Christmas with the Sheriff (The Fiore Family 3)

I settle in and then notice the snow’s only getting heavier, blanketing the street and sidewalks. “I better find the hardware store.” Bundling back up, I fix my lipstick and head down. There’s a young guy sitting at the front desk, and he nearly drops his book when he sees me.

“Hello, ma’am.” He can’t be more than sixteen, and I might have to close his mouth for him because it nearly hit the desk when he looked at me.

“Hi, I’ll be back soon. I just want to check out the town before the weather gets worse.”

“Um…yes.”

“Do you know where the hardware store is?”

“Um… is there something you need fixed? I’m not as handy as Mr. Black, but I can do a couple of small jobs.” He winks at me, and I pause. Is this kid flirting with me? No. That can’t be right because he’s nearly a decade younger.

Shaking my head, I answer, “No. Nothing to fix. I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s down the road next to the grocery store.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Sorry, we don’t have name tags around here since most of the guests are family members of the locals. I’m Frank. My uncle owns the hardware store.”

I nod. “Cool. It’s nice to meet you, Frank.” I wave as I walk out the door. So his uncle owns the place. I wonder if he’s single, or is he happily married too? After all, Mal sent me on a mission to uncover all the hot, single men for her. I shake my head and laugh at myself, which might cause some talk if anyone could see through this wintry mess. Pulling my hat down to cover my ears, I head up the road, passing the grocery store that is about two city blocks away.

Okay—this town is bigger than it appears, but I think I’ve reached the end of the main road. It’s too dark to go roaming, but since I’ve reached my destination, I might as well stop in. Hank’s Hardware has a spray-painted Christmas tree and décor on the front picture window. A feeling of warmth fills me, and then I finally grab the handle and nearly crash into the man from earlier. “Sorry, sir.”

“No problem. Are you okay, Miss Fiore?”

“Yeah, my friend wanted me to check out the owner of the hardware store.” I wink, as if he understands my meaning, which clearly from the look on his face, he’s clueless.

“Check out?”

I swipe my hand and say, “Never mind—forget I said anything. It’s just silly.”

“Okay.” He shrugs his shoulders and walks away to a running vehicle. Entering the store, I smell the sawdust and metal in the air, reminding me of a construction site. It’s strange, because I’ve only been on a couple in my life. “How can I help you, miss?” At the counter stands a seventy-year-old man.

“Do you have shovels?”

“Yes,” he says, pointing to a bunch of them directly beside me. I roll my eyes for sounding like an idiot. I have one in my trunk because you never know when you’ll get snowed in during the winter.

“Um…thanks.” I grab one, pay for it, and leave. The sun has already set; even if it’s early, it feels like the middle of the night. I hate the dark and being alone, but I remember that I’m in Snowfall, so I should be fine.

As I drop it off at my vehicle, I shoot Mal a text. Hardware store man is like seventy. Sorry.

Shit. There goes my dream. *sighs*

Better luck in the next town.

One day. Smooches.

Giggling to myself, I tuck my phone back in my pocket and then make my way to the grocery store. Surprisingly, it’s not that small. It’s not massive either, but it’s bigger than the mom-and-pop shop I pictured in my head.

Grabbing a shopping cart, I figure that I’ll need stuff for tonight and tomorrow. With the weather and the holiday, I’m not sure I’ll be able to have anything to eat. My room has a microwave and a small refrigerator. I hit the fresh fruit section where the sign reads “locally grown.” I snag an apple, some grapes, and a pint of strawberries. A clerk stacking the bananas smiles at me, so I return his polite gesture with my own.

I love fruit, but I don’t have a place to store it and since I won’t be here long, I don’t take much. Next, I walk down to the bakery section. It’s the holiday, and I’m all alone so I should just grab a single serving, but my eyes linger on the Eli’s Cheesecake, and well, I can’t help setting it in my cart.

At least it’s freezing out so my car can act as a fridge, or at least that’s the lie I plan to use to justify it—although I’m not sure to who. Anyway, I continue my perusal through the store when I see the sugar cookies in the cooler. I hate them, but below is a can of whipped cream. “What can I get to go with this?” I ask myself, and then I see it like a golden beacon: the last container of eggnog.