Two Hearts for Christmas

By Annalisa Russo

Baker Maisie Quinn opens Blissful Bites and finally realizes her dream—a business she loves and life in a charming small town with her two children. And if she wins the Three-County Christmas Bake-Off, the generous prize money will be a godsend to her meager budget.
When Wade Bennett becomes the new sheriff in town, he plans to care for his widowed mother and put aside money for world travel. So romance isn't on his mind, but seeing Maisie brings back memories of when he thought she might be the one.
As dreams confront reality, the holiday turns serious for the unwary couple, and heavenly helpers have only a few weeks to assist two determined souls get what they want for Christmas.

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Nov 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781509233045

Annalisa Russo

Annalisa Russo is a midwest girl who grew up in an overpopulated first generation Italian family in the burbs of Chicago. Along with a passion for reading and writing, Annalisa enjoys gardening, cooking for company, and frequently invents reasons for traveling. The mother of two grown children, she now shares her home with a narcissistic cat named Buster. She loves hearing from readers so check out her website at www.annalisarusso.com.

Book preview

Inc.

The buzzer on the stove went off, and Maisie jumped. She quickly wiped off her hands and grabbed a couple of potholders. Her heart missed a few beats as she strode toward the oven to check out her contest entry. There wouldn’t be time to create another. Wade set down his towel, opened the oven door for her, and stood back.

Jeez, that looks good, he said over her shoulder when she placed her entry on the island. He leaned over to get a good sniff. It smells even better. I think it’s a winner.

The crust was browned perfectly, the sugar crystals sparkled, juicy raspberries oozed from the creases, and the whole thing looked like a beautiful snowflake wreath. Maisie felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Her contest entry couldn’t have turned out any better. Now she could relax until next week, when she’d need to come up with another recipe.

She elbowed him in the side. You’re prejudiced. You know the baker. But she felt incredibly happy the way the festive pull-apart bread had turned out. Wade smiled broadly, and a lone dimple on the corner popped out, highlighting the enticing mouth she’d yet to experience.

Praise for Annalisa Russo

WHEN THE HEART FINDS CHRISTMAS by Annalisa Russo was one of the winners of the 2019 International Digital Award Contest for contemporary romance.

~*~

Books by Annalisa Russo

published by The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

A Girl’s Best Friend

The Cavelli Angel Saga:

An Angel’s Redemption

An Angel Healed

Angel Lost, Angel Found

Angel Boy

The Cavelli Angel Saga - boxed set

The Green Earth Christmas Series:

All Hearts Come Home for Christmas

When the Heart Finds Christmas

Snowflake Wishes, Christmas Kisses

Two Hearts for Christmas

Two Hearts

for Christmas

by

Annalisa Russo

Green Earth Christmas, Book 4

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Two Hearts for Christmas

COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Johanna Shapard

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2020

Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-3303-8

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3304-5

Green Earth Christmas, Book 4

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To the cousins, Tiers I and II,

who have the job of hosting Christmas now.

Thank you for holding our holiday traditions

in remembrance.

Chapter One

This wasn’t going to turn out well.

Holster your weapon, Deputy. Sheriff Wade Bennett eyed the jagged edge of glass with caution. Even on a bad day, Hank MacKenna, a solid six foot two and two hundred pounds plus, could do some damage. The glassy eyes and lack of balance indicated he’d been overserved. Unusual for the man. Hank never drank more than he could handle, but he was obviously feeling no pain tonight.

The vicious broken bottle glinted in the dim light of The Tricky Duck Tavern’s Rock-Ola jukebox. Wade thought it apropos that Mick Jagger was lamenting his lack of satisfaction.

But Chief—

Do it now, Cory. Wade waited with one eye on his deputy and one on the big man. Deputy Vance’s raised eyebrows morphed into a stony expression, but he followed the directive to holster his gun. Wade hoped Hank hadn’t noticed Cory chose not to flip on the Smith and Wesson 9mm’s manual safety as he had been trained to do whenever his gun was holstered.

