Snowfall on Haven Point by RaeAnne Thayne

sheriff doesn’t mind, anyway.”
    What if he did mind, very much? What if he wanted Ruben to take his charming smile and his easy conversation and get the hell out of here?
    â€œGo ahead,” he said, feeling crotchety and sore and about a hundred years old, even though Ruben was only a year or so younger than he was. “You can take it with you. Don’t you need to go report in?”
    Ruben glanced at his watch. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
    Andie pulled out a yeasty roll the size of a salad plate and drizzled with frosting from the wicker basket and transferred it to a paper plate that she also pulled out of the basket, and then she handed it over to Ruben. “Here you go.”
    Ruben’s smile was as warm and gooey as the frosting. “Thank you so much. Wow, this looks fantastic. I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning, so this and a cup of coffee will be perfect.”
    â€œI’m glad.”
    Marshall wasn’t. He wanted his cinnamon roll back and he wanted his deputy to focus on the job, not on flirting with pretty widows.
    â€œGet back to me if you find out anything new,” he said.
    â€œYou got it, boss. See you both later.”
    Andie smiled and waved, but Marshall could muster only a curt nod.
    â€œI hope he didn’t leave on my account,” Andie said, setting down her basket on a nearby table.
    On the contrary. Ruben had stayed about five minutes longer than he should have, on her account. “No. We were basically done when you showed up.”
    â€œHe’s investigating the hit-and run?” she asked as she pulled another plate from the basket and set a second cinnamon roll on it.
    â€œYeah. No leads yet.”
    â€œThat must be driving you crazy.”
    About as crazy as she was driving him, taunting him with pastries she had yet to actually deliver. “I’m not happy about it.”
    â€œI can only imagine. You’re still convinced it wasn’t an accident?”
    â€œI think I know when somebody tries to take me out.”
    A look of distress shifted across her features, making him regret his harsh words. She didn’t need to know all the details of the noninvestigation.
    â€œDid you have a reason for stopping by this morning? Besides the cinnamon rolls, which I appreciate,” he added pointedly.
    She seemed to collect herself and handed over the plate at last. “Sorry. Yes. I did. I finally had a chance to talk to Wyn and she told me she has a tree in the shed.”
    His taste buds were too busy savoring the delicious cinnamon roll—which, oddly, had a frosting that held notes of maple—to do more than gaze blankly at her while he chewed.
    â€œA Christmas tree,” she clarified. “Remember? My kids are coming over later today to help you decorate it.”
    Oh. Right. Her children seemed convinced he needed only a Christmas tree to make everything all better. He swallowed another bite of cinnamon roll, thinking he would have to figure out a way to lift weights sitting down if he wanted to burn off all the goodies he wasn’t very good at resisting when he was cranky and sore.
    â€œI thought I would try to set the tree up and test the lights before the kids get home this afternoon and start hounding me about coming over,” she went on.
    He wanted to tell her again that he didn’t need or want any more holiday cheer. The little colored wreath was more than enough. He really didn’t have anything against Christmas. When he was a kid, he’d been no different from other boys, giddy with excitement from before Thanksgiving until December 26. Over the years, that excitement had started to fade, then to atrophy and then finally to seep away.
    Christmas for law enforcement officers invariably meant domestic disputes, when every emotion was heightened, every family problem exacerbated.
    â€œAre you still okay with them coming over?” Andie said when he