Page 16 of A Match Made at Christmas

He sighed as he stood. “Fine. But think about it, okay?”

“Fine.” She pulled her coat on, fished her gloves out of the pockets, and found a stocking cap in a box by the front door.

“You gonna put that on?” he asked.

She glanced up. “I was going to. Keeps the head warm.”

He smiled.

“Why?”

“No reason,” he said. “You just look pretty with your hair down is all.”

She had to turn away so he didn’t see her blush. Unfortunately, she turned straight toward the mirror and caught him looking at her. She tugged the hat over her long waves, tucked her hair behind her ears, and faced him.

“Oh, never mind,” he said. “Now you look downright gorgeous.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Why did he have to make pretending she didn’t love him so darn hard? She rolled her eyes, for effect. “Let’s go.”

They stepped out into the night, enveloped by cold and lit only by the faint glow of the moon. There was something romantic about Christmas on Nantucket, not that she’d ever had the opportunity to partake in that romance herself.

She fell into step beside him, and they were quiet as they walked.

“I forgot what it’s like here in the winter,” he said. “Peaceful.”

“I love the quiet.”

“Then I won’t mess it up by talking.” He laughed.

She bumped him with her shoulder and smiled at him. Her smile faded around the same time his did. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I know you, Hayes,” she said. “I know when you’re faking it.”

He stopped her, then pointed to the sidewalk where a small patch of ice stretched out in her path. He took her hand and led her to the other side, around the ice, and then kept on walking, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And maybe it was. Maybe that was simply how Hayes McGuire treated people. She’d decided a long time ago that his casual relationships with women meant something about him, but she realized in that moment it was an unfair assumption.

“I’m not faking anything,” he said.

“Did you know there are two versions of Hayes McGuire?” she said with authority. “There’s genuine Hayes. He smiles all the way through his eyes. He’s warm and kind and deflects praise. He doesn’t want to talk about himself but will regale you with stories of his travels if he thinks it might make you smile.”

A smile crawled across his face as he stared straight ahead.

“Then there’s this Hayes. His smile stops at his lips, and there’s something slightly troubled behind his eyes. Like he’s wrestling with something he doesn’t want to talk about. Or making a decision he doesn’t have the answer to.”

He looked at her. “You’ve got this all wrong, Pru. I’m just weirded out that my aunt wants me to play matchmaker while she runs off to Paris with her husband.”

They were on Main Street now, coming in to the crowd. Rosy-cheeked children passed by, squealing in delight at the sights and sounds unfolding around them. They stopped to maneuver around the line at a quaint stand selling hot chocolate.

Soon, the Town Crier would emerge, counting down to the tree lighting and caroling ceremony, signaling the start of the Christmas season. At his pronouncement, over 150 balsam trees lining the cobblestoned Nantucket streets would magically light up as part of the Christmas Stroll.

“My parents are close to the front,” Hayes said now. “They wanted a good view of your tree.” He took her hand and led her through the chattering crowd, until finally they located the McGuire clan.

“You made it,” Hayes’s mom said as he and Pru squeezed in beside the rest of them. She gave Pru a quick hug. “Good to see you, hon. The tree is beautiful. So fun.”

She always made Pru feel so loved. “Good to see you too.”

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