A Cowboy Firefighter for Christmas (Smokin’ Hot Cowboys #1)

She entered the store to the sound of chimes, and then quickly closed the door behind her to keep out the heat. She smiled in delight, for she felt as if she’d been transported back in time, particularly after she read “Established 1883” on a sign on the wall. She admired the mellow oak floor to the high ceiling of pressed tin tile in an intricate design to the tall glass containers of old-fashioned hard candy on the checkout counter near the ancient black and gold cash register in back.

She could easily understand why Hedy loved this store. Knickknacks in all shapes, sizes, colors, and prices filled deep shelves and glass cabinets. One section contained country pickles, jams, and other edible items in canning jars. A prominent display of the Bluebird of Happiness, sky-blue glass birds in all sizes made in Arkansas, gleamed in the front window.

A tearoom area had small, round ice cream tables with matching chairs tucked into a quiet corner near a front window. A tall cedar tree decorated in red and green antique ornaments with a Christmas angel in a white satin gown on top graced that section of the store.

Misty quickly decided the tearoom was a likely spot for a quiet conversation with Hedy, who was bound to know everything going on around town, and particularly at the fire station. She just hoped Hedy was at work today. She headed for the back of the store.

“Misty, you’re just in time!” Hedy zoomed around the checkout desk in her wheelchair.

“For what?”

“Watch the place for me, will you?”

“Sell merchandise?” She blinked in surprise.

“Station’s gone quiet. Sure to be the new computer system acting up again. We’ll get the glitch solved, but so far I’m the only one who can fix it.” She glanced out at the street, then back.

“Do you want me to drive you? You could close the store.”

“Right before Christmas? Not on your life.”

“But how will you—”

“I’ve got a wheelchair van and I drive with hand controls. I get around fine and dandy.”

“I’ll be happy to help, but I don’t know how to deal with sales.”

“No need. Morning Glory’ll be over to do that.”

“Morning Glory?”

Hedy chuckled. “She’s got the store next door. Didn’t you notice it? Morning’s Glory. Too clever by half, I say.”

“What does she sell?”

“My point exactly.” Hedy rolled her eyes. “Far as I’m concerned, she’s still stuck in the sixties. And proud of it. She’s a flower child, if you know what I mean.”

“Not exactly.”

“You’ll see.” Hedy pointed to one side. “Our stores are connected by that open archway. If folks want to buy something, call her.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best. How long will you be gone?”

“Not long. And thanks.” Hedy waved a hand as she headed toward the back of the store. “Morning Glory’ll be over to introduce herself pretty quick.”

Left alone, Misty stood in the middle of Adelia’s Delights. She kept getting surprised in Wildcat Bluff, not only by the situations but by the people, too. Hedy obviously trusted her, a stranger, enough to leave her in charge of her store. That would never happen in Dallas.

“There you are!”

Misty glanced around. A tall, slim woman with a riot of long, curly ginger hair wore a lapis-blue shirt, long, swirling skirt in many colors, and burgundy cowboy boots. At least half a dozen necklaces hung down to her small waist.

“You must be Misty. I’m Morning Glory.” She clasped Misty’s hand in a strong shake.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Heard you have a good vibe.”

“I just got to town yesterday.”

“Good news travels fast.” Morning Glory grinned and small lines radiated out from the corners of her eyes to give her a warm and friendly appearance.

Misty smiled, not knowing quite what to say.

“Anybody who’ll take on a grass fire with nothing more than a towel is on the side of the angels.” Morning Glory glanced up at the top of the Christmas tree. “Heard you’re our Christmas angel.”

“Trey again? I just helped out.”

“Like today.” Morning Glory tapped the toe of one boot. “It’s quiet now. Later, you could get a stampede.”

“Christmas shoppers?”

“You know it.”

“What do you sell?”

“Oh, this and that.” She clutched her necklaces. “Candles, oils, herbs, vitamins. That type of thing.”

“I’ll enjoy seeing your merchandise.”

“Anytime.” Morning Glory held up two fingers in the peace sign. “We’d better put on our business faces.”

“I’ll call if I need you.”

Morning Glory fumbled with the jewelry around her neck, selected a necklace, pulled it over her head, and held it out to Misty. “This one’s obviously for you.”

“Thank you.” Misty hesitantly took the necklace, not wanting to be rude. “Is this macramé?”

“Made it myself. Beautiful, isn’t it? I’m thinking I ought to buy some supplies and teach a class before it’s a lost art. What do you think?”

“Looks like a lot of work.”

“Thing is, as I’m sure you know, when it’s art, it’s not work.”

Misty simply nodded.

“Now there’s an idea. Maybe I’ll teach macramé during Wild West Days over Labor Day.” Morning Glory looked Misty up and down. “Put on your necklace and let’s groove on it.”

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