CHAPTER TEN
With a baseball cap on, Michael stood in the baking aisle of the local market, staring at Sheridan as she compared two bags of brown sugar. He couldn’t turn back time, but an hour or even forty-five minutes would be enough to put them at the High Tide Gallery again. Instead of agreeing they wouldn’t have bad luck and walking out, as if nothing had happened under the mistletoe ball, he would say more about their kiss.
He wanted to do that now, but something held him back—the same way it had at the gallery.
On their walk along Main Street.
Inside the drugstore.
And now at the market.
Based on his sisters, women made a big deal about mistletoe kisses. To be honest, they’d always been a joke to him, a nudge-nudge kind of thing between him and his friends. At least they had be
