And I love her too.

Nicole had definitely heard Boone say that after he’d opened his parents’ front door.

She had no idea what to do with the words, and she didn’t dare ask him about them. They’d started talking about getting married, and she should’ve known his feelings for her were that strong.

It was just so…unbelievable.

She sighed and clicked to another website, having spent a couple of hours on the Internet that morning already, as Boone spent Wednesdays out at the ranch. Joanne did vaccinations and handled the pet daycare, leaving Nicole in peace.

She couldn’t figure out why the Whitby’s cared what was happening within the walls at Puppy Pawz. Penelope had grown up here and worked at the clinic under Dr. Von. She’d made several comments to clients that upset them, and the vet had asked her to leave.

She had. No questions. No fuss. She really wasn’t a people person, and the receptionist job hadn’t been a good fit for her. She’s married Louis later that year, and they’d moved further south.

They were apparently back in Three Rivers, and had been for about five months. According to what Nicole could learn, her husband didn’t have a job and neither did Penny.

Nicole sat back and looked at her notes. “Maybe she wants to drive Boone out of town,” she said. “Then her husband can buy the clinic.”

It was the best she had, and she texted the information and her speculations to Boone before lunch. He didn’t respond until evening, when she was walking into the church for choir practice.

Thanks, sweetheart. See you after choir?

Sure, she sent, instantly warm at his term of endearment, and stuffed her phone in her purse. With only a few weeks until Christmas, Nicole was going to have to figure out how to sing in front of people.

Brother Myron had been very kind, saying things like, “This is where Nicole will sing her solo,” and moving on during practices. She didn’t mind singing with the thirty or so members in the choir, but she didn’t want to belt out a tune in front of them.

And when there were people sitting in the pews? Nicole shivered just thinking about it.

Every song in her head in the mornings were the Christmas tunes she’d be singing during the program. She did practice her parts—at home, without spectators.

She just needed to find the courage to open her mouth and sing when it was the right time.

“Let’s go over Joy to the World,” Brother Myron said after they’d said an opening prayer for the practice. He faced her. “Nicole, are you ready to sing for us?”

He asked her this every week, and all she had to do was shake her head yes or no. Everyone looked at her, and she glanced down the row at them. “I’ll try,” she said, feeling stronger and more brave than she ever had.

Brother Myron grinned and he indicated the pianist should begin playing. She wasn’t singing her solo until the third verse, and she didn’t open her mouth to sing during the first two either.

She just let the spirit of the song flow through her, her stomach growing more and more cramped as her time to sing approached.

When the moment arrived, Nicole opened her mouth and sang. It wasn’t very good, and there was no way anyone past the third row would be able to hear her, but she did it.

Brother Myron grinned like she’d just solved world peace and when the song ended, he engulfed her in a giant hug. “That was great, Nicole,” he said. “Maybe just a little louder next time.”

He moved seamlessly onto the next song, and Nicole appreciated the beefy older gentleman more than she ever had. She looked at the woman standing next to her, and Andy patted her hand. “Good job, Nicole.”

But Nicole knew it was not a good job. Not worthy of being a soloist, and Andy definitely knew it too.

She didn’t sing again during the practice, and when she got home, she didn’t call Boone either.

Maybe you like being overlooked, she thought as she heated something to eat in the microwave. And she had no argument for that.

Christmas approached no matter what Nicole did. She attended every choir practice; knew all the songs by heart; woke with more than one song in her head for the day because of how often she thought about the Christmas program.

Boone assured her and reassured her that the town of Three Rivers wouldn’t know what hit it once the Christmas program ended, and he’d even suggested she try to get Mama to come to the service. “At least for ten minutes,” he said.

Nicole hadn’t known how that was possible, but Boone worked everything out with her dad, and Mama was coming.

Nicole had been toying with the idea of inviting her siblings. At least the two who lived in the continental United States. In the end, she didn’t, still not sure why forgiving them seemed to be taking so long.

“You ready?” Boone asked as she entered her office the Friday before the performance. He’d arrived ahead of her at Puppy Pawz and was already coated up for the day.

