Handsome, too, not that she was supposed to be looking. Handsome and shy, she decided, when he glanced up at her and immediately turned bright red again. She’d seen him around town and had probably met him before, but had never realized he was Libby’s uncle. She was bad with faces, which was why she had the clipboard. Both he and Libby looked entirely at ease together, so Amy pulled out her phone and texted Becca Watson—Mr. Watson’s recently married bride and Libby’s stepmother.

AMY: Hi Becca, this is Amy. A man named Caleb is here to pick Libby up and says Hank has a lame horse? Does this sound legit to you?

Linda cleared her throat, sidling in next to Amy. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Amy looked over at her, forcing an apologetic smile to her face. “I didn’t catch it.”

“I asked if you had a boyfriend. We need a Santa Claus to go with our Mrs. Claus.” Linda’s expression was avid.

Amy tried not to flinch. Being that it was a small town, relationship stuff came up a lot. “No. I’m sorry, I’m divorced.”

Her phone pinged and Amy quickly glanced down at the text.

BECCA: Caleb is totally fine. Do you need a description? Big bearded guy, stumbles over his words. Looks like a shy Hank. Or I can come get her. Let me know.

She smiled down at her phone and glanced up at Caleb and Libby. The man was watching her with those dark eyes, his expression unreadable. For some reason, it made her feel a little flustered and shy herself. “You’re good to go, Mr. Watson. Thank you for waiting.”

He nodded in a jerky way. “Libby’s mine . . . ah, my pleasure.” He coughed and then slowly closed his eyes again.

She bit the inside of her cheek not to laugh. “Stumbles over his words” was right.

Amy started to text Becca back when Linda nudged her, continuing to talk about the Christmas Carnival. “Do you know of anyone that can do it? Curtis is running the popcorn machine and Jimmy said he’d be in charge of the midway. Terry dressed up last year, but his wife is insisting that we find someone else. She thinks he’s flirting with the elves.” Linda tittered at her joke, missing Amy’s horrified expression.

The last thing she wanted was to cause problems in someone’s marriage. She knew how that felt. “Maybe I shouldn’t be Mrs. Claus, then—”

“Me.”

Both of the women looked up at the same time.

The cowboy stood up next to Libby’s desk, his face flushed. His hat was practically crushed in his big hand as he spoke. “I’ll do Mrs. Claus.”

“You mean you’ll be Mister Claus,” Libby called out, giggling.