A Little Bit of Holiday Magic

by Melissa McClone

  “You were only seven. How would you know?”

  Bill shrugged.

  “Where was your dad?”

  “Away. He works in the petroleum industry. When he’s not on an oil platform in the Gulf, he’s in the Middle East. It’s been that way for as long as I remember,” Bill said. “If my dad spent more time here in Hood Hamlet, my mom could focus on him, not me.”

  “Is your dad old enough to retire?”

  “Nope. I’m going to have to suck it up until then.”

  “You’re a good son.”

  He had no choice. At times he appreciated everything his mom did for him. Other times he hated it. But what could he do? She was his mother. “I’m her only son. Any word from the claims adjustor?”

  Grace checked the oven and added two minutes to the timer. “I should hear something today. Thad says the body damage is fixable. But the engine isn’t.”

  “The snowbank took out the engine?”

  “The motor started sounding funny as soon as we crossed the Georgia state line. But I thought we’d make it.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Hear what the adjustor says first. The truck belonged to my husband, so I’d rather not get rid of it.”

  “Thad’s a great mechanic. He’ll take care of you and your pickup. I’m happy to do whatever I can.”

  Gratitude shone in her eyes. “Thanks so much. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome.” Bill wasn’t quite sure why he said the words. He hadn’t done anything. Not really. Giving her a place to stay wasn’t costing him anything. Playing with her kid was fun. Spending time with her was no hardship at all.

  He wished he could do...more.

  He wanted to wipe away the worry from her forehead. He wanted to erase the dark circles below her eyes. He wanted to kiss away the tightness around her mouth. He focused on her full lips. No colored lipstick, shiny gloss or plumper needed.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  Badly.

  His heart rate increased, accelerating like a snare drum roll. His temperature rose twenty degrees as he thought about his lips against hers. His gaze lingered on his target, waiting for a sign, an invitation.

  Look away, a voice cautioned.

  Bill didn’t. He couldn’t.

  Not when everything inside of him was screaming, Kiss her!

  Buzz-z-z.

  The oven timer blared.

  What the hell was he doing? Thinking?

  He looked away, stepped back, took a deep breath.

  This wasn’t only about kissing her. Something about Grace affected him at a much deeper level, in a way no other woman had. She had him thinking about meals together, kids. He didn’t like that.

  Liam ran to the table. “Breakfast!”

  Grace walked to the oven. “Yes, it’s time for breakfast.”

  For them, yes. Not Bill.

  She bent over to remove the pan from the oven, giving him a great view of her butt.

  Curvy. Sexy.

  Damn. Bill rubbed his hand over his chin. He needed to get out of here before he did something he would regret. Something he couldn’t take back. “Can you make mine to go?”

  Confusion clouded her eyes. “Sure.”

  Bill didn’t blame Grace for the uncertainty in her voice. He’d said yes to breakfast. He hadn’t stopped her from setting the table. But he couldn’t forget he wasn’t part of the Wilcox family. They weren’t part of his. “I’m supposed to go skiing with a friend from the station. I thought I’d have enough time....”

  “Not a problem.”

  Grace used an oven mitt and a hot pad to remove the casserole dish. She placed the baked French toast on the stove.

  Oh, man, that looked and smelled like heaven on earth. His stomach rumbled. Nothing like home cooking.

  She opened a cabinet. “I saw a plastic container in here somewhere.”

  He felt like a jerk for bolting on breakfast. “The cabinet on the left.”

  “Sit, Big Dude.” Liam sounded like a little prince with his command. “Eat.”

  Bill wanted to join the kid at the table. He wanted to spend the day with Liam and Grace, but couldn’t give in to temptation.

  He’d never experienced this soothing warmth flowing through his veins, this desire to cancel a day skiing and kick around at home. This wasn’t about getting naked and doing the horizontal mamba. That he understood. This was...different.

  Whatever was going on, sweet as it felt, had to end. Right now.

  Bill had everything he needed to be happy—friends, the mountain, powder and a cell phone contact list full of hot women’s numbers. No reason to let some kid, his mom and her home cooking change anything.

  Bill was going to stick to the way he did things.

  He was not going to mess up her life. Or his.

  “No can do, bud.” Bill went to ruffle the kid’s hair, but thought better of it. He pulled his hand back, plastered his arm against his side. “But I’ll be home later.”

  Much later.

  After he skied hard, the only thing he’d want to do was fall into bed.

  Alone.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  EARLY EVENING, BILL entered the Hood Hamlet Brewpub with Thomas and Welton. Their stomachs and throats demanded payment for a long day skiing. The booths and tables were full, so they snagged three stools at the bar. A perfect way to spend an evening—with beer, burgers and good friends.

  Multicolored lights from the garland hanging above them made the glossy wood surface look polka-dotted. Christmas carols played from overhead speakers. OMSAR friends—Sean and Zoe Hughes and Tim and Rita Moreno—were crammed into a booth near the fireplace.

  The bartender set three pints on the bar.

  Bill raised his beer, stared at the dark ale and creamy foam on top. “Nothing like one of Porter’s microbrews after a bluebird day on the mountain.”

  “You deserve a pint or two after hitting the slopes so hard today.” Welton lifted his pint. “Looked like you were trying to outrun an avalanche.”

  Thomas swiveled toward Bill, staring over the rim of her glass with a pointed look. “Or a woman.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shifted on the leather-covered bar stool. His muscles ached from making tracks and carving turns. A good feeling, like when he’d been home this morning.

  He shook the thought from his head, the way he’d been doing all day whenever Grace and her son crossed his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about her. She deserved a lot more than a guy like him could give. “Just enjoying the powder.”

  Thomas faced forward. “Mom alert.”

  Grace was here? Anticipation surged. Bill straightened, glanced over his shoulder.

  His mother was marching toward him with a fiery look in her eyes. The smiling snowman on her sweater emphasized how badly her lips were puckered. He doubted she’d been sucking lemons.

  That meant one thing.

  Dad had let her down. Again.

  Bill tightened his grasp on his glass.

  Only his father had that kind of effect on her. Dad must have called to say he wasn’t coming home for Christmas. So much for enjoying a little après-ski with his friends. But if his mom put out a distress call, he was the first responder. He couldn’t always fix her problems or meet her needs, but he could at least be there for her. Unlike his dad.

  Bill gulped the rest of his beer, set the empty glass on the bar, then turned around with his you’re-the-best-mom-ever smile. “Hey, Mom. What are you doing here?”

  She stood, arms crossed, as if she’d clocked him going ninety with a radar gun. A corner of her mouth twitched. “Is he yours?”

  “Huh?”

  “Liam.” Sh
e took a step closer and lowered her voice. “Is he your son?”

  The air whooshed from Bill’s lungs. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “Don’t swear.”

  “Don’t provoke me.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Liam looks like a younger you. Same coloring. Mannerisms.”

  “The kid is three. He looks like a lot of people.”

  Bill is the best daddy.

  He’d thought Liam’s words were sweet the other day. Now Bill forced himself to breathe, to loosen the tension knotting his insides. And tried not to admit how much he liked hearing those words. He’d be a crappy dad. He didn’t have a father to use as a role model. He wouldn’t know how to be a good dad.

  “He’s not mine.” Bill kept his voice even, his tone calm. Losing his cool with his mother would only make this worse. “Met the kid and his mom for the first time on Sunday night.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” Rumors spread faster than the