That was easy for a woman who looked like Shirlene Dalton to say. One little twitch of her hips made men go wild. Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as well endowed. Besides, she’d thrown herself at Ethan more times than she could count without a reaction, and her self-esteem couldn’t take any more rejection.
“Shirlene!” Cindy Lynn’s voice echoed across the front lawn of the church. “I realize you think you deserve special treatment because you’re hostin’ the big Christmas party tomorrow night. But tonight I am in charge, and you need to be with the other angels on the bleachers instead of cavortin’ with the sheep.”
Shirlene’s eyes narrowed. “If her husband doesn’t wise up and slip that woman a Xanax, I’m going to do it for him. Because if anyone should be tranquilized, it’s Cindy Lynn.” She sashayed off just as Rye Pickett came hustling around the corner of the church.
“Pastor Robbins is comin’!” he yelled. “He just pulled up into the back parkin’ lot and should be here any second.”
“Places, y’all!” Cindy Lynn’s voice screeched even higher.
Not wanting to bring on Cindy Lynn’s wrath, Sam hurried to get to her flock on the other side of the stable. Unfortunately, as she came around the corner of the wooden structure, she ran smack dab into Ethan. His hands slipped around her waist, and she was lifted clean off her boots. As always, the closeness of his large body sucked all the wind right out of her.
Usually, he released her as soon as he touched her. But this time, his hands tightened on her waist as he continued to hold her inches from the ground. Beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, his deep green eyes stared at her as if it was the first time he’d seen her.
“Sam.” The word hung in the cold night air between them, not quite a question and not quite an answer.
“It looks like Ethan was just a late bloomer.” Rye Pickett’s voice cut through Sam’s daze. “First, I saw him at Bootlegger’s with Marcy, and now he’s hittin’ on her sister.”
Her eyes narrowed. Ethan had been at Bootlegger’s with Marcy?
Anger replaced desire, and she shoved against his chest until he released her. She might’ve given him a piece of her mind if the outside lights hadn’t clicked off, throwing the front lawn of the church into darkness. The darkness worked much better than Cindy Lynn’s screeches. Before Sam could utter a word, she was being pushed along with the crowd as people hurried to get to their spots.
Sam no longer felt like being part of the Christmas celebration. But just as she started to make her way through the flock, the doors of the church opened.
“Hit it, Darla!” Cindy Lynn yelled through the bullhorn.
The outside lights came back on along with about a zillion others. Twinkle lights covered all the bushes and trees. Multicolored lights lined the windows of the church. And a bunch of Japanese lanterns hung from the eaves of the stable Kenny Gene had built. A stable that was painted bright Bramble High purple and framed by fake palm trees covered in more lights.
“ ‘And there were in the same country,’ ” Cindy Lynn’s voice rang out. “A country no doubt very similar to the great state of Texas.” There was a mutter of “amens.” “ ‘Shepherds abiding in the field, keepin’ watch over their sheep by night.’ ”
The townsfolk sheep all started to baa, except for the goat who continued to munch on sleeping Moses’ robe. “ ‘And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them.’ ” When nothing happened, Cindy yelled louder. “And an angel of the Lord came upon them!”
A spotlight suddenly shone on the stable. And with a creak of rope, Kenny Gene rose above the huge star on the very peak. He might’ve looked pretty authentic if not for the cowboy hat and the shovel of poop in his hand.
“I ain’t ready,” he said. But when Cindy Lynn hissed at him through the bullhorn, he stopped looking for a place to drop the pooper scooper and spoke his lines.
“Don’t be scared, for I bring y’all tidin’s of great joy that will be to all folks. For unto yew is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign onto y’all; Yew shall find the babe wrapped in swallowin’ clothes and lyin’ in a manger.”
On cue, Mary leaned over the tiny wooden manger. Since Faith and Hope looked identical in their costumes, Sam wasn’t sure which Mary it was until Slate Calhoun stepped up. He looked down at Faith with so much love that tears welled up in Sam’s eyes. But they evaporated quickly enough when Faith lifted the baby Jesus from the manger.
It had to be the scariest-looking doll Sam had ever seen in her life. With its vacant glass eyes and sneering expression, the porcelain face could only be described as demonic. And Rufus Miles, who was perched on Hope’s hip waiting for his turn at baby Jesus, must’ve thought so too. Rufus took one look at the doll and let out a bloodcurdling howl that sent shivers up Sam’s spine.
The howl frightened Lowell’s cow so much that he jerked back on his lead rope and pulled a two-by-four loose. The board slapped Ethan’s donkey, Buckwheat, in the butt, causing him to kick the back wall of the stable in self-defense. Japanese lanterns wobbled as the entire stable fell backward, the top point of the star of Bethlehem catching Kenny’s arm and sending animal poop showering down. But it wasn’t the poop that had the people scurrying for cover as much as the icy rain that suddenly fell from the sky. Josephs scooped up Marys, and along with wisemen, shepherds, sheep, and the heavenly host, made a mad dash for the church while Cindy Lynn screamed through the bullhorn.
“Come back here! We ain’t finished!”
But a freezing rainstorm beat out a live nativity scene any day.
Instead of heading inside, Sam chased after the goat that was following Moses Tate into the church, still munching on his robes. And once she had the goat by his halter, she turned back to the collapsed stable to help Ethan with the other animals.
Lowell’s barn was only a block and a half away from Main Street. But by the time she finished helping Ethan get the animals safely inside, she was soaked to the skin and freezing. She would’ve headed home for a hot bath if Ethan hadn’t been blocking the only exit.
He held his hat in his hand, his wheat-colored hair wet and in need of a good trim. Droplets of water dripped down his cheeks and a square jaw that was as stubble-free as it had been earlier that morning. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again.
“What, Ethan?” Sam propped a hand on her hip, squeezing water from her jeans. “Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly lost the ability to talk to me. Especially since it’s only women you’re interested in that seem to make you stammer.” She lifted her eyebrows, but the effect was lost beneath the soaked, sagging hood. She shoved it off her head. “Of course, I guess you didn’t worry about talkin’ when you were at Bootlegger’s with my sister.”
A baffled look spread across his face, and he rubbed the back of his neck. At one time, the gesture had been endearing. But now it just annoyed her.
“I guess not,” he said. “Seein’ as how me and your sister didn’t do much talkin’.”
Could blood vessels pop from mere anger? Sam thought it might be possible as she stared at Ethan and tried to keep from racing over and slapping him upside the head.
“Now, you and me, on the other hand,” he continued, completely unaware of her anger, “we’ve always been able to talk up a storm. Something I’ve missed more than I was willing to admit.” He glanced up at her, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Are you gonna hit me, Sammy?”
It took a real effort to unclench her fists.
“No, Ethan,” she said. “I’m not going to hit you. I’m going to leave.” She walked around him. But before she could get through the huge opening, the wide wooden doors slammed shut. At first she thought it was the wind. Except when she tried to push them open, neither would budge. She pressed an eye to a knothole just in time to see a devil in a red dress race off in the sleety night.