PERFECT Read Free Page B

long, auburn waves. Her leather coat shifted up on
her hips to her trim waist as she laced her arms around Tom’s stump of a neck, offering
Dylan a nice view of her heart-shaped rear end encased in designer jeans. She
stood on tiptoe to peck Tom’s cheek, leaving a nice full mark of wine-colored
lipstick behind.
    “I finally
convinced you to visit,” Tom cooed, smiling down at her.
    “You’re the only
one I’d drive through hell freezing over to see.” She pinched the man’s cheek
with long fingers without a bit of nail polish. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.
I’ve missed you,” she purred in a southern accent that made Dylan’s male
hormones spike even higher.
    Tom’s blue eyes
twinkled like old St. Nick pictured in Katy’s Christmas storybook.
    Dylan wondered
when and how the pair had met. If he’d seen this girl in Black Moose Ridge
before, he surely would have noticed her.
    “I’m glad you
listened to me,” Tom said, lifting her up against his barrel chest again. She
looked like an oversized rag doll in the man’s embrace. “It’s been way too
long.”
    “I agree. A year
is way too long.” She struggled to touch her leather-clad toes to the plank
floor.
    Okay, so their
relationship was long distance. That would explain why he’d never seen her
before. Still, Angleman never mentioned her. They’d been friends for over five
years, ever since Tom moved to the mountain, bought the oldest structure in the
small village and began work on The Lone Grist Mill restaurant.
    “Ah, hum.” Dylan
coughed, tired of being the proverbial third wheel during the joyous reunion.
    Tom’s grin wilted
only to a respectful level as the petite woman slid to the floor. “Sorry,
buddy. Darcy, this is my friend Dylan Kincaid. Dylan, Darcy Witherspoon.”
    A name like that
sounded like a lot of very old money, and, again, he wondered where the two had
met and what they had in common. Angleman was a working stiff—a self-made man.
    She straightened
her sweater under her jacket. Then she righted her leather coat over her full
breasts and the scarf draping her neck, before pulling off her leather gloves
and offering her right hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kincaid.”
    There was strength
behind the softness of her grip. “Dylan. Call me Dylan.”
    She batted long
lashes at him and smiled, tilting her head ever so slightly, like she was shy.
Scarlet O’Hara had nothing over Darcy.
    “All right,
Dylan.”
    He could get use
to her saying his name real quick.
    “And you do the same.
You may call me Darcy. Miss Witherspoon is my sister. And I’m not her by long
shot.”
    Her hand was as
soft as Jillian’s and Katy’s and he wondered if she lived the life similar to
Scarlett’s, before the Civil War.
    “So how do you
know this guy?” He poked his free thumb toward Tom.
    “We went to Le
Culinary of America together.” Angleman dropped an arm over her shoulders,
anchoring her against him and caused her hand to yank from Dylan’s grasp. Tom
smiled down at her. “Darcy graduated top of our class. She’s an awesome chef.”
    Her cheeks,
already pink from the temperatures outside, brighten a bit. “You almost toppled
me with your desserts.”
    She wrapped an arm
around Angleman’s backside—at least as far as she could. Tom wasn’t fat, but he
wasn’t small and she looked like a dwarf standing next to the mountain-sized
man.
    “Ah, but I
didn’t.” Tom pecked her head. “And we’ve been best friends ever since.”
    It was clear Tom
was marking his territory. “Ah, that’s the connection. I didn’t think a guy
like him could attract a woman like you.”
    Her brow arched
up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Angleman squeezed
her. “He’s just stating what’s obvious. I’m a hulk and look at you.” He twirled
her. “You’re hot.”
    “You’re just
trying to make me feel better.” She laughed and hugged Tom. Her eyes closed
momently and Dylan noted their long length resting against her