He took a short step closer and took in Hank’s unwashed hair, matted full beard, his wrinkled, disheveled clothing.

C’mon, Hank. You know Emmett didn’t mean any harm. Tell him, Emmett.

The small man Hank had pressed up against the front edge of the worn mahogany bar raised his hands, palms out, and swallowed heavily. Hank’s thick forearm was shoved under the man’s chin, pressing tightly against his windpipe.

"I didn’t mean anything, Hank. Heck, lots of us lost our jobs when the mill closed last summer. I’m lucky to make a few bucks delivering papers for The Register. Hank leaned in slightly, and Emmett squeezed out his next words. How was I supposed to know Bernice lost her job this week? Honest, I didn’t know, or I wouldn’t have said nothin’."

Wade spotted a small movement when the barkeep took a subtle step toward the Louisville Slugger he kept next to the cooler. He made eye contact and shook his head in the negative once.

Give me the bottle, Hank. You know you’re not gonna use it. Wade held out a hand toward the big man. If the man decided to test his mettle, Wade knew the night would turn into a disaster for the whole MacKenna family. Bernice will have a hissy fit if you get thrown in jail. The woman just lost her job, Hank. Don’t put this extra burden on her. She must be plenty worried about you and the kids about now.

Hank scowled at the broken bottle in his hand. His thick, bushy eyebrows met in the middle. Wade watched as a dose of reality slammed across his visage. The man sucked in a breath, took a step back, and held the bottle out to Wade. Emmett stayed plastered against the bar.

Now…we’re gonna go next door and talk this out. No damage done, right? Wade glanced at the barkeep, who nodded. Okay. And Emmett’s not gonna press charges. Isn’t that right, Emmett?

Emmett sagged against the edge of the bar and reached out to steady himself. Nope. He managed a small smile and smoothed the wrinkled front of his down parka. C’mon, Hank. It’ll be Christmas in a few weeks, man. We’re all feeling the pain this time of year. You’ll find something. I didn’t mean no harm.

Wade gestured with his index finger for Hank to turn around. The big man’s shoulders slumped. His gaze settled on the barroom floor, unable to look Wade in the eye. He turned and crossed his wrists behind his back.

The barkeep let out a breath and a small expletive. He shoved his blunt fingers through his hair. The two other patrons in the room, who sat at a table across from the old fireplace, turned back to their hushed conversation.

The tension in the room evaporated. Wade let out a long exhale and nodded to his deputy, who snapped on the cuffs. He grabbed Hank’s money off the bar and shoved the bills into the top pocket of his dark brown uniform shirt. Placing a hand on Hank’s shoulder, he walked him out the front door.

****

Wade tipped back in his new ergonomic office chair and stapled the pages of his report. He leaned over, opened a drawer, and shoved the pages into December’s manila folder. Paperwork in a small-town sheriff’s office was usually relatively light. He hadn’t had more than a few misdemeanors and some petty theft the whole year. If the record held through December, the town council would be deliriously happy. He was in year two of a four-year term as sheriff of Green Earth, Minnesota. By the time his term was up, he’d be ready to move on. His mother was in a nursing facility here and in poor health. He’d been told this Christmas would probably be her last.

He glanced at his desk calendar. Usually, he made his trek to Equinox HealthCare on Wednesdays to check on her. Not that she recognized him anymore. Some days he was his father and other days his Uncle Bert on his mother’s side. On the bad days, she didn’t speak at all.

He pulled over the stack of travel guides from the corner of his desk and flipped through until he found the one on Tahiti. The military had only whetted his love of travel, and French Polynesia was as far from the sands of Afghanistan as you could get.

After his mother… Well, after he was free to do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, he planned to see the world. But as he thumbed through the pamphlets, he had the same visceral feeling he always got when he thought about leaving Green Earth for good. Where would home be then? Would he eventually come back, or would he finally settle down somewhere else? He had to choose wisely. At thirty-two, he’d probably not have a second chance.

