Just then a bell rang. Dena had everyone file out for afternoon recess, then turned back to him.

“That was so great,” she said. “Thank you. What a fantastic afternoon. You were a hit.”

He found himself less interested in what the kids had thought of him than how Dena felt about the lesson.

“It was appropriate for them?”

“They were mesmerized. Everyone learned something, even me.” She smiled. “I was supposed to be getting work done, but I couldn’t stop listening to you.” The smile widened. “It’s the famous rock star thing, huh?”

“Possibly.”

She held up the empty bakery boxes. “Even your food was a success. You did great.”

He unplugged the guitar and coiled the cord. “Thanks. I meant what I said—I was nervous about this.”

“You had no reason to be. So you’re in a live show?”

“A few days before Christmas.” He grimaced. “I agreed to it in a moment of weakness. I’ll fly down to LA, do the show, then come back here.” He looked at her. “I want to be in Wishing Tree for Christmas Day.”

“It’s a pretty fun day here. There’s a reindeer 5K run—runners wear antlers—and caroling and lots of other things going on. Small-town stuff, though.”

“I’m kind of enjoying small town stuff these days.”

Without thinking, he moved toward her. The door to the classroom was open, not that closing it would matter—there was a window. Although he had no idea why he was thinking about closing doors—unless he really did want to kiss her, which he thought maybe he did. He had a feeling Dena was a great kisser and that her mouth would feel good on his.

From that thought, it was a quick and easy journey to wondering how she would feel in his arms. Did she hold back a little or did she melt?

I was afraid to risk my heart. Again. Swore I could exist apart. Again.

The melody and words descended from nowhere. Micah froze in place, not wanting to lose either. They played again and again in his head, taunting him with the idea they could be something.

“I should get going,” he said, putting his guitars into their cases. “The kids will be in from recess soon, and I need to get back to my place and do some writing.” He tried to sound friendly as he spoke, rather than dismissive.

Dena stepped back, her smile tight. “Of course. Thank you again.”

He nodded and left, trying to hang on to the music in his head. I was fine. I was okay. I’d loved and lost—that’s just life’s way.

He jogged to his car with the guitars and did his best not to speed on his way back to the B and B. Once inside, he pulled out his guitar, started the recorder on his phone and began to play.