Free Firefly Glen: Winter Baby (Harlequin Signature Select) by Kathleen O`Brien Page A

basic rules—No Mushy Stuff. Butthen he chuckled, forgiving her. “Come on. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
    They walked slowly, their feet sinking into the brand-new snow with soft crunches. Though slow, fat flakes fell all around them, it was easy to find their way. The moon was huge and blue, so close it seemed to be pressing its face against the treetops, peering in at them, trying to make contact.
    â€œThere’s the swinging tree,” Ward said, pointing to a gigantic cottonwood, its gray, ridged bark bright in the moonlight. No rope-and-plank swing hung there tonight. “Remember? That means the lake’s not far now.”
    During Sarah’s summer here, they had walked around Llewellyn’s Lake almost every day. Afterward, she’d seen it in her dreams a hundred times, reliving the green-and-gold hours of laughter, the kites, the picnics, the scarlet cardinals blinking between the trees, the clumsy ducks clamoring for crusts of bread.
    But when they finally reached the lake, she could hardly believe her eyes. It was frozen solid, a hard, vast expanse of blue and white and gray, as if a chunk of moon had fallen to the earth. They stopped at the edge, between two snow-heavy pines, and stared over its eerie contours.
    â€œSee that little white light over there?” Ward pointed toward the north. “Brighter than the others—straight across the lake from us? That’s the light at the end of Parker Tremaine’s dock. Just in case you were curious.”
    Sarah could barely make it out. It winked in and out of snowflakes. She turned to her uncle with a quizzical smile. “Curious about what?”
    â€œAbout where the sheriff lived.” His voice was bland, but Sarah noticed he didn’t meet her gaze. “It’s not one of the Season houses. But it’s a respectable spread anyhow. The Tremaines have been around the Glen forever. They’re good people.” He paused. “He’s a good man.”
    Sarah took a deep breath—then wished she hadn’t, as the freezing air burned into her lungs. She coughed slightly, hugging her uncle’s arm a little tighter. “You wouldn’t be thinking about matchmaking, would you, Uncle Ward?”
    â€œMatchmaking?” He sounded indignant. “Hell, no. Why would I do that? You’re getting married on Valentine’s Day, right? Nope, I just thought you might like to know where the sheriff lived. You know, in case there’s ever any trouble.”
    She pressed a little closer, using his strong body to block the wind. “What kind of trouble? You mean about the ice festival? Surely it won’t come to that.”
    â€œWell, now, you can’t tell. One of those greedy apes in town might decide I’m too much of a nuisance. Take Bourke Waitely. He owns the hotel, and he’s got a temper like a wet weasel. Smells like one, too. He might get some dumb idea that he could stop me.”
    She stared out at the lake. The snow was letting up, and moonlight flashed off its icy surface.
    â€œI don’t really know many of the details,” she ventured carefully, “but would it be so terrible if you let the festival proceed? I mean, rather than risk getting anyone so angry that…” She sighed. “I just want you to be careful.”
    When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him, her concern deepening. Snow dusted his broad shoulders and sparkled against his navy blue ski cap. He looked as if he belonged in this harsh landscape. Tough and rugged and alone.
    And yet, though he looked almost the same as he had fifteen years ago, the truth was that he was getting older. He wasn’t as invincible as he once had been. She found that she couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to him.
    â€œThe year Firefly Glen was incorporated,” he said suddenly, his voice edgy and bitter, “there were only fifty residents, all loggers and trappers. Simple