The Sheriff's Christmas Twins by Karen Kirst

to drown her sorrows in alcohol every night. His maternal grandparents had refused to acknowledge him and moved away shortly after his birth. He’d never met his father’s family. Doubted they even knew of his existence.
    On the boardwalk, Shane passed a pair of young men. They waited until he was several yards away before calling after him.
    â€œWhere’s the paint lady? Heard she’s a real looker under all that green goo.”
    â€œHey, Sheriff, are you two courtin’?”
    Not breaking his stride, he allowed their words to bounce off him. They weren’t cruel like the ones he’d endured as a youth, but they called forth excruciating memories better left in the dark shadows of his mind.
    Paint lady. Allison was going to love that.
    The mercantile’s bell jangled as he walked in. The store was bustling with activity, as it would be until after the holiday. The scents of cinnamon, cloves and oranges permeated the air. Quinn and Nicole had complimentary cups of spiced cider available during the weeks leading up to Christmas. It helped ward off the chill, especially for those folks who traveled miles to get here.
    Several people glanced his way, speculation flaring as their gazes switched from him to a point in the paper goods section. Allison’s flaxen hair glistened in the natural light as she tilted her head this way and that, examining a sheaf of decorative papers. If she was aware of his scrutiny, she didn’t indicate it.
    His neck burning at the unwanted attention his presence was drawing, he wound his way through the crowded aisles to reach her.
    â€œI’m sorry I ran late.” He pitched his voice low. “Caroline said you might be here.”
    â€œIt’s all right,” she said, casually holding the sheaf to her chest as she lifted her emerald gaze to his. “I figure that’s standard for a sheriff.”
    â€œYou’re not upset?”
    â€œNo.” She gave him a strange look. “I’ve taken advantage of the free time to do some shopping.”
    â€œWhat are you planning on doing with those papers?”
    â€œYou’ll see.” With a conspiratorial wink, she started for the counter.
    He followed in her wake, aware that their every word and gesture was being monitored.
    â€œYou can assist me in my project if you’d like.” Her bright smile invited him to share in her enthusiasm.
    â€œI’m not committing to anything until I know what it is you have in mind.”
    They reached the long, worn-smooth counter where glass displays housed everything from razors to colored-glass bowls to jewelry. She paused before the display of cakes and pies, her eyes round. He hadn’t forgotten her penchant for sweets. The Ashworth cook had catered to Allison’s preferences, and he and George had both benefitted.
    He pointed to an apple stack cake. “These are the finest desserts you’ll ever taste.”
    She lifted her face to his. “Better than the Oak Street Bakery?”
    â€œBetter than that.”
    A breath pulsed between her shiny lips. “And who is the illustrious baker?”
    â€œJessica O’Malley. Well, it’s Jessica Parker now. She’s married to a former US Marshal. She’s also Nicole Darling’s sister. You’ll meet all the O’Malleys eventually.”
    â€œI’d like that.”
    â€œWhich one would you like to sample? My treat.”
    She shook her head in regret. “Oh, no. I’ve had my quota of sugar for the day, I’m afraid.” Nodding to the window through which a vendor could be seen, she said, “But I will take some roasted chestnuts.”
    Shane kept his expression bland. “Whatever you’d prefer.”
    When she’d made her purchase, he guided her out into the now sunny day, one of those rare winter days with vivid blue skies and cheerful sun reminiscent of warmer seasons. He bought her a bag of chestnuts, but declined