Dancing in Lake Mistletoe (Lake Mistletoe #4)

Chapter Ten

Dutch

T he four of us fall into easy conversation as we watch the children play. Keller and Willa happen by with Beckham in his Peter Rabbit costume, and Mindi and Sela fawn all over the tiny tot, who is wide-eyed and taking in all the lights and people.

“Hoyt wants to get started right after church tomorrow,” Keller reminds me.

Hoyt owns the hardware store on Main Street and also happens to be our town’s mayor.

Halloween ends with the fall festival in Lake Mistletoe, and then Christmas begins. Thanksgiving is nestled in between, but we celebrate our gratefulness with a side of holly and jolly around here.

“I’ll be ready. When does the tree arrive?” I ask.

“Tuesday morning.”

I give a low whistle. “Are you guys going to be finished with the stand?”

He nods. “The top coat is curing now. We just need a few trucks and a lot of extra hands to get it assembled.”

“Count my truck and these two hands in.”

Hoyt’s voice comes over the intercom system to announce the winner of this year’s pumpkin carving contest, which took place earlier today. My and Josie’s Peanuts entry is awarded second place, being outdone by Keller’s oldest sister, Donna, and her brood, who created a jaw-dropping scene from How to Train Your Dragon . Josie doesn’t seem to mind coming in second and is thrilled with her ribbon and prize bag from the mercantile.

My parents, who’ve been helping Earl run the hayrides around the lake, find us. I stand to give Mom a hug, and her eyes fall to Mindi, who is seated beside me.

“Mom, this is Mindi. She’s a guest at the Gingerbread Inn,” I say.

“Oh, yes, I know. Trudy and Trixie told me all about you,” Mom says as she takes a seat next to Mindi.

That figures.

“I’m Dutch’s mother, Lydia, and that handsome old geezer over there is my husband, Gene. Dutch gets his good looks and work ethic from him, but his sense of humor and glowing personality from me,” she tells Mindi.

Josie joins Mom, Mindi, and Sela to show her proud Nana her red ribbon, and the four chat as Dad and I make plans to meet Keller and Bob at town hall in the morning. My eyes keep flitting to Mindi, who seems to be effortlessly handling getting caught up in all of this. It’s like she’s a part of us. Which is weird, as she’s practically a stranger.

Once plans are in place, Dad reaches out to help Mom up. “Come along, sweetheart. Let’s get these little ones home,” he says.

Josie is staying the night with them, so I can get up bright and early to meet the fellas for a long day’s work. Earlier in the day, they talked Mom into letting Cobie stay as well, and Isaac, Sela, and I planned to grab food and drinks at the Irish pub downtown. The owner and his wife lived in Hailey, but had a vacation rental here in Lake Mistletoe for years. When she retired from her teaching position, they sold their home in Hailey and moved to town permanently and opened the pub last year, which has been a hit with the locals.

Josie runs over and gives me her prize to take home.

“You be good for Nana, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I love you to Venus,” I tell her as I kiss her cheek.

“I love you to Mars,” she says before taking my dad’s hand.

Mom takes ahold of Cobie, and I watch as they weave their way through the crowd toward my parents’ lakeside house.

“We’re heading to The Thistle & Shamrock for dinner. You should join us,” I overhear Sela say to Mindi, inviting her out.

She looks up at me in question.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“I could eat,” she replies.

The pub is warm and buzzing with life. A welcoming place, filled with the scent of wood, leather, and something sizzling in the kitchen. It’s dimly lit with candles casting a glow on the rustic tables and chairs, and the walls are covered with vintage Irish signs and clover-green paint. Isaac and I like to meet here to unwind when Sela is occupied with town business.

The hostess seats us at a large booth tucked into a corner. Mindi and Sela slide in close to the window that looks out on Main Street.

“This is cozy,” Sela says with a grin, eyes darting between me and Mindi with a not-so-subtle, expectant smile.

Mindi agrees, and I can feel the tension slip from my shoulders as I slide into the booth beside her. Isaac scoots over, flashing a smirk as he shakes his head. His eyes flicker over to Sela, and I know he’s onto her scheming as well.

The waiter swings by to take our drink orders, and both Isaac and I order a stout.

She looks over the menu, and both she and Sela settle on a cider.

Sela clears her throat. “So, Mindi, you know Dutch is basically the resident troublemaker in Lake Mistletoe, right?” She shoots me a smirk, and I’m already bracing myself. “He might seem all calm and put together, but there was a time—”

“Oh, no,” I cut in, holding up a hand. “Let’s not drag her into the sordid details.”

