An Aspen Creek Christmas. Roxanne Rustand

If there was enough time, they could also drop in on Keeley’s antiques store for cookies.

      And—admittedly—stop somewhere for lunch. “I...guess so. In an hour?”

      “Perfect. Do you have a favorite place?”

      Despite her resolutions regarding Ethan, the deep timbre of his voice still sent an unwanted tingle of awareness shivering over her skin.

      “I think the kids would like the Creek Malt Shop. It’s fairly new, but has 1950s décor, and they make malts with scoops of real ice cream. Their burgers are the best in town and they have old-fashioned pinball machines in the back—no charge.” She glanced at the kids. “What do you two think—sound good?”

      When they nodded, she returned to the call. “The Malt Shop faces the town square. We were heading down there to see the holiday decorations after we finish shopping, anyway. We’ll be there in an hour.”

      She ended the call and sighed. They would show up to meet him, but she doubted she could eat a single bite. Her stomach was already tying itself into a tight knot.

      She’d stayed awake until two in the morning, worrying about what the future would bring with Ethan in the mix. Praying that he might see the flaws in his plan and just give up and go back to Dallas.

      But, nope—he was still here. And he was already finding ways to keep in touch.

      Which proved that she’d better plan to keep on her toes.

      * * *

      Ethan idly ran a fingertip through the condensation on his malt glass and settled back in the booth. He glanced at his watch once more.

      The hesitance in Hannah’s voice had been unmistakable over the phone. Would she even show up?

      His booth was right in front of a plateglass window looking out over the street and, beyond that, the town square where clusters of folks were busy winding strands of Christmas lights on the dozen pine trees scattered throughout the little park.

      A larger team was tackling the towering blue spruce in the center, utilizing a cherry picker to reach the very top.

      Though it was only the Saturday after Thanksgiving Day, Christmas music already blared from loudspeakers in the square, and even through the window, he could hear the banter and laughter from the crowd as they worked.

      Christmas seemed to be everywhere.

      Even in this hamburger joint, there had to be a dozen tabletop-sizes Christmas trees with twinkly lights perched on shelves, counters and in the corners. Wreaths and Christmas stockings hung on the walls. Over each booth and table a sprig of mistletoe hung from the ceiling on a bright red ribbon.

      It was as if Christmas had exploded in here, and it made him edgy. Bah humbug.

      He caught sight of Hannah—her shimmering, pale blond hair unmistakable, even from a distance—weaving through the crowd across the street, where she was making slow progress by chatting to every person she met. Cole walked at her side, wearing a puffy, bright red jacket. Molly, in a similar hot-pink jacket, followed a few yards behind with a sullen expression.

      They finally made their way across the street and he saw Hannah square her shoulders and take a deep breath before ushering the kids inside the Malt Shop. From her grim expression she didn’t seem at all happy to be there.

      In a moment they arrived at his booth. Molly and Hannah slid in opposite him and Cole scrambled next to Ethan. The faint, familiar scent of Hannah’s perfume wafted in the air, reminding him of the past they’d shared. One he needed to forget.

      “Sorry if we’re a bit late,” Hannah murmured as she grabbed menus from the rack behind the napkin dispenser and dealt them out.

      “I got a new coat and mittens and boots,” Cole announced. “And other stuff, ’cause it’s cold here.”

      Molly rolled her eyes and dropped her gaze to her menu.

      “Looks like you got a new coat, as well,” Ethan said to her. “Have you found your sleds yet?”

      She shook her head.

      “We never had sleds before,” Cole announced. “’Cause we didn’t get enough snow. But Aunt Hannah says we’ll get lots tonight. Five whole inches!”

      “The most I ever saw in Dallas was a few flurries.” Ethan shifted his gaze to Hannah. “So I’ve never gone shopping for sleds, either. Can I come along?”

      She gave him a stiff smile. “Of course. The hardware store is a couple of blocks over and it usually has a good supply.”

      Cole’s eyes lit up. “Maybe you can both get a sled, too, and then we can all go. Aunt Hannah says she’ll bring hot cocoa and marshmallows and cookies. So we have lots of energy.”

      Ethan chuckled. “Somehow I don’t think you’ll run out of that anytime soon.”

      “But you’ll come sledding, right? And for the carriage ride tonight?”

      “Well...” He angled another glance up at Hannah. “Is that all right with you?”

      The corner of her eye twitched but she nodded. “Aspen Creek Park is just a mile north of town and there are good sliding hills near the campground. The snowplows don’t usually clear the country roads before the afternoon on Sundays, though. So...” She considered for a moment. “Maybe two o’clock tomorrow?”

      “Deal.”

      “And the carriage ride, too?” Cole insisted.

      A waitress in a red-striped uniform appeared at the table with a tray of water glasses and a smile. “As you can see, we’re kinda busy, so just wave to me when you’re ready to order.”

      “I want a cheeseburger and a chocolate malt, with French fries,” Cole announced instantly.

      “Same,” Molly muttered.

      “That didn’t take long. Hot-fudge shake and a grilled chicken sandwich for me,” Hannah said without looking at her menu. “Ethan?”

      “Cheeseburger and fries. I’ve already got my malt.”

      Molly eyed the colorful flashing lights on the pinball machines at the back and gave the waitress a pleading look. “Can we play?”

      “Sure. Nice change from all those computer games, if you ask me. Unless someone else comes in and wants a turn, you can play as long as you like.” The waitress grinned. “At least, until your food comes. I’m sure your parents can keep an eye on you from right here.”

      Hannah’s gaze flew to Molly—expecting a meltdown over the waitress’s assumption. But the kids launched out of the booth and made a beeline for the bank of pinball machines without a backward glance.

      “Whew,” she whispered, her hands clenched on the tabletop. “That was close. I’m finding casual conversations can be quite a minefield with people who aren’t yet aware of our circumstances. I’m sure the word is spreading, but still...”

      It would probably be the same in Texas, Ethan realized, though he couldn’t help but think it would be easier if the kids were at least on their home turf. And come to think of it, there would be a few people who could make assumptions. He didn’t know people there anymore except Cynthia and his dad. He’d been gone all of his adult life.