Free Cedar Creek Seasons by Eileen Key Page A

lure
my
constituents!
She plunged her hand into her bag and pulled out her last six weapons. Frosted cookie chairs.
Look, little girl, come get a cookie from Willow. Orange orange, raspberry red, lemony lemon, grape-ity grape
. She grinned like the rabbit on a Trix commercial as she walked slowly past the cozy little face-painting scene, cookies spread like a hand of cards. A straight flush.
    The little girl turned. A green stem streaked from her cheek to her nose. “Mom-mmmmy! Can I have a cookie?”
    Yes! Round one goes to Willow Miles!

    Drill in hand, arms folded across his chest, Wilson stared out the window. As it was supposed to, March roared in like a lion. On the other side of the glass, snow blew almost horizontally. Wind whistled around the corner of the barn. They’d had snow almost every day for the past week and a half, piling up to more than fourteen inches on the ground.
    He turned away and looked up at the light fixture he’d just installed. He set the drill on the island. It was only noon. He could get in a few more hours of work before heading to the Settlement Shops, but his heart just wasn’t in it. He hadn’t quite recovered from long days of face painting, balloon tying, and hosting a coloring contest—all things that could have been fun if the woman strong-arming customers next to him hadn’t turned into Attila the Hun. A week wasn’t long enough to recover from her.
    He shoved the curtain aside, walked into the kitchen, and opened the freezer. Two containers of Willow’s chili called out to him. He ignored them and took out a zippered bag labeled “Saturday” and set it in the microwave. He had a backlog of Fridays and Saturdays, thanks to the woman who’d introduced him to spontaneity and weird chili. The woman who, at the moment, was treating him like he was a carrier of some flesh-eating disease.
    He couldn’t think of a thing he’d said wrong on Valentine’s Day between the apple and dinner. They’d had one phone conversation that day—her side profusely sprinkled with words like
wonderful, amazing, special
, and
sweet
—describing him, not the caramel. By dinner you’d think Snow White’s apple had arrived on her doorstep by mistake.
    The microwave beeped. He didn’t even know what was in the steaming bag. Whatever it was, he couldn’t stomach it until they hashed this out. He wasn’t going to stand across the room from her at the big reveal. If she won, he wanted to be at her side to pick her up and swing her around and celebrate over dinner. If he won, he wanted a big fat congratulatory kiss right there in front of God and everybody. If they both lost, he wanted to laugh with her … and share a consolation kiss right there in front of God and everybody. He picked up his phone and punched her number.
    “Hello?”
    “Listen, I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry.” His words started fast and picked up speed, like hers often did. “If it’s just that the competition got out of hand, it’s over now and we—”
    “Mr. Woodhaus, it’s Star.”
    “Oh.”
    “Willi’s getting her hair cut.”
    He looked at the snow plastering the kitchen window. “She’s out? In this?”
    “She walked. She’s stubborn. I guess you know that by now.”
    “I’ve had some hints.”
    “I don’t really know what’s going on, but I’ve heard her talking to her friends. I think she’s waiting for you to apologize for something.”
    He rubbed his hand across his eyes. “Wish I knew what.”
    “If it helps any, she’s been a mess the past few days. I’ve never seen her like this.” She paused. “She misses you. And so do the boys and me. We were kind of hoping … well, you know.”
    He looked at the wrapped package waiting by the door. “Yeah. I know. So was I.”

Chapter 11
    S he didn’t feel as good as she looked, but a new outfit and a new haircut never hurt. Willow took a final glance in the mirror in the restroom at the Settlement Shops. A few bold, blond