Almost a Christmas Bride. Susan Crosby

      “Honey, if rumors or betting pools get started, it would be because they like you. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t be worth their time.”

      Shana straightened. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

      Aggie patted Shana’s cheek. “There you go. If you’ve got time, you could stay for lunch. The pie will be cooled enough to eat after that. And maybe Emma could take her nap here, and you could get started packing.”

      Everything was happening so fast, Shana almost couldn’t take it all in. But Aggie had allayed some of her fears, and there was the excitement of the work ahead of her.

      Maybe she was a late bloomer, but blooming she was—finally—and she owed it all to Landon Kincaid, a man who’d always seemed to just tolerate her. Opportunity really could come from the strangest places—or people.

      Hours later, Kincaid had just pulled up in front of the Take a Lode Off Diner to meet Dylan for dinner when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen first, let it ring once more then answered. “I’ve been expecting your call, Aggie.”

      “Oh, have you now? Why would that be?”

      “I figure Shana already told you about my job offer.”

      “She did. Dixie must’ve called you because I told her I was worried about Shana.”

      “I promised Dixie I wouldn’t tell Shana how I learned about her situation. You’re the only other person who knows, who might guess at my motives.”

      “I’ll take it to the grave, Kincaid.”

      He relaxed. “Thank you. She’s proud.”

      “That she is.”

      “And she can get plenty angry,” he added.

      Aggie laughed. “Yes, but she’s also worried about her reputation, too.”

      “I’m aware of that.”

      She didn’t answer immediately. “If I were you, I’d let it be known right away what’s going on. If you try to hide it at all, it’s only going to work against you in the long run.”

      “Who should do the telling?”

      “You, I think. You might start with Honey. Word’ll spread from there, but it won’t be malicious.”

      Honey owned the diner he was about to enter. That was easy enough. “Thanks, Aggie. For everything.”

      “You’re welcome.” Before she hung up, she said, “You know there’s something between the two of you, Kincaid.”

      “Yeah. Animosity.”

      Aggie laughed a little. “There’s that, of course, but for all that she seems like one tough cookie, she really has a tender soul. Been hurt a lot. Worked hard to recover. Independent as they come. Got it?”

      “Don’t mess with her,” he said. “Yes, I got it.”

      “Okay, then.”

      He ended the call then put one through to Shana. “Aggie advises us to be up front about everything,” he said when she answered. “She says we should start at the Lode, with Honey. Now, I can do it myself, or you could join me and Dylan for dinner and we could sort of announce it together.”

      “I’m fine with you taking on that task. If I’m there, we’ll seem like a couple.”

      “Okay.” He was both relieved and apprehensive. He just wanted to get it over with. The diner was a microcosm of the town. The initial reaction would represent how everyone felt. “When will you be ready to move?”

      “Friday.”

      Four days from now. He wondered why she was stalling. She’d already told him she didn’t have much to pack. “How about Saturday, instead? I book as few jobs as possible on weekends.”

      “Works for me. Have you lined up a date for Saturday night?”

      “I’m thumbing through my black book as we speak.”

      She laughed.

      “Do you need boxes?” he asked.

      “I’m good, thanks. I called Dixie to fill her in, but I had to leave a message and she hasn’t called back. Have you talked to her?”

      “We email about the house now and then.” Not only were he and Dixie connected through business, he’d been remodeling and expanding Dixie and Joe’s house for months while they were honeymooning and working overseas.

      “I’ll try her again later. Um, would you ask Dylan to call me, please?” she asked. “We can set up a time for him to stop by the apartment and see what he’d like changed to suit him.”

      “Sure.” He saw Dylan pull up in his Kincaid Construction truck. “I’ll stay in touch during the week, Shana. Let me know if you need anything.”

      “I’d like to see your house before I move in. Figure out what I need to buy for our bedrooms.”

      “How does tomorrow evening suit you?” They finalized their plans, then he ended the call and walked to where Dylan was parking.

      “Hey, boss!” Dylan called out as he hopped down from the pickup.

      “How’d the bathroom demo go?”

      “All done.”

      They went through the diner door. “Even the tub?” Kincaid asked.

      “Room’s down to the studs. Found a few spots of dry rot.”

      “How’d you get the tub out on your own? The thing weighed a ton.”

      Dylan grinned. “Guess I’m stronger than you.” He jabbed Kincaid in the arm and danced around as if boxing.

      It was hard to believe that until two months ago the kid had been homeless. He’d already packed about fifteen pounds onto his six-foot frame, but still didn’t weigh over one-fifty. He kept his hair a little long, and girls had started giving him the eye.

      Kincaid waved at Honey, then they grabbed seats in the only open booth.

      “Be right there, boys!” she called out, a plate in each hand, her long salt-and-pepper braid swinging side to side behind her.

      “Eric called today,” Dylan said. “He and Marcy are coming up to see Gavin and Becca on Saturday. They invited me for lunch.” He looked away, his attention caught by four girls at a far booth who were sneaking glances at him and giggling.

      Eric and Marcy Sheridan had rescued Dylan from the streets a couple months back. Eric’s sister, Becca, had recently married Shana’s brother, Gavin. Almost everyone in Chance City seemed to have a family connection to someone else.

      Dylan dragged his gaze back to Kincaid. “Anyway, do you have something lined up for me on Saturday or is it okay if I have lunch with them?”

      “You’re going to be a little busy on Saturday.”

      Disappointment dulled his eyes, but Kincaid knew he wouldn’t argue about it. Dylan was grateful for the job, and more responsible than most eighteen-year-olds.

      “You’re going to be moving,” Kincaid said, timing his words to coincide with Honey coming up to get their orders.

      “Moving? Where? Why?” Dylan asked.

      “Into the apartment above Respite.”

      Dylan frowned. “That beauty shop place downtown?”

      “It’s a salon, yes, but also a day spa. There’s a nice one-bedroom above it.”

      “Where’s Shana going?” Honey asked.

      “I hired her through At Your Service to work for me. I need a housekeeper, for one thing, but more than that. Shana