Christmas, everyone!” Todd shouted into the microphone, which caused a feedback squeal that killed any notion of conversation.
Amy pressed her hands to both ears, laughing.
Todd kicked off the karaoke by barking a hilarious rendition of “Jingle Bells,” and others followed, singing the silliest holiday tunes they could find. Mack brought the house down when he sang “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” in a girly soprano, and not to be outdone, Jake warbled and acted out “Randolph, the Bowlegged Cowboy.”
When he finished and the stomps and claps subsided, Jake shot an ornery grin toward Amy and then toward his brother. Amy got a funny feeling in her stomach and slid down on the bar stool.
“Who wants to hear Rafe and Amy sing?” Jake shouted. “Just like old times. A duet.”
Amy’s gaze flew toward Rafe, who had the same deer-in-the-headlights expression she suspected was on her own face. But unlike Amy, Rafe unwound his tall form from the armchair, shedding Gabby as he came toward the front of the room and the karaoke machine.
“How about it, Amy?” Jake called, urging her on, his grin so annoying she wanted to pinch him. “Come on, now, don’t be shy. Amy. Amy.”
The crowd picked up the chant. “Amy. Amy.”
As much as she didn’t want to sing “their” duet, the situation was getting embarrassing.
She shot a frantic look at Mack, who hitched his chin toward the front. “Might as well get it over with.”
Gulping down panic, Amy headed to the front amidst good-natured catcalls and whistles. If any of these so-called friends recalled the history between Rafe and Amy, they’d been struck with a sudden case of group amnesia.
Or maybe that’s why they were so insistent.
Well, she’d show them. She could sing with anyone. But she would not sing their song.
She’d no more than thought the thought than Todd slipped a CD into the karaoke machine and the music started. She looked at Rafe in panic.
“No,” she whispered.
“Don’t make a big deal of it.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s just a song.”
Just a song? Did he know how much that hurt?
And when had he taken hold of her hand?
He smiled into her eyes.
“I don’t even like you,” she whispered.
His lips curved upward. “I know.”
Then the intro ended and Rafe began to sing the first verse of “All I Want for Christmas is You.”
Amy had sung for events since she was a tot. Singing didn’t scare her. But she didn’t want anyone in this room to think she still pined for Rafe Westfield.
She whirled around and grabbed Jake by the collar, crooning her first two lines into his surprised face.
Then she spun toward Todd and grabbed him, proclaiming that he could make her wish come true.
“Hey!” Katie hollered, pretending insult. “He’s taken. Except for when he snores.”
The room erupted in laughter and Amy relaxed. They were singing silly songs and she’d made this one fit the theme.
Todd took her hand and gave her a spin, turning her back toward Rafe. She stumbled in the spin and he caught her, reeled her in and stared down into her face as he sang of wanting to hold her tight.
Putting on an act for the crowd, he hugged her close in mock affection, but Amy felt the rattle of his heart through his shirt. He was as embarrassed by the attention as she was and probably wished he hadn’t come to the party. He probably wished she’d stayed in Spokane.
An urge to snuggle into his broad chest and listen to his strong baritone troubled her. He smelled good, like the woods in spring, and she felt so secure in his arms.
She stiffened, remembering. She was not secure with Rafe, war hero or not. She could not trust him, never could, though she’d been foolish enough to believe for a while.
She backed away, fanning herself, playing the game, giving their friends a good laugh as she and Rafe finished the performance with a dramatic flourish.
Amy hoped no one noticed that her smile was a little too tight.
Rafe leaned into her ear and whispered, “Sorry to put you on the spot. You okay?”
She nodded, face frozen in a fake smile. Of course she was okay, even if she felt like crying.
Chapter Five
Amy thought about the Christmas party for days afterward, and each time she and Rafe ran into each other—an inevitability in Snowglobe—she was reminded again of that one tiny moment. The moment he’d pulled her close, even in jest, she’d flashed back to those perfect days of feeling secure in his love.
She rang up a customer’s purchase, a set of keepsake ornaments.
“No time for a cup of hot cider?” she asked the woman, a teacher at the elementary school.
“Not today, Amy. We have a family gathering tonight to decorate the tree. I still need to put on a ham and bake a pie.”
“Sounds fun.” Smiling, she handed the woman her bag. “Enjoy. And Merry Christmas!”
The jingle bells on the door wreath jangled merrily as the customer departed. Her mom, who looked especially pretty in a bright blue top with a flowy jacket, came from the back of the shop where she’d been unpacking today’s shipment of gift items.
“Are you working at the church tonight?”
“That’s the plan,” Amy said, nonchalantly. “How about you?”
Dana shook her head, dark hair swinging like something out of a shampoo commercial. “Not tonight. I have other plans.”
Before Amy could ask what those plans might be, her mom rushed on. “Why don’t you go ahead and leave? You’ll need to eat first anyway. I’ll close up and see you at home later tonight. Okay?”
Amy blinked, noticing the sudden bloom of color on her mother’s cheeks. Was her mom trying to get rid of her?
“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying. Rafe has plenty of help scheduled tonight. I saw the list myself.”
Mom’s hands stilled on a display of glossy gold wrapping paper. “How is that working out? You and Rafe?”
“If you mean, are we civil, the answer is yes.” She got her purse from beneath the counter.
“I heard you had fun together at Katie’s party.”
“Really? You heard that?”
“Did
