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A Cross-Country Christmas(80)

Author:Courtney Walsh

And yeah, she supposed it was a little bit of a big deal. After all, the Festival of Trees was a big deal, and she’d been chosen to decorate the 20-foot tree at the top of Main Street. A tree with magical Christmas powers—it talked.

Everyone knew the secret of the illusion—a man with a microphone hiding up in the window of City Hall, right behind the tree. But nobody talked about that. It would spoil the magic. And around here, magic was precious.

Pru had never fancied herself an artist, but she had to admit, she was pretty jazzed having her work recognized by the town she’d adopted as her home.

“I’m not sure what I’ve come up with is going to go over very well,” she said. “Surfing and Christmas don’t exactly go together.”

A small dinghy carrying a tiny, decorated Christmas tree bobbed in the harbor. A light dusting of snow blanketed Nantucket’s cobblestone streets, which in a few days would be lined and lit with decorated Christmas trees.

Nantucket customarily was not known as a Christmas destination, but to Prudence, there was no better time to be on the island. The festivities kicked off the day after Thanksgiving with the tree lighting, and then a week later, the Christmas Stroll and the Festival of Trees. Because Pru was the artist who designed the talking tree this year, she would also have to attend a preview party a week from today, and she was thankful Hayes had agreed to be her plus-one. Attending fancy events alone had always made her feel like a loser.

As the owner of a small surf shop, her custom-made surfboards had garnered national attention last year when not one, but two pro surfers commissioned their own unique designs from Sutton Surf. An accomplished surfer in her own right, Pru had a great love for the Nantucket summer—but this time of year, when the island went still, that’s when the world turned to magic.

“Want me to take a look?” Hayes asked as they reached her SUV. “Give me a private unveiling?”

“Why does it sound inappropriate when you say it?” She grinned at him, ignoring the patter of her heartbeat, considerably quicker than was probably healthy.

He smiled back. “I assure you I have nothing but honorable intentions toward you, m’lady.”

Drat.

She got in the car and turned on the engine, rubbing her hands together and wondering if that would take the chill away.

“Thanks for picking me up,” he said. “My family gets in tomorrow morning, so I had no way to get their island car down here.”

She glanced over at him, still in a bit of shock he’d actually returned. Hayes didn’t typically get the chance to come to Nantucket often, and almost never off-season. Hayes had visited the island for a few weeks the previous summer, but she’d been traveling, so it had been months since she’d seen him face-to-face.

The fact that he’d been so insistent on coming for the Christmas Stroll had both surprised and worried her.

“You’re okay, right?” she asked.

He frowned. “’Course.”

“I was surprised you wanted to come to the island for the holidays—that’s not typical for you.”

“Well, it’s not typical for my best friend to be the artist selected to design the talking tree.”

She studied him. What wasn’t he telling her?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” She put the car in reverse and slowly backed out of the parking lot and onto the street.

“Like you think there’s more to the story.” He shifted in the seat.

“Is there more to the story?” She steadied her gaze on the road in front of her as the sun faded and the moonlight began to shine.

“Nah,” he said. “This trip is all about you, as it should be.”

She liked the way that sounded. If she dwelled on it for too long, she might actually believe that his being here, like that hello kiss, was about a whole lot more than being a good friend.

But no, she’d set the tone for this relationship the day she and Hayes met ten years prior. She thought of that day often. Would things be different if she hadn’t responded the way she did?

Hayes was a typical, cocky rich kid who thought too highly of himself. At least that’s what she thought at the time. His group of guys came stocked with an entourage of bikini-clad, toned, blond girls, and Pru knew the type all too well.

So when he caught the same wave she did, the only thing she could think was I’ll show you how it’s done, pretty boy.

And she did. He wiped out almost instantly, but Pru rode the wave all the way in with such precision, such finesse, it garnered the attention of not only Hayes, but his entire posse.

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