Chapter 12- Investigation

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       When his eyes cracked open, Preston saw sunlight streaming through the lacy, white curtain on the window. A smile parted his lips as he thought about the late night spent with Darcy. After learning more about her, he felt himself falling harder for her. He remembered the way she lifted her fingers to her cheek after he kissed her, and his heart quickened its pace. He sighed. Maybe Laura was right...maybe felonies can be romantic.

The spicy scent of cinnamon finally coaxed him out of bed. Donning a pair of jeans and a burgundy sweater, he stepped into the hallway and breathed in the inviting aroma.

A creaking noise caught his attention, and he looked down the hall to find Darcy emerging from her room. Her auburn curls cascaded halfway down her back. She wore a pair of jeans and a blue, cowl neck sweater. He couldn't tell if she was wearing make-up or not, but she didn't need it. She was the most beautiful woman in the world to him, and for a moment he stood and admired her without saying a word. When she turned her sparkling blue eyes on him, his mouth went dry and a thin layer of moisture coated his palms.

"Good morning, Boopy," she smiled. "How did you sleep?"

"Pretty good," he smiled back and rubbed his sweaty hands against his jeans.

A look of mock disappointment clouded her twinkling eyes. "You mean you don't have a stupid nickname for me this morning? And here I worked so hard to come up with 'Boopy'." The wide smile dancing on her lips crinkled her eyes at the corners, and he glanced up hoping to spot a spring of mistletoe above them, but sadly the ceiling was bare.

"It's a good one," he took her hand and they walked together down the stairs. "I'm not sure I can beat it this early in the morning."

"You do realize it's nearly noon?" Darcy playfully swung their clasped hands.

"Did you still want to do some investigating at the library today?"

"Of course!" They walked into the kitchen and found the source of the wonderful smell. A plate of cinnamon rolls sat on the counter, and a note in Gammy's shaky handwriting let them know the rest of the family was downtown getting ready for the Christmas festival.

Grabbing a couple of paper towels, Preston picked up a cinnamon roll for each of them and set them on the dining room table. After eating what could either be considered a late breakfast or an early lunch, they put on their coats and began the short, snowy walk into town.

"So what's this Christmas festival all about?" He turned to Darcy who was adjusting the glove on her hand.

"Oh, it's an annual tradition around here." Once she finished fiddling with the fingers of her glove, she smiled up at him. "There is a craft show, a dinner, and a dance. The money raised from the meal and craft sales goes to the local children's home. That's the only way those poor kids get any Christmas presents."

"That sounds like fun," He took her mittened hand in his. "Would you go with me...as my date?"

"Absolutely," she squeezed his hand. "I wouldn't want to go with anybody else." When her words sunk in, they stole all the chill from the air and replaced it with a glowing warmth.

"And you'll dance with me?"

"You already know I'm a terrible dancer," she giggled. "But if that's what you want, then I would love to dance with you."

"You're not terrible."

"Are you kidding? I have no moves whatsoever," she laughed. "It's like a whole body dry heave."

"I think it's adorable," he smiled as a hint of red rushed into her cheeks.

When they reached the library, they entered the nearly silent building. Only the sounds of intermittent typing and hushed voices could be heard. The interior looked like it hadn't been updated since the early 70s. Wood paneling covered the walls, and a ratty, commercial grade orange and brown speckled carpet clung to the floor for dear life. The heater must have been cranked full blast for the benefit of the elderly librarian behind the front counter. Deep wrinkles around her lips proved she was accustomed to shushing generations of small-town residents.

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