The Sheriff's Christmas Twins. Karen Kirst

edges and dark secrets for that. He neither looked nor acted like the men of her acquaintance. Didn’t smell like them, either. The sheriff smelled like long days in the saddle, strong coffee and virile man.

      Having removed his outer coat before preparing lunch, he sat across from her in what must be typical lawman attire—trousers, vest and a long-sleeved, buttoned-up shirt, his sheriff’s badge pinned over his heart. His light blue shirt was shot through with pencil-thin navy blue stripes. His vest was a coconut-shell brown that matched his trousers. Both pieces of apparel showcased his upper-body strength. Every time he lifted his coffee cup to his mouth, she watched the play of his biceps.

      Before he’d left Norfolk, his physique had been whipcord lean. He’d packed on muscle in the ensuing years, and he looked solid enough to wrestle one of those black bears she’d read inhabited these East Tennessee forests. That, combined with his over six feet of height, made him a formidable adversary for the criminals who dared pass through his town.

      “Are you warm enough?” He broke the silence for the first time since he’d said grace.

      Heat from the kitchen stove permeated the adjoining dining room through the doorway. Lit candles positioned around the rectangular space added warmth to the ambience even if they didn’t emit actual heat. Clouds had rolled in, obscuring the sun and making the candles necessary.

      “Yes, thank you.”

      “I know this isn’t what you’d call a substantial meal. As soon as we’re done here, I’ll leave you to unpack while I make a trip to the mercantile.”

      “It may not be typical, but it’s filling. Besides, now I can say I’ve tried pickled peaches.”

      “I’m sure your friends will be impressed,” he drawled, his eyes hooded.

      Besides the preserved fruit, her plate boasted corn cakes, fried ham slices and sautéed onions. While simple, the food tasted delicious.

      She dabbed the napkin to her mouth. “Since I’ll be here the duration of the holiday season, what can I expect in the way of celebrations?”

      He lowered his fork. “That’s not something I pay much attention to.”

      “Does the town host a parade?” she prompted. “Are there parties? A tree-lighting ceremony?”

      “No parade that I’m aware of. I’m sure there are parties, but I have no idea who hosts them. I’ll have to put you in touch with Caroline Turner. Her mother is in charge of Gatlinburg’s social events. Either one of them can help you.”

      Frustration warred with sadness. During his years at Ashworth House, they had done everything possible to include him in their celebrations. He’d stubbornly resisted their efforts.

      Folding her hands in her lap, she studied the candlelight flickering over his rugged features. “Do you actually celebrate Christmas, or do you act like it’s any other day on the calendar?”

      “Apart from the commemoration of Christ’s birth, December 25 is like every other day of the year.” He sank against the chair, his fingers rubbing circles on the worn tabletop.

      Allison wanted to ask if his view of God had changed. While Shane had believed in Him as Creator, he hadn’t been able to accept His unconditional love. She struggled to find the right words, and the moment was lost.

      “The weeks leading up to it are not special, magical or even particularly pleasant,” he said.

      “The season is about family and friends, counting your blessings and loving your neighbors.”

      “Charity should be year-round,” he countered.

      “I agree. I serve on a church committee that provides for the poor throughout the year. I’ve witnessed how this season magnifies their lack, however. We have to be diligent to make Christmas extra special, especially for the children.”

      For a split second, his mouth softened and yearning surged in the azure depths. “Where were people like you when I was a boy?”

      Her breath hitched at the glimpse of unexpected vulnerability. He recovered himself all too quickly, face shuttering as he tossed his napkin atop his plate.

      “I’ll give you a tour of the town so you’ll be comfortable navigating it on your own.” Pushing to his feet, he stared down at her. “I can’t ignore my duties while we wait for George to arrive.”

      Pricked by his words, she arched a brow. “I don’t require constant supervision. I am capable of entertaining myself.”

      “But not cooking for yourself.”

      She stood and spread her arms wide. “So teach me.”

      His head jerked back. “You’re not serious.”

      “We don’t truly know how long my brother will be delayed,” she said, sweetly. “If the café’s food is as mediocre as you say it is, it would be to my benefit to learn the basics.”

      He put a hand out as if to ward her off. “Allison—”

      Pounding on the door startled her. Unruffled, Shane pivoted and strode to pull it open without bothering to inquire who was on the other side.

      “Ben.”

      Hovering in the doorway connecting the dining room to the living room, Allison studied the visitor. A couple of inches shorter than Shane, the attractive, auburn-haired man was broader in the chest and shoulders, his legs like tree trunks. His skin was tan and freckled from the sun, his eyes green like sea glass that sometimes washed up on Norfolk’s beaches.

      “Sorry to interrupt,” he said with a slight grimace. “I heard you had a lady friend in town.” His gaze sought out the room behind Shane, flaring when it encountered her. He nodded in greeting.

      Shane turned sideways. A draft of cold air traveled through the room, ruffling her skirts. “Ben MacGregor, meet Allison Ashworth.”

      Swiping his hat off and pressing it against his chest, he sketched a bow. “How do you do, ma’am?”

      “Fine, sir. And you?”

      “I’d say my day just got brighter now that you’re in it.” His grin was downright roguish.

      She laughed at his outrageousness.

      Shane’s upper lip curled. “Ben’s the resident flirt. He’s also my one and only deputy. Did you need something in particular?”

      The deputy didn’t bother denying Shane’s claim, she noticed. His eyes still twinkling, he addressed his boss. “Another fight’s broken out over on the Oakley spread. Figured you’d want to ride along with me.” He held a gun belt aloft.

      “You figured right.” Taking it from him, Shane fastened the tooled-leather strip around his waist. “Sorry I can’t stay and help you clean up,” he told her, his head bent to his task. “I’ll come later to deliver the supplies.”

      Her attention snagged on the menacing-looking pistol on his hip. The pearl handle was worn smooth, the barrel long and skinny.

      “I’ve never held a gun.”

      Both men stared at her.

      “Can I go with you?”

      Shane’s expression was one of disbelief. “Of course you can’t go with me. Why would you ask?”

      “You’re a lawman now. I’d like to see how you go about upholding the law.”

      While Ben shifted from one foot to the other, face averted to hide a smile, Shane leveled a formidable glare at her. “Until your brother gets here, you are my responsibility, understand? It’s my task to make sure you have your fun.” He smirked at the reference to their earlier conversation. “And that you stay safe while doing so.”

      “But—”

      “I mean it, Allison.” Putting on his