The Christmas Gift. Darlene Gardner

imagine you’re great at it.” Julia affixed a bright smile to her face. “I better get Derrick out of the ball crawl. Hope to see you at Timeout.”

      Alex nodded but didn’t commit. “Catch you later.”

      The moment Julia was gone, Alex zeroed in on Krista. She was still with the man in the trench coat, but it now seemed as though they were dancing. When the man stepped to his left, Krista countered by moving to her right. When the man went right, she stepped left.

      Whatever was going on, it was too intriguing to resist.

      “I keep telling you I don’t want an artificial tree!” the man exclaimed, loud enough that Alex could hear him as he approached.

      “How can you be sure until you look at them? If you don’t care to buy now, pick one out for our after-Christmas sale.” Krista noticed Alex and grabbed him by the arm. “We have a fabulous selection. Don’t we, Santa?”

      Alex felt like a conspirator who didn’t know what the end game was. “We sure do.”

      “I’m not here to look at trees,” the man protested. “I’m here to see Leona Novak.”

      “I’ve already told you,” Krista said, “I’m not sure where she is.”

      As far as Alex knew, Grandma Novak hadn’t budged from the cashier’s station. “I think she’s—”

      An elf shoe kicked Alex in the shins.

      “Ow,” Alex said.

      “Why don’t I try to find her for you? In the meantime, Santa, will you show Burton the trees?” Krista put emphasis on the man’s name.

      “But he doesn’t want—” Alex began. Krista squeezed his arm hard, causing him to lose his train of thought.

      “Excuse us a moment,” she told the man and pulled Alex aside. Her hair smelled great, as clean as a winter breeze. Alex was tempted to take her in his arms and breathe in the scent. He doubted she’d be amenable to that at the moment.

      “You’re not taking the hint,” she hissed. “I want you to distract that man, not take him to Grandma.”

      “Why?”

      “It’s Burton.” Krista obviously expected him to know who that was. He shrugged to convey that he didn’t. “Come on! Burton! The man she met online and told he could stop by the shop.”

      Oh, yeah. Now Alex remembered. “So what’s the problem?”

      “Charlie Crosby’s here,” Krista said. “I need to get Charlie out of the store before he sees Burton.”

      Her logic still didn’t compute. “What’s the big deal if the two men run into each other?”

      Krista settled her hands on her hips, in the place where the hem of the elf dress started to flare. She shook her head, and her long brown hair swung. “Burton could mess things up for Grandma with Charlie.”

      “Or he could start a healthy competition,” Alex countered. “Maybe Grandma Novak even arranged to have both men here at the same time.”

      “Charlie told me he came by to surprise her. Besides, Grandma hasn’t dated in twenty years! Believe me, the woman doesn’t know what she’s doing.” Krista narrowed her eyes. “Now are you going to help me or not?”

      The fire in her expression warned Alex what she’d think of him if he refused. “Okay. I’ll distract Burton.”

      “Thank you.” She smiled at him and bustled off, taking a circuitous path, probably so Burton wouldn’t gaze in the direction of the cashier’s station.

      Alex adopted a helpful expression. He rejoined Burton, whose face was pinched underneath his wild mop of white hair.

      “Don’t you dare try to show me any trees,” Burton said.

      “Hey, I’m Santa Claus,” Alex tried reminding him. “I aim to please.”

      Burton seemed to relax. “Between you and me, I met this Leona Novak on the internet. Didn’t realize how old she was ’til after I put on my reading glasses. By then, I’d already emailed her.”

      “Excuse me?” Alex injected his tone with heavy disapproval.

      Burton kept on talking. “Would’ve canceled but I figured why disappoint the old gal.”

      “That old gal is younger than you,” Alex said. “What makes you think she won’t be disappointed in you?”

      “It’s different for men,” Burton said. “Everybody knows we get better looking with age.”

      Grandma Novak would see right through this guy, Alex thought. Krista was across the store, ushering Charlie Crosby toward the exit. Showing Burton the door would have been the better move.

      “Go ahead and share that theory with Leona,” Alex suggested. “She’ll enjoy it.”

      Burton perked up. “You think so?”

      “Sure do,” Alex said. “She’s behind the cash register. You can’t miss her.”

      “Got it.” Burton strutted off, a lamb to the slaughter.

      Alex spotted Krista the instant she reentered the store. She looked well pleased with herself, her smile lighting up her eyes as she walked toward him. He was proud of himself for noticing her eyes, considering how much willpower it took not to let his gaze dip to the rest of her.

      “Mission accomplished,” she said. “I think Charlie’s a keeper.”

      “Burton’s not.” Alex gestured to the cashier’s desk in the distance where the elderly man was talking to Grandma Novak. “Your grandmother’s sure to send him packing any moment now.”

      No sooner had Alex uttered the words than Grandma Novak shook a finger in Burton’s face. He reeled back, pivoted and walked quickly toward the exit with his head down.

      “How did you know she was going to do that?” Krista asked.

      “Lucky guess,” Alex said. “I’m gonna grab a quick lunch. There are sandwiches, chips and drinks in the back room. Want to join me?”

      “I can’t,” she said. “I’m going to relieve my mom at the ball crawl. She needs the break more than I do.”

      “Good luck convincing her of that,” Alex said.

      “Oh, I’ll do it,” Krista vowed. “I can be very persuasive. It’s a Novak family trait.”

      She sashayed away from him, her elf dress swishing as she walked. He watched her until she rounded an aisle and was out of sight, helpless to look away.

      If she carried through on her threat to proposition him, he wasn’t entirely certain he’d be able to resist.

      Especially if she added persuasion into the mix.

      RAYNA NOVAK HURRIED through the parking lot to the flat gray building, her scarf shielding her face from the wind. She pushed through one of the double glass doors, expecting to be enveloped in warmth. Then she remembered.

      An ice hockey rink was not the place to go in the winter if you wanted to be cozy. She unwrapped her scarf, slipped off her gloves and followed the sounds of men’s voices and blades sliding on ice.

      Peering through the glass that partitioned off the rink to the scoreboard, she determined the ice hockey game was tied at two goals a piece in the third period.

      A team of men in mismatched dark hockey sweaters, some with numbers affixed with masking tape, skated against players wearing white.

      The swiftest of them wore the number seven because he claimed it was lucky. He stole the puck at the center line and streaked toward the goal with two much slower defenders in pursuit. He faked left, shot right and missed the goal entirely.

      He