“Cut the crap, Freddie. I meant everything I’ve said tonight, and a few things I didn’t say.”

“Is that the end of your sermon, Sheriff?” Freddie sneered, though he made no move to pull his arm free.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eli saw Fred, Sr., take a step toward him.

Instinctively, he sent Freddie hurtling into his father, and they both staggered, nearly losing their footing.

Festus was barking again, leaping anxiously back and forth between the passenger and driver’s seats.

Eli glanced back over one shoulder, saw the pit bulls bounding toward him, tongues lolling.

He yanked open the driver’s side door and climbed inside, just as the dogs arrived. One slammed into the windshield, Cujo-style, while the other struck the door Eli had just slammed.

Festus went berserk, snarling and trying to squeeze himself through the six inches of open window available to him on the passenger side.

Eli pulled him back by his collar and buzzed the window shut.

Fred, Sr., and his spawn were all but doubled over, laughing, and Gretchen stood on the porch, a small figure.

Had the dogs simply gotten past her when she opened the front door, or had she deliberately turned them loose?

No telling.

Eli started the SUV, honked the horn cheerfully and drove slowly away from the whole scene.

He’d made his point.

If the Lansings wanted to think they’d scared him off, let them.

He’d be back the day after tomorrow, when the courthouse had reopened for business, with a restraining order.

BRYNNE KICKED OFF her fancy high heels at a quarter to twelve, and perched herself on the one vacant stool at the counter, clapping along with the crowd as Carly finished a particularly sweet song, one of her own composition, all about winter weather and sunlight on snow.

The lyrics made Brynne think of the time she’d spent with Eli a few days before, onboard his magic carpet of a snowmobile, and her heart quickened at the memory.

Her gaze strayed to the door, for the thousandth time.

No Eli.

Inwardly, Brynne sighed, though she didn’t let her smile slip.

Her customers had paid for a cheerful evening and they were going to get one.

The crowd had thinned considerably over the last couple of hours as people left to see the New Year in at home, or simply to go to bed. Those who remained were waiting for the traditional song and the official arrival of midnight, complete with kisses and confetti and noisemakers.

It was ironic, Brynne reflected, that with all these people around, she would essentially be celebrating alone when one calendar year ended and another began.

Well, what else was new? She’d been on her own since the breakup with Clay. Nobody to kiss under the mistletoe at Christmas. Nobody to kiss tonight at the stroke of midnight.