It Must Be Christmas: Three Holiday Stories

His eyebrows went up, and she offered a smile that she hoped wasn’t too goofy-looking. “Small town,” she reminded him, and he chuckled, sending a warm shiver over her. It seemed her rugged mystery man was just as attractive up close. Lucky for her. Perhaps she’d been neglecting her love life for a little too long.

Dave smiled at her. “I’m pretty new around here. The guy I work for is helping out today and mentioned they needed some help. I thought I’d lend a hand. Maybe meet some people.” His eyes were warm. “Looks like I’m off to a good start.”

She hoped she wasn’t blushing, because she got the feeling he was flirting. She blinked, then smiled back. “I think you’re off to a very good start.”

Their gazes held for a few moments and Charlie held her breath. This was something she wasn’t exactly used to. To have her mystery man standing before her, in the flesh, making conversation … surreal. To say the least.

“Anyway, sorry about the manger,” he apologized, breaking the spell. “It’s kind of crude, but I didn’t have much time to put it together.”

She looked down at the rough wood. It wasn’t fancy, but it was solidly constructed. “You built this?”

“Apparently the one they had was falling apart. Time to replace it.” He shrugged. “I’m more used to working with boats and engines than carpentry, but I borrowed some tools, got some scrap wood from my landlord, and gave it my best shot.”

“Aren’t we lucky that you’re so … handy.” And hot. And friendly.

“I’m not sure about that. Anyway, you seemed to be standing around the manger for a long time and I wondered if something needed fixing.”

Charlie looked up at him, feeling her cheeks heat again beneath his honest gaze. Good heavens, where was her confidence? “There’s nothing wrong with the manger. It’s silly, really. I…”

“You?” he prompted.

She swallowed. “I put in the straw but I was wondering if there was anything to put over top of it before I put down the, uh, baby.”

“Over top?”

“You know.” She gestured with her free hand. “Like a blanket or something. Because the straw is so scratchy and rough.”

His gaze softened and she felt a little bit embarrassed and a little bit melty.

“I don’t think it’s going to matter to the doll, Charlie.”

He finally said her name and it sounded so nice in his deep, smooth voice she wondered if she was really looking at Dave, the Christmas angel.

She let her eyes meet his, felt the connection to her toes. “It’s not just a doll,” she said softly. “It’s Baby Jesus.”

And there was that smile again, and a hint of perfectly white teeth. “You’re right,” he responded, taking a step forward. Charlie held her breath as he came closer, peering over her shoulder at the wood and straw. He smelled good too. A little like lumber, but more like man. The kind of scent that made a woman want to burrow her face into the soft fabric of his shirt and just breathe deeply …

He took a step back and she let out her breath. Okay. Granted, her time in Jewell Cove had been a significant dry spell, but this was getting ridiculous.

“I might have something in my car that would work. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Okay,” she replied, feeling dumb, but enjoying the view as he walked away toward the church parking lot.

*

Dave strode away toward the parking lot feeling a little bit off balance after the encounter with the good doctor. The men on the dock called her Dr. Pit Bull, and Dave thought they must be thinking about two different people. Charlene—Charlie—seemed quiet, and, well, cute. She’d blushed when they’d talked and stammered a little too. In fact, she’d looked adorable, standing there with the doll and surrounded by tangles of Christmas lights.

He reached his SUV and opened the trunk. Inside the plastic tub containing extra windshield washer, oil, and jumper cables was a crumpled pile of rags, mostly comprised of old T-shirts. He grabbed a beige one, closed the tailgate again, and headed back toward the nativity scene where Charlie waited. She was a tiny little thing, maybe five foot four or five, her build slight. She rather reminded him of a ballerina, with a dainty strength about her. Her black hair was braided precisely, highlighting the porcelain smoothness of her skin, and a set of exotic brown eyes that a man could lose himself in. She was absolutely stunning.

The doll was still in her arms when he reached the nativity again, and he grinned at the strange sight. He held out the shirt. “This is clean, and nice and soft. Will it work?”

The smile on her face made the day worthwhile. “That’s perfect! Plus, it’s almost the same color as the straw. It’ll blend in really well.”

It was cute how she was worried about authenticity. And the comfort and welfare of a plastic doll.

Dave folded the cotton and draped it over the bumpy straw. He watched as Charlie lay the doll down as carefully as if it were a real baby, then stood back. “That definitely looks better,” she said, hands on her hips.

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