Free A Boulder Creek Christmas by Mary Manners Page A

fling—or anything of the sort. I’m…I’m…”
    “Blushing.”
    “ Chloe …” Alani swept the tufts of clipped hair to the central vacuum panel as Mrs. Wexell glanced their way, grinning ruefully, as if drunk on every word of the conversation. Lani activated the vacuum motor with a tap of her foot, and the surge of a whirr sucked up the mess. As she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the wall-paneled mirror, she realized Chloe was right; a ribbon of crimson tinged both cheeks, rivaling the color of her hair. A slow-moving swath of heat merely punctuated her condition as, like a wave, it rolled up and crested the nape of her neck. She cleared her throat, searching for an even tone as the rush of her pulse betrayed her. She lowered her voice, turning her back to Mrs. Wexell’s prying eyes. “I wish you would give up your quest to play matchmaker—Ryan and I…well, it’s just not going to happen. Ever.”
    “Ever is a very long time. And who said anything about matchmaking? It’s just a haircut, Lani…and it looks like my brother can use a bath, as well, but that will have to wait until later. Must have been a hard day at the office.”
    Alani knew good and well Ryan’s office was the fire hall directly across the street. He’d volunteered there through high school, and had been hired on full-time the day he turned eighteen following graduation their senior year of high school. Now, nearly a decade later, he’d climbed the ranks to captain of the Boulder Creek Fire Department, overseeing a raucous and hardy crew of a dozen full-time and twice-as-many volunteer firefighters.
    A bell over the door chimed as Ryan strode through. The woodsy scent of smoke followed him like a halo. His face was smudged with soot, and when he tugged the hunter green wool toboggan from his head, heat-singed bangs fell across his forehead to frame eyes as blue as cobalt.
    “What happened to you?” Mrs. Wexell called from her seat near the drink station before Ryan could get a word in. Her voice rang with the aged rasp of someone who’d seen the downhill side of seven decades and carried the wisdom to prove it. “You look like something the cat didn’t even bother to drag in.”
    Chloe covered her mouth with the palm of her hand to stifle a snicker as Alani pursed her lips. Mrs. Wexell would sure have something to talk about when her daughter returned from Jenkins Five and Dime down the street to drive her home.
    “Brush fire over on Twelfth and Magnolia got a little out of hand, Mrs. Wexell. No worries, though. We got it under control.” Ryan nodded as if to emphasize the point. “You’re looking rather lovely this afternoon. Who did your hair?”
    “Alani, of course.” Mrs. Wexell lifted her hand to pat the lacquered ’do as a smile spread across her face, enhancing deep laugh-lines at the corners of her rheumy eyes. “Thank you for the compliment, son. I wanted to look dapper for the gala tonight. It’s a mighty generous thing you and your crew have been organizing to help bolster this town. A community garden is a fine idea. God will surely smile on your giving heart.”
    “It’s nothing.” Ryan stuffed the toboggan into the side pocket of his jacket. “My crew and I enjoy giving back to the people of our community. You’re the real hero, Mrs. Wexell…funding the lion’s share of the library arboretum last year. I’ve heard nothing but positive feedback concerning that project.”
    “How did you find out about my funding?” She jabbed a finger his way. “It was supposed to be a secret.”
    “Well, secrets don’t usually last long around here.” Ryan made a locking motion along his lips and then mimed tossing the key over his right shoulder. “But it won’t go any farther than me…and this room.”
    “Fair enough. Now, I suppose Alani ought to get to work on you. It’s going to take an act of God to restore your singed hair to anything presentable and to scrape that…that sooty rug of fur from