A Cadence Creek Christmas. Donna Alward

      Then Avery spoke up. “That’s what I thought, too, Amy. Don’t give up hope. You just never know.” She looked at Taylor. “And I know for a fact that Rhys is smart and stubborn. Sounds like someone else I know. Keep us posted, Taylor.”

      “Yeah,” Clara added, her hand on her rounded stomach. “The old married women need some excitement now and again.”

      “I swear I bumped into him outside. Literally. Ran smack into him and nearly broke my phone.” She brought her hands together in demonstration of the collision. “It was dark, it was dinnertime and we had pot roast. End of story.”

      But as the subject changed and they cleaned up the paper and ribbons, Taylor’s thoughts kept drifting back to that night and how she’d almost reached out to take his hand as he walked her home.

      It was such a simple and innocent gesture to think about, especially in these days of casual hookups. Not that hooking up was her style, either. That philosophy combined with her long hours meant she hadn’t had time for personal relationships for ages. Not since the early days of her business, when she’d been seeing an investment planner named John. He’d wanted more than a girlfriend who brought work home at the end of a twelve-hour day and considered takeout a sensible dinner. After a few months in, he’d walked. The thing Taylor felt most guilty about was how it had been a relief.

      She balled up used napkins and put them in the trash. Time kept ticking. A few days from now was the rehearsal, and then the wedding and then Callum and Avery would be away on their honeymoon and Taylor would move out of the B&B and into their house until Boxing Day, where she planned on watching movies, reading books and basically hibernating from the outside world. It was going to be peace and quiet and then a family Christmas.

      Complications in the form of Rhys Bullock would only ruin her plans.