Page 26 of A Match Made at Christmas

“Is that the famous surfboard artist, Miss Prudence Sutton?”

They all turned in the direction of a man’s voice. When Prudence spotted the older, Jimmy Buffett lookalike, she let out a squeal like he’d never heard. Hayes took a step back while Prudence threw herself in the man’s arms. He glanced over at Peggy, who had turned so red she might as well be a sun-ripened tomato.

“Hayes, you remember Howie!” Pru hugged him again, then squeezed his arm.

“Oh, right.” Hayes shook the man’s hand. “You used to own the surf shop.”

“Before he sold it to me.” Pru’s entire face brightened. “This man taught me everything I know about making surfboards, and a few things I never wanted to know about drinking tequila—namely, don’t do it.” She laughed.

As Pru chattered on, Hayes stole quick glances at Peggy, who seemed unable to decide if she should stick around for a conversation she wasn’t really a part of or take off—which he suspected was what she’d rather do.

But there was something else too. Her cheeks were still flushed, and she refused to look at Howie.

He glanced over at Howie, whose attention seemed to be split between Prudence and Peggy.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Pru said now.

“Howie, do you remember Peggy Swinton?” Hayes asked.

Pru glanced at him, then realized she’d been blabbering on—and while it was adorable, it was slightly rude to poor Peggy, who looked like she might explode.

Howie reached out and took Peggy’s hand, not quite a handshake. “Peggy.”

The older woman still refused his eyes. She pulled her hand away. “I just remembered I have a very important errand to run.”

Pru frowned as Peggy raced off, drawing Howie’s undivided attention.

A slight tingle chased itself down Hayes’s spine. He looked at Peggy, then at Howie, and there was the tingle again.

Magic.

Oh, crap.

“That was strange,” Prudence said, turning back to Howie.

Howie shrugged.

“So, you’re in town for the holidays?” Hayes asked.

“Had to come see this tree Prudence designed,” he said. “It’s not every year a surfboard artist gets to design the talking tree.”

Pru’s cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Howie said. “Can I take you both to lunch?”

Personally, Hayes was still full of pancakes, but he had a feeling their day had just been mapped out for them. Howie meant a lot to Pru. While Hayes left at the end of the summers, Nantucket native Howie Basford hung around the island all year round. He was the reason Prudence chose to live here. He taught her a trade when college was too expensive. She had a lot of reasons to love the guy.

And when he left the island five years ago, after a bitter divorce from a woman no one in town had ever really liked, he sold the surf shop to Prudence. Because of him, she had a good life and a career she could be proud of. She’d never said so, but Howie was the closest thing to a father Pru had ever had.

“Maybe I should see if I can find Peggy,” Hayes said. “You two go catch up.”

Pru looked at him, her eyes wide. “Oh, right. Peggy.”

“Something wrong with Peggy?” Howie asked.

“Other than the way she dashed out of here like she’d seen a ghost,” Pru said, “no.”

“I’ll see if I can help her out with the rest of the preparations here,” Hayes said. “We’ll meet up later, Pru?”

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