A shy soul and an adventurous heart. As the holidays approach, can they find happiness together?
Maria Anne Davis was on her way to an exciting career as a chef in Dallas, until a terrible car accident left her blind. Ever resilient, Maria has reinvented her life on her own terms, starting a business out of her home kitchen, selling her jams and jellies to the local grocery.
Maria loves romance novels, and despite her bold spirit, she fears sheâll never have a big love affair like ones her heroines experience. That is, until she realizes how much she cares about the quiet Wes Whitman, the owner of the grocery.
Wes canât keep Mariaâs wildly popular jam on his shelvesâjust like he canât keep the fierce, beautiful Maria out of his thoughts. But how could a firecracker like Maria come to love a shy, nervous man like him? Maybe all they need is a grand affair. Wes needs to convince Maria that some affairs last forever, thoughâjust in time for Christmas.
CHAPTER ONE
TRAVIS FULLER TURNED UP the collar on his jean jacket and tried to slide farther down into the backseat of the sheriffâs cruiser. He hated the way cop cars always smelled of vomit and stale coffee. He hated cold days. He hated little towns and he hated the deputy who picked him up from the Lubbock airport like he was a rescue dog going to a new home.
Hell, he thought, if he ever reached his sixteenth birthday, heâd probably hate being on his own, too. Heâd learned a long time ago that the next place was usually worse than the last, and Crossroads, Texas, looked to be touching the bottom of the barrel.
Travis had made up his mind when he was seven that as soon as he turned sixteen, heâd run away and never look back. He couldnât do a worse job of raising himself than his parents had. Both were drunks. His mother was mean and his father was stupid. Their last fight ended with her in the hospital and him in jail.
âAnd me?â he mumbled. âI have to go to hell in Texas just because Iâm their offspring.â
The deputy turned his radio down and glanced back. âYou all right, kid?â
âIâm not a kid. Iâm almost sixteen.â
âRight,â the deputy said with a laugh. âWell, Mr. Fuller, welcome to Crossroads. Looks like youâll be staying with us for a while. Youâll love it here. The three uncles youâre bunking with are real nice guys. One was a teacher for almost forty years, one is still working as a real cowboy, and the third one, Horace Fuller, no one knows what he did for a living but he always paid his bills. Heâs sort of the town hermit, and thatâs not an easy title to have in a small town.â
âThey are not my uncles,â Travis grumbled.
âOh, right. Great-uncles. Longevity must run in your family. Iâm guessing all three are past their seventieth birthday.â
âI donât care. Not one of them had any kids or a wife so Iâm guessing they are not long on social skills.â
Deputy Cline didnât argue, but added, âTheyâve been fixing up a place at Horaceâs for you to stay. Up high, almost like a tree house. I wouldnât be surprised if you can see the lights of town from there.â
âGreat. Another cage.â Travis looked out the window as the deputy pulled off the highway. The town was all brown and deserted in the winter morning light. Most of the buildings were built square and low to the ground.
âYou ever had an architect live here?â Travis frowned.
âNope. Not that I know of.â
âI could have guessed that. Frank Lloyd Wright would have a heart attack here.â Travis could spend hours looking at Wrightâs work in the books at libraries. To him the buildings were art, every one a masterpiece.
âWright? Heâs that famous architect who built all those strange buildings?â Deputy Cline chimed in, as if he thought he was on a game show. âIâve done carpentry work, but would have no idea where to start on something like his designs.â
âHe was a genius,â Travis mumbled, not really wanting to have a conversation with the deputy. Cline was so new at the job he didnât even know he wasnât supposed to talk to anyone riding in the backseat. Travis had had enough rides to know that rule.
As the cruiser circled round, Travis asked, more to change the subject than from interest, âWhatâs that, a barn for tumbleweeds?â He pointed to an open-air building on the land left when streets crossed in the center of town.