A Cold Creek Christmas Story

Olivia finally seemed to register that she had on her coat. “Do you really have to go?”

“I’m afraid so. I have to take Linus home or Lucy will be lonely.”

To her surprise, Olivia set aside the book, climbed down from the window seat and approached to give her one last hug.

“Thank you again for the books and for the stuffed animal,” she said. “It was the best birthday ever—and I haven’t even had it yet!”

“I’m so glad.”

“Goodbye, Linus,” Olivia said. She knelt down to scratch the Yorkie again and Linus obliged by licking her face, which made her giggle.

When Celeste turned to go, she found Flynn shaking his head with astonishment clear on his handsome features. She remembered what he had said about Olivia not warming to many people since her mother’s death, and she was deeply grateful she had made the small effort to come visit the girl.

“I hope we see you again,” he said.

Oh, how she wished he meant for his sake and not for his daughter’s. “I’m sure you will. Pine Gulch is a small place. Good night.”

She walked out into the snowy December night. Only when she was halfway back to the Star N did she realize she didn’t feel the cold at all.

Chapter Four (#ulink_01b9edd9-53ac-539a-8922-cd51a76d8bbc)

Over the weekend she tried not to think about Flynn and his sweet, fragile daughter. It wasn’t easy, despite how busy she was working an extra shift at the library and helping out in the gift shop of The Christmas Ranch.

Even the multiple calls she and Hope took from Joan about the movie development deal couldn’t completely distract her random thoughts of the two of them that intruded at the oddest times.

She knew the basics of what had happened to Elise Chandler and her daughter at the hands of the actress’s boyfriend, but she was compelled to do a few internet searches to read more about the case. The details left her in tears for everyone involved, even the perpetrator and his family.

Brandon Lowell obviously had been mentally ill. He had been under treatment for bipolar disease and, according to evidence after the shooting, had stopped taking his medication a month before, claiming it interfered with his acting abilities and the regular television role he was playing.

He never should have had access to a firearm given his mental health but had stolen one from Elise’s bodyguard a few days before the shooting.

She found it a tragic irony that the woman used a bodyguard when she went out in public but had been killed by someone close to her using the very tool intended to protect her.

The whole thing made her so very sad, though she was touched again to read numerous reports about Olivia’s dedicated father, how Flynn had put his thriving contracting business in the hands of trusted employees so he could dedicate his time to staying with his daughter every moment through her recovery.

None of that information helped distract her from thinking about him. By Monday afternoon, she had almost worked the obsession out of her system—or at least forced herself to focus on work as much as possible, until Frankie came in after a morning of online seminars.

“I figured out who he is!” her friend exclaimed before she even said hello.

“Who?”

“You know! The hot dad who came to story time last week. I spent all weekend trying to figure out why he looked so familiar and then this morning it came to me. I was washing my hair and remembered that shower scene in Forbidden when the hero washes the heroine’s hair and it came to me. Elise Chandler! Sexy dad is her ex-husband. It has to be! That cute little girl must be the one who was all over the news.”

Flynn must hate having his daughter be a household name, even though her mother certainly had been.

“Yes. Flynn Delaney. Charlotte Delaney, his grandmother, lived close to The Christmas Ranch and he used to come spend summers with her.”

“You knew all this time and you didn’t say anything?”

It wasn’t her place to spread gossip about the man. Even now, just talking to her dear friend, she felt extremely protective of him and Olivia.

“I’m sure they would appreciate a little privacy and discretion,” she said. “Olivia has been through a terrible ordeal and is still trying to heal from her injuries. I don’t think they need everybody in town making a fuss over them.”

“Oh, of course. That makes sense. That poor kid.”

“I know.”

“How is she doing?”

She thought of Olivia’s excitement the other day when she had taken the books to her and that spontaneous, sweet embrace. “She’s still got a long road but she’s improving.”

“I’m so glad.”

“Olivia is apparently a big Sparkle fan, and that was the reason they came to the story time.”

She had been touched several times to remember the girl telling her how much her book had helped during her recovery. Who would have guessed when she had been writing little stories for her niece and nephew that an emotionally and physically damaged girl would one day find such comfort in them?

To her relief, Frankie dropped the subject. Celeste tried once more to return to her work, vowing to put this ridiculous obsession out of her head. An hour later her hopes were dashed when Frankie bustled back to the children’s section, her eyes as wide as if she’d just caught somebody trying to deface a book.

“He’s here again!”

She looked up from the books she was shelving. “Who’s here?”

“Hottie Dad and his cute little girl! Elise Chandler’s poor daughter. They just walked in.”

“Are you sure?”

“He’s a hard man to miss,” Frankie said.

Celeste’s heartbeat kicked up several notches and her stomach seemed tangled with nerves. She told herself that was ridiculous. He wasn’t there to see her anyway. Maybe he wouldn’t even come back to the children’s section.

“I wonder what they’re doing here,” Frankie said, her dark eyes huge.

It wasn’t to see her, Celeste reminded herself sternly. She was a dowdy, shy librarian, and he couldn’t possibly have any interest in her beyond her status as his daughter’s favorite author.

“Here’s a wild guess,” she said, her tone dry. “Maybe they’re looking for books.”

Frankie made a face. “He doesn’t have a library card, does he?”

“Probably not,” she acknowledged. “They’re only here for a few weeks, then they’ll be returning to California.”

The thought was more depressing than it should have been.

“Well, ask him if he wants a temporary one while he’s here.”

Why did she have to ask him anything? She wanted to hide here in the children’s section and not even have to face him. But a moment later Olivia limped in, Sparkle the stuffed reindeer in her hand along with the new book.

“Hi, Ms. Nichols! Hi!”