and wondered if I could beg a few mini pizzas?”

“Of course,” she said automatically, stepping back to let him in, all the while trying not to notice how incredibly handsome he was. His dark hair gleamed in the overhead light, and his deep blue eyes were large and expressive. Or maybe it was his mouth—full and tempting, but still masculine.

“Dena?” he asked, his voice slightly concerned.

“Huh?”

Oh, crap! She’d been staring.

Humiliation rushed through her, making her turn away and struggle for control. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting like an idiot? All good questions she would try to answer later.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I was lost in thought. Mini pizzas. There are bunches. Come pick the ones you want and I’ll heat them in the oven. I also have salad, and we have beer and wine.”

She was going to say more, or possibly ask about the guitar, when a wave of nausea hit her out of nowhere. It was swift and powerful and there was no resisting it. She barely had time to make it to the kitchen sink where she threw up the glass of water she’d had an hour ago.

As soon as she’d vomited, her stomach returned to normal. The cold, clammy sensation receded, and except for the lingering embarrassment and the fact that she was standing at the sink, she could almost pretend nothing had happened. Almost.

She carefully rinsed out her mouth, washed her hands, then sucked in a breath as she wondered what on earth she was supposed to say to her guest.

Whatever small hope she had that he’d left faded when she turned and saw him standing in the same spot. The coat was gone, and the guitar was lying across a chair. His expression was quizzical, the drawn-together brows making him even better-looking.

“You all right?” he asked cautiously.

“I’m great.”

“Stomach flu?”

“Pregnancy.”

“You’re pregnant?”