If I thought Dylan looked shocked before, he now looks like he’s seen a ghost.
Welcome to my world. That’s all I’ve been seeing lately. Your dearly departed wife. She apparently has a sick sense of humor.
“I believe that when you’re on the right path, the universe sends you signs. Guideposts. Well, it so happens I met up with a woman in Eugene, but she wasn’t born there. She was born here. Her name was Old Mother Jane.”
A murmur of recognition rushes through the crowd, and I catch glints of their whispers.
“I thought she was dead.”
“I always wondered about her. They said she was magic.”
The chairwoman calls for order, redirecting the attention to me.
“Old Mother Jane is alive and well. She also makes a mean bathtub gin.”
For the first time, Dylan’s face breaks into a smile and I’m reminded once again how achingly gorgeous he is. Gorgeous and out of my grasp.
Focus, Poppy. You have a mission.
“Anyway, Old Mother Jane was both shocked and excited when I talked about moving here. She said it was the most beautiful place in the world. A town so tiny that it barely makes a mark on the map, but it makes a mark on your soul. Then she told me the history. It was founded by a group of pagans, searching for peace from a world that often didn’t make sense.”
The buzzing has increased to a roar. I’m not sure which is worse—that I’m not a stripper or that I am a pagan.
Best to push through and get on with it before they finish setting up the stocks in the town square.
“The holiday season is almost here, and Yule is such a beautiful celebration. I thought since the town was founded on pagan principles, that it would be fun to experience a true Yule in Yuletide Acres.”
“Ms. Mills, you’ve been given misinformation. Old Mother Jane was pulling your leg. Fundamentalists founded this town over two hundred years ago,” the sweet councilman replies as he removes his glasses, polishing them with his sleeve.
“Old Mother Jane speaks the truth,” comes a voice from behind me, and I turn to see Estelle West standing to address the crowd. “The history of this town is well-hidden beneath a lacquer of puritan ideals. Ms. Mills is correct. It was founded by pagans. I know, because Dylan’s great-grandmother was one of the founders and I have all her papers, along with the original deeds and documents from the first years of Yuletide Acres. It appears that Ms. Mills crossed paths with Dylan’s long-estranged great aunt. She lives in Eugene. Sometimes, this world is very small indeed.”
“I thought she was dead,” Dylan retorts, his jaw slack with surprise.
“She’s very much alive, dear.”
Now the entire council looks fit to be tied. Talk about unloading a boatload of information. The chairwoman leans forward, clicking her teeth with her tongue. “Be that as it may, we will need additional details, Ms. Mills, before we can approve any sort of pagan celebration.”
“Not a problem, councilwoman. I have the documents here, what I plan festivity wise. It meshes so well with the Christmas traditions, since so many are borrowed from one another. I can leave this paperwork with you, for your perusal.”
The councilwoman nods, and I scurry to the podium, handing over the plans. “Do you have anything more to add, Ms. Mills?”
“No, but I thank the fine people of Yuletide Acres for granting me this time. I look forward to knowing you all.”
“Very well, Ms. Mills. I believe that’s it for the evening. Meeting is adjourned.”
I’m all smiles as I weave through the crowd, pulling Estelle into a hug. “Thank you. I never would have survived without you here.”
“You’d have been fine, dear. I do believe there’s a convert in your corner, now.” She motions over my shoulder and I turn to see Dylan standing there, hands shoved in his jean pockets. “I’m sure you two are famished. Dylan, why don’t you take Poppy out for some dinner? Maybe a celebratory drink. Remind her that you still have a few redeeming qualities.”
God, I love his mother. I chuckle, smirking in Dylan’s direction. “A few? That might be pushing it.”
Dylan nods, even managing a small smile of agreement. “It might take some doing to convince Poppy that I have any good qualities at this point.” He holds out his hand in my direction. “But, I’d love the opportunity to redeem myself. That is, if you’re interested.”
I am interested. Very interested. But I also can’t handle being tossed about again. His vacillating disposition toward me is giving me whiplash.
“Sorry to break it to you, Mayor, but I made dinner reservations for Poppy and me tonight.”
I turn to see Troy standing there, offering me his arm. I also note Dylan’s jaw clenching as he stares at the comely sheriff.
“You did?” I retort. This is news to me, too.
“I figured you’d been under a lot of stress, what with the move and all the upheaval. Let’s not forget your few rounds with the mayor. I thought a nice steak dinner might be just what the doctor ordered.”
“She’s a vegetarian,” Dylan interjects, crossing his arms over his chest.
Troy’s eyes bulge from his head. “You are? In Montana? Huh, that’s a new one.”
I giggle at the absurdity of the situation. Truly, this was not how I expected this evening to turn out. “I eat chicken.”
“You do?” the men question. In stereo, no less.
“Yes, but I prefer vegetarian meals. You are so kind to think of me, Troy.”
“Come on, let’s go. I have a glass of whiskey with your name on it.”
Decisions, decisions. I’d much rather spend time with Dylan, but the man was cornered into taking me out. His mother set up the date, and I can’t be sure if he was on board or simply being polite. That, and he’s been a raging jerk to me, whereas Troy has been nothing but gentlemanly.
A gentleman who’s likely making a play to become the third person I’ve slept with in ten years. I should have rethought that statement before I aired my sexual history.
Still, my heart is safe with Troy, and I doubt he’ll try anything untoward.
But I don’t have to choose, as Dylan makes my decision for me. “Since you two have plans, I’ll see myself home. Have a good night, sheriff. Ms. Mills.”
And just like that, the wall between us grows thicker. Soon, even the memories of Dylan and me will be inaccessible.
“Forget about him,” Estelle whispers. “He’s jealous. He’ll come around.”
“I somehow doubt that,” I murmur, offering Troy a smile. “I’m ready when you are.”
Chapter 6
Dylan
“Don’t say a word, Mom,” I bite out, slamming the cupboard shut and pouring myself a finger of scotch.
“My lips are sealed. Although, you brought this on yourself, Dylan. You know that.”
“Stop helping, okay? You’re not helping.” I feel like a moron. My mother directs me to take Poppy to dinner, as if I’m twelve and incapable of asking a woman out on a date.
Then, to top off an already banner evening, Troy steals Poppy right out from under me. And she allows it!