They passed another sign, and Riley’s nerves tightened a fraction. She hoped Dalton wasn’t taking her where she suspected he was taking her. There were a dozen restaurants along this highway, but possibilities were running thin.
“What do you have planned?” she asked. “You’re smiling like a cat with a mouse.”
He chuckled. “I told you, it’s a surprise. We’re almost there. I couldn’t believe it when I heard you hadn’t been there yet.”
“Been where? Heard from whom?”
“I overheard a little birdie in the staff room. Apparently, I’m not the only one who wants to get you out of our little town.”
The only other staff member she knew who might want to take her anywhere was Yvette. And the only place Yvette had mentioned wanting to take her was Leavenworth, the quaint little Bavarian town hailed as Central Washington’s premier tourist and honeymoon destination.
And the Christmas capitol of the entire Northwest.
Maybe Riley should have been talking to Dalton the way she’d been talking to Mark.
They passed Peshastin on the right, her last hope for any dining possibilities this side of the Cascade Mountains other than Leavenworth or Steven’s Pass ski resort.
“Are we going skiing? I would have worn something warmer.”
Dalton laughed again. “No skiing. And you look amazing. I told you that, right?”
“You did.” She wrung her hands together. “You know, Dalton, I have this sort-of phobia—”
“Of skiing? Because trust me, that’s not on the menu.”
“No, not skiing. It’s just—”
“I hope it’s not lederhosen.” He laughed, and she smiled weakly. He leaned toward her. “I promise you’ll be very safe. Anyhow, close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close your eyes. Part of the surprise package.”
“I’m not sure I—”
“I’ve practically given it away so just give me this. No peeking.”
She closed her eyes. “You’re not going to strap on a pair of lederhosen, are you?”
“You’re cracking me up, Mads. Trust me. It’s a good thing the rain cleared up. I want you to get the whole effect.”
Oh, she was getting the whole something. Mads? She couldn’t help thinking she preferred it when Dalton had other people around to talk to.
Riley concentrated on her breathing. She had a few more weeks until the big tree-lighting everyone talked about. She wasn’t scared of Christmas. Just the emotions it induced. Dalton didn’t know that, and he was obviously looking forward to introducing her to this town.
The car slowed, and after a couple of turns, Dalton cut the engine.
“Keep your eyes closed. I’ll be right there. Don’t move.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” she said. She waited, anticipating the click of her door as it was pulled open. She shivered at the hit of crisp air. Dalton took her hand and made sure she didn’t bump her head as she exited. True to her word, she kept her eyes shut.
“Okay, follow me. Just a few more steps, I promise I won’t let you fall.”
The air was filled with sound: music in the distance, the swoosh of slow cars driving past, the mottled hum of people in conversation as they walked, nearby and farther away. She peeked at her shoes to keep from having to cling to Dalton’s arm. About ten steps later, they stopped.
“Here’s a good spot. Perfect.” She felt Dalton move behind her, placing his hands on her arms. “Welcome to Leavenworth, Riley.”
She told herself this was a small thing, that surely she could look down a street. Something did smell delicious. Not one thing but a hundred delicious things hanging in the air.
“How this works is,” he said gently, “you open your eyes.”
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
The world stirred into motion, like the beginning of a merry-go-round ride. They stood at the top of a long street. Two- and three-story Bavarian-style buildings that looked like something out of a storybook graced both sides, all lit up with Christmas lights, and exquisite tole-painted murals peeked from above doors, beneath window boxes, and between dark-hewn beams. People bundled together wearing red scarves and floppy knit hats. Jingle bells—no kidding, jingle bells—rang out in all directions.
“Holy crap,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry, what?” Dalton asked, leaning closer.
“Um, it’s astonishing.”
“Isn’t it?” he said, obviously pleased.
She took a deep breath and blew it out as he took her hand and led her to the far side of the street. Wreaths and swags and twig reindeer and old-world Santas met them at every step, yet none of it was gaudy or overdone or even overcommercialized. Somehow, Leavenworth had managed to capture the celebration of Christmas . . . and any normal person would find it wonderful in the true sense of the word.
“Our reservation isn’t for another half-hour, so I thought we could walk first. Do you mind?” Dalton was suddenly looking at her like he’d actually consider her answer instead of talking over it.
The gears in her head clicked. “Let’s walk now. Work up an appetite.”
He smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.” He took her hand again and led her farther along the avenue. They crossed the street, and her focus lifted to a gigantic pine.
“That’s the Christmas tree,” he offered. “The big lighting is in a couple weeks.”
“It’s huge.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it? A whole day of festivities, and then they set off fireworks. Sounds fun, huh?”
“Mmm,” she replied, banishing the unbidden image of Mark passing out candy canes to everyone.
Trees grew along the edge of a small park, complete with a gazebo framed in white twinkle lights. The gazebo glowed from within and—she realized as they approached—sheltered an oompah band, the musicians wearing embroidered vests, lederhosen, and felt hats. To the side, waiting his turn, a man stood poised in front of an exceedingly long horn.
“An alpenhorn?” she asked Dalton, leaning into him over the sound of the band.
“I’m impressed. Listen.”
They waited a little longer, and then the man braced his feet on either side of the horn, which balanced on its own small stand on the ground. He took a deep breath, then blew into the horn, the melody traveling from his lips to the crowd with a rich, deep sound.
People clapped as the
