Madelyn "Lyn" Creeke and her grandmother were the last of their family. At least, that's what Lyn's grandmother always led her to believe.
Lyn had never heard of or seen pictures of Georgina Creeke, a great aunt that had been living a few hours awa...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sadly, that warmth failed to keep the cold away once we stood in front of the tree.
"It's freezing out here," I grumbled, shoving my mitten clad hands beneath my armpits. I didn't, in fact, pack anything warmer than my sweater and coat, and the coat was meant to fit over a tailored suit, not a bulky knit. I worried any sudden movements might tear it at the seams, but Jordan warned me about leaving the house without it, especially considering I'd already refused to wear socks with my flats.
Once in town, he dragged me over to a kitschy gift store filled with locally made pieces, including several knitted items. After buying a pair of mittens, a hat, and a scarf, we made our way back to the town square where the caroler's guild stood before a dark tree.
"Maybe you should have packed more. Your toes are going to have frostbite by the end of the night." Jordan had his own gloved hands shoved into the deep pockets of his fleece-lined, soft suede jacket. He, however, left it unzipped and relied on several layers of shirts and a sweater to insulate his muscular frame. A colorful scarf of blues and greens, with a dash of burgundy, warmed his neck. He, however, neglected his head, leaving his ears bare and red against the frigid chill.
"I was supposed to be spending my weekend working inside, not traipsing about town."
"I wouldn't call what you're doing traipsing," he said with a chuckle. "You're far too stiff and compact to be traipsing."
I dug my face further into the folds of my scarf and glared at him from the thin slit formed between it and the brim of my hat. "I don't know why I'm here."
"Ooh, that's an interesting question, isn't it?" He rose up on his toes to look over the crowd as signs of activity stirred at the front. Then he rocked back on his heels and turned to me with a bright smile made merrier by the rosy tint the cold had whipped across his cheeks. "It depends on how you frame it. Are we talking about why you're here at the tree lighting or why you are here in Hereford Hills?"
"I'm here in Hereford Hills because you wouldn't relinquish the keys," I said with a light growl in my voice. "I meant why I'm out here. It's not like the guests need babysitting. I don't even know where they are, and I'm sure they're old enough to find their way back to the town shuttle bus."
"Well, only you can answer that question."
His voice dropped once the mayor approached the podium to recite a welcome speech. Jordan leaned in so I could hear him over the noise without disturbing our neighbors. His nose brushed a few strands of my hair as he brought his lips close to my ear. I hoped my bulky clothes could hide the shiver it sent through me, or that it appeared to be from the cold if he did notice.
"Perhaps," he offered, his tone settling into a husky timbre with the low volume of his voice, "you're out here because you want to be a good hostess and this is what a good hostess would do."
"Maybe." I kept my voice flat and my eyes upon the mayor as she introduced the caroler's guild.
"Or," he continued, his inflection teasing, "it's because you really didn't want to stay home alone working on something your heart really isn't in."