“Are you ready for the marathon?” She glared at him until he stood from her chair behind the desk.

“Okay, so we’re not in a good mood this morning.” He nudged the coffee he brought for her every morning. “We’ll talk after you’re properly caffeinated.” He left in a hurry, and Nicole didn’t blame him. She sipped the coffee, but it made her already boiling stomach worse. What had she been thinking? How could she possibly get up in front of everyone and sing?

Singing for Boone had been horrible, every nerve standing at attention. When she’d first started practicing with the choir, she’d almost thrown up beforehand. The only reason she hadn’t was because Brother Myron had found her in the parking lot and told her she didn’t have to sing during practices if she didn’t want to.

But now….

You have to sing, she thought.

“I can’t do it.” She reached for her phone, an overwhelming desire to leave town and never come back surging through her. She had Pastor Scott dialed before her brain kicked against her panic. She hung up, her palms slick and her pulse ragged.

Somehow, the day passed. Saturday too. Sunday came, and she stood in her house, fingering the navy blue choir robes she’d wear in just a few short hours. She’d confessed all her fears to Boone, and he’d comforted her for at least the fiftieth time. He must be so sick of her by now, and Nicole couldn’t wait until the Christmas program was over.

She only hoped her relationship wouldn’t be.

Over the months, Boone had taken to sitting with her on the third row, and today was no different. She arrived only moments before the service began and slid onto the bench next to him.

“Didn’t think you were coming,” he said.

“I almost didn’t.”

“I called you three times. I was about to drive over and get you myself.”

“Been out walking.”

He peered at her, ultimate concern on his face. “Isn’t it raining?”

“Not much.” She stared straight forward, her stomach so tight and not getting any looser. The walk hadn’t helped. Eating hadn’t helped. Getting Mama ready to leave the house hadn’t helped.

Even sitting next to Boone wasn’t helping. The service started and Pastor Scott said a few things after the opening prayer. Then the dreaded words, “We’ll now turn the rest of our time over to the choir for their musical performance to represent the birth of the Savior,” were said, and the other choir members rose from the congregation.

Nicole couldn’t seem to get her feet moving before Andy paused at the end of the aisle and stared at her pointedly. Nicole got up. Got herself to the choir chairs and in position next to Andy. She even managed a tight smile at the woman, who patted her arm and gave her a reassuring smile.

But Nicole didn’t want to be touched right now. She almost yanked her arm away. The band started and the choir belted out its first song. Nicole mouthed along to Joy to the World, wishing she could find the Christmas spirit to help her through the next forty-five minutes.

The third verse came. Her time to sing. She stood there mute. The congregation blurred—all except one face.

Boone’s face.

He watched her intently, his eyes hopeful but his mouth tense. The band cycled through the intro again, and still Nicole couldn’t seem to emit much more than a squeak. Horror poured through her and her stomach clenched tight, tighter, tightest.

She looked away from Boone, his presence completely unnerving her. On the third attempt, Nicole managed to get out the words, but the pitch was all over the place. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Boone making his way toward the choir seats.

She warned him back with a daggered glare, but he kept on coming. He sidled next to her but wisely didn’t touch her. Her hands started to shake and her voice matched them. The vibrato sounded terrible; the notes were all wrong. But she managed to finish the song.

Tears streamed down her face, and she turned away from Boone, though he was the closest escape. She pushed past the other choir members, ignoring Brother Myron’s protests, and fled from the chapel, every eye focused on her.

She didn’t hide out in the bathroom. She ran all the way to her car, her navy robes billowing behind her as her heels clicked against the blacktop.

“Nicole!” Boone called from behind her, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. She locked her car doors, jammed the key in the ignition, and tore out of the parking lot. Her eyes met Boone’s for just a moment, but it was long enough to see his disappointment.

She cried as she set the sedan on the stretch of highway that would take her to Amarillo. She could do this drive; she’d done it before.

Interfere. Boone had interfered.

Overbearing. He could be overbearing, what with inviting her mother to watch Nicole’s most embarrassing failure.

With every mile her tires ate, Nicole grew angrier and angrier. With herself. With God.

And with Boone Carver.