But Sela, being Sela, is relentless. She launches into stories about how she had a major crush on me when we were kids, but how I ignored her puppy love. Then moves on to tales of when Bran and I were wild boys, making it sound like I was nothing but a rebel. I sneak a glance at Mindi, and she’s laughing, eyes bright.

“Who knew you had a dark side?” Mindi teases, nudging me with her shoulder.

“Oh, there’s a lot to know about Dutch,” Sela chimes in, casting me a look that borders on smug. She’s clearly enjoying herself tonight. “He’s all quiet and brooding, but once you get him talking, he’s practically an open book.”

I catch Mindi’s eye again and shrug.

“Depends on the person,” I say, looking right at her. Her expression softens, and I don’t miss the flicker of something—interest, curiosity?—in her eyes.

The drinks arrive, and I’m grateful for the distraction as we order food.

“This is yummy,” Mindi says as she sips her cider. “How’s yours?”

I slide the mug over to her. “Try it.”

She wraps her hand around the handle of the frosty mug and brings it to her lips. She takes a long pull and then sets it back on the table. The head of the beer circles her mouth.

I lift my hand. “You have a little something,” I begin.

She dips her head as her tongue darts out to lick the creamy froth from her lips. And the action causes my words to catch in my throat.

She grabs her napkin and dabs at her mouth.

“Well?” I ask, quirking a brow.

“I’m not usually a beer drinker. Wine’s usually my beverage of choice, but it’s good. Like black coffee or dark chocolate,” she says.

“Exactly.”

The server returns with our dishes. I dig into my bangers and mash, savoring the savory flavors, while Mindi’s fork dips into her shepherd’s pie. For a few minutes, everyone’s focused on their food, and the laughter and conversation around us fill the silence.

“So, Mindi,” Sela—never one to stay silent long—says, “what do you do for fun when you’re not working?”

I glance at Mindi, curious to hear her answer.

“I have a lot of downtime between work and rehearsals, but I enjoy yoga, and I like pottery,” she says. “There’s a studio around the corner from my apartment, and I’ve taken some lessons from the owner. There’s something relaxing about sitting at a wheel, working a lump of clay.”

“So, you’re artistic. That’s something you and Dutch here have in common.”

I shake my head. “Let’s not exaggerate, Sela.”

Mindi glances at me, her interest piqued. “You’re into art?” Her voice is soft, and there’s a hint of surprise there, like she didn’t expect that side of me.

“I wouldn’t say into exactly,” I say, feeling a little sheepish. “I do a little leatherworking. Belts and wallets mainly.”

“He’s made a couple of journal covers for me, and he made some gorgeous messenger bags that Lydia sold in her dress shop. Oh, and the saddlebags you made for your dad. Oh, you should make Mindi a dance bag.”

Isaac tries to hide his laugh with a cough, but he’s no help, and Sela’s suggestion hangs in the air between us. I look at Mindi, and she’s biting her bottom lip, trying to stifle a smile.

“I don’t think my work is up to Mindi’s professional quality,” I say, giving Sela a pointed look.

She tilts her head. “You’re better than you think.”

The conversation drifts back to familiar territory—old stories, inside jokes, plans for the weekend. And each time my arm or leg brushes against Mindi’s under the table, it feels deliberate. Like my body instinctively wants to touch hers. And each time our gazes meet, there’s a spark that feels impossible to ignore.

Eventually, Sela leans back, finishing her cider, and gives me a look that feels like both encouragement and a warning, as if saying, Don’t let this one slip away, Dutch.

I give her a small nod.

After we’ve finished eating and the plates are cleared, the four of us sit there, lingering over our drinks. I’m half-tempted to find an excuse to ask Mindi to stick around once Isaac and Sela leave, but before I can say anything, Mindi turns to me, and her gaze is steady and warm.

“I like your friends,” she says, her voice just loud enough for me to hear over the pub’s noise. “They’re … fun.”

“Yeah, they are,” I reply. “They like you too. I can tell.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Or are they just being nice?”

“They’re not nice just for the sake of being nice,” I say with a grin. “Trust me, if they didn’t like you, they’d have made it obvious.”

We share a laugh, and something shifts between us, an easy familiarity. Sela and Isaac finally call it a night, and as we say our good-byes, I’m left standing outside the pub with Mindi, the crisp night air sharp against my skin.

She shivers, rubbing her arms, and I have to resist the urge to pull her close.

“Cold?” I ask, and she nods, glancing up at me with a soft smile.

We linger there, not quite ready to say good night.

“So, you want to have another drink?” I ask.

She holds my gaze. “I’d love to.”