Free Cedar Creek Seasons by Eileen Key Page B

highlights gave her hair a sun-kissed look. Her new stretch jeans sported rhinestones on the pockets and her raspberry-colored blouse was gathered in just the right places and hung loose where it should. Knee-high boots completed the look. Even her old leather jacket took on a classy, shabby chic look combined with everything else.
    If only she hadn’t been so nasty that the one person she wanted to care wouldn’t.
    She would have made things right a week ago, might even have been able to get beyond his deception if his blatant ploy to lure potential customers away from her hadn’t flipped her ugly switch. But now, instead of satisfaction, all she was left with was regret.
    She’d apologize today.
    Right after she won.
    She walked down the hall and turned left into the room filled with a surprisingly large crowd. She reclaimed her place with Star, Crystal, and Elsa. Against her will, her gaze landed on Wilson. The collar of a blue shirt stuck out of a black sweater she’d never seen on him. It looked soft.
    Sharon Goldman stepped to the center of the room that would soon overflow with child-sized furniture. She held an envelope in her hand. The crowd quieted. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a fascinating few weeks. We’ve had some very creative competitors and I’d like to thank them all. This is generally a quieter time of year for all of us here at the Settlement Shops, but this competition has served to …”
    “Get on with it already,” Crystal muttered. “Just say Willow Miles won.”
    “And now, it is my pleasure to announce that the person who will be occupying this space rent-free for a year …”
    Star sighed, long and loud. Willow tucked her hair behind her ear, smoothed her blouse, and cleared her throat.
    “… is … Wilson Woodhaus!”
    Willow’s breath lodged in her throat as if it had turned to ice.
    The crowd, all but the tight knot gathered around her, cheered. All six arms of her support system attempted to hug her at once. She pushed her way through them. Amid a flurry of “I’m sorrys” and “It should have been yous,” she put on her gloves and hat, zipped her jacket, and ran down the stairs.

    The snow had stopped. The sun peeked through a crack in the clouds. Willow sludged through slushy snow, walking across Sheboygan Road instead of turning, with no plan in mind other than getting away.
    Three blocks from the Settlement, a car pulled to the curb beside her. Her peripheral vision picked up the yellow glow.
    Wilson.
    He slid across the seat and opened the passenger door. He didn’t say a word.
    Willow closed her eyes briefly, let out a tired sigh, and got in. As he drove, she kept her eyes on the rutted road. “Congratulations.”
    “Thank you.” In silence, he headed out of town. Toward his house. Not a particularly good idea. A little far for an angry stomp home. He glanced her way. “Up for a walk?”
    Was he eavesdropping on her synapses? “I suppose.”
    The covered bridge came into view. Wilson put on the turn signal and parked just off the road.
    Snow blanketed the roof of the weathered gray bridge. Drifts formed meringue peaks at its entrance. They wouldn’t be walking on the bridge. Just as well. She didn’t want to be in a place covered with hearts and somebody-loves-somebodys when she was ticked at the somebody she was with.
    Wilson got out then reached into the backseat for a bulky black trash bag. Maybe returning empty chili containers. Or full ones. That would make a memorable breakup scene. Willow stepped into a snowbank higher than the boots that complemented the new outfit she’d bought for the somebody who would no longer care. They walked toward the footbridge that arched across the river and made an idyllic place to hold hands and gaze at the covered bridge while whispering sweet nothings. In their case, they’d simply be whispering nothings.
    Wilson stopped at the top of the curve, set the bag down, and leaned his elbows on the railing. “Care to