When he heard Cory’s heavy gait coming down the hall from the cells, he tucked the pamphlets under a pile of newspapers.

Hank is all settled, Chief. Do you want me to stay? Deputy Vance shifted back and forth on his snappy English-made dark brown boots. Their spit shine dazzled the eyes.

Wade stretched, working out the tension-related kinks in his back. Did you get any coffee into him?

Yeah, and a ham-and-cheese sandwich. He’s back there snoring. Did you touch base with Bernice?

Wade snorted. Let’s just say I don’t want to be Hank when he gets home tomorrow morning. He stretched his arms over his head and let out a long yawn. Go on home. Nate will be on second shift in a few. Should be a quiet night.

What time should I be on duty for the blood drive tomorrow?

Cory grabbed his uniform jacket off the clothes rack and slid his arms into the sleeves. He brushed at his new official shoulder patch. Cory took the basic dress code rules very seriously: Members will be responsible for the proper care and maintenance of their uniforms. Wade shot a glance at his own scuffed boots and decided he’d get the Kiwi shoe polish out tonight—at second thought, after he glanced at the time on his cell phone—maybe tomorrow morning.

Nobody will show up until after church, so be there by noon. The community programs he had initiated when he took the job had been embraced by the folks of Green Earth. Depending on the season, the Sheriff’s After-School Kids’ Program put on adoption drives for the local humane society, did clean-up projects in the parks, held bake sales and car washes for local charities, and taught the elderly computer skills. He even managed to obtain a community development block grant for the library.

And now, his Shovel Snow for Seniors Drive was in full swing. The programs gave the high school kids an alternative and kept them busy and out of trouble. Several were contemplating life in the military or police work.

See you after the blood drive, Chief. Cory doffed his felt campaign hat and practically galloped out the door. He’d follow suit as soon as Nate showed up. He had a public real estate auction to conduct on Tuesday and a lot of information to go over.

****

Wade wound a thick woolen scarf around his neck and tugged on his gloves before he stepped out the door. A blast of icy cold air hit him square in the face. The temperature must have dipped at least twenty degrees since he hauled Hank out of The Tricky Duck.

At least his police cruiser was always in good working condition. Can’t outrun the bad guys without a decent ride. As the car warmed up, he took a minute to absorb the neighborhood. Snow, in soft dry flakes, fell gently. Not the waterlogged stuff that would stress the city’s plow.

Once Thanksgiving was over, it was a sprint to Christmas, and around Green Earth, nobody skimped on the holiday. In the two days since Thanksgiving, every shop on Main Street had put on their best holiday finery. He had to admit he had a soft spot for all the lights and displays. He’d not experienced much in the way of holiday decorations in all the years he spent in the military academy. Sure, he went home for the occasional holiday, but not all of them. Some years he had feigned reasons to stay at school. Looking back, maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea.

His mother had always put on a good effort for Christmas—until he left elementary school. Then she urged his father to send him off to a Jesuit military school a few hundred miles away. Not that the academy had been a bad experience. Just…lonely. Yeah, he was old enough to admit it now. There were some lonely times. He still wondered what he’d done to deserve it. His old man hadn’t been the warm fuzzy type, but he always thought his mother had been on his side. Until she wasn’t.

A big plop of snow landed on his windshield and tore him from the maudlin thoughts. He put the vehicle in gear and pulled out of the municipal parking lot. In the light of Main Street’s streetlamps, snow fell in slow motion, transforming the town into something Charles Dickens would have loved. He turned left and found himself the only vehicle on the street. If the snow kept up, Charlie, owner of Miller’s Hardware, would be in the city’s plow and out on the streets by dawn.

And what have we here? he asked as he approached the corner of Main and First. The lights in Blissful Bites Bakery burned brightly. Blissful Bites—the establishment opened last year by Maisie Quinn, a Green Earth native. Her spectacular bakery goods were the best in the county. But since it was after midnight, maybe it wasn’t Maisie Quinn inside, though he doubted a thief would broadcast his presence with every light in the place. Still, he might need to take a look. It wouldn’t be a chore to check up on the tall, beautiful redhead.

****

You see that, Horace? That’s why we sendin’ you to Green Earth. Melah glanced away from the vision overhead to the man across the table. The Boss just said He wants you to go real soon.

~/~/~/~

Oops. Didn’t know You were listening in, Shug. Uh-oh. I did it again. Called Him Shug. Yikes.

~/~/~/~

I know, Sir. I’ll have ’em both ready by the end of the day—Earth time. You can count on ol’ Melah, Sir.

~/~/~/~

How come I can’t go? Goot complained. I told Miz Giselle I’d be back by now to help with White Balloon’s holiday business. The girl had hooked one leg over the arm of her chair, and her fingers were tapping a staccato on the table. Her pink curls sported neon purple highlights and her tight jeans were tie-dyed.

Melah shushed her, pointed up with her finger, then snapped her fingers at Goot’s booted foot.

The girl jerked upright. Um…sorry, Sir…yes, Sir. I know them people in Green Earth need us. ’Specially if Miz Gee is in the family way now.

~/~/~/~

Oh. She don’t know yet? Got it. Mum’s the word, Sir.

Melah tried to get hold of the conversation before they were all in trouble. I kin take care of this situation, Boss. I’ll send Goot back to help Miz Gee and Mister Cord and Horace will go by Blissful Bites and help out at Maisie’s bakery. Okay?

~/~/~/~

Ah…sure. I can get Horace ready in time. But what’s his story gonna be? Maisie ain’t just gonna open up her door to a complete stranger.

~/~/~/~

Oh. I knew You had a plan, Sir. Not that I ever doubted You. I mean, You be the Boss. You got it covered. Melah grimaced. Okay. I’m done talking now. Goot and Horace will report to me, and I’ll pass the info by You. No problemo. Oh, boy. Why did she always get so tongue-tied and rattled when she had to talk to…

~/~/~/~

What, Sir? Oh, yeah. I know. Christmas is my favorite time. We won’t screw it up. I promise. Melah sucked in a breath and turned back to her two charges.

How was she going to turn Goot back into Holly Evergreen and Horace into her version of Santa Claus slash handyman by tomorrow? She’d gotten very fond of the people in Green Earth, Minnesota, and she wasn’t about to fail now. Goot had come through for Cord McQuada and Giselle Delacroix last year, but now Maisie Quinn had trouble coming. How would Horace be able to walk her through it and then help her find her one true love when the man in question was set on leaving Green Earth as soon as his mother joined them in Heaven?

She sighed. People were a lot of trouble. How did the Boss put up with them?

Okay, you guys. I need to whip you into shape by tomorrow, so no one is gonna get much sleep tonight. Horace, what did you do in that town, ah…Brighton Cove…before you come here? And where the heck is it?

Brighton Cove is in the United Kingdom, madam. I was in service as a butler for the Hovingtons. Charming family. Two girls, two boys. Mr. Hovington was president of the local bank and the Missus had her charities. Spent the last twenty years of my life with them. He sniffed and looked down his nose as he spoke the words.

Oh, boy. Melah sucked in a breath between her teeth. What do you know about carpentry, plumbing, and other handyman stuff?

I can certainly supervise workmen on the job. He sniffed again.

Goot snorted. This oughta be good.

Melah let out a longsuffering sigh. Horace…we better get down to business. She motioned for them to follow. I stopped by Central Grocery and got me some po’boys, fully dressed, and some beignets for dessert. All we need is some good hot chocolate and a lotta Christmas luck. Who’s in?

Chapter Two

Maisie scrubbed at her eyes. It was after midnight, and her holiday breakfast sweet bread wasn’t finished. Why had she decided on such a complicated recipe? She had plenty of other holiday choices that would have sufficed. She shook her head. No, something simple or ordinary wouldn’t wow the judges of the Three-County Christmas Bake-Off, no matter how delicious it was. Not with a five-thousand-dollar prize going to the winner.

She gave her creation one more cursory glance and sent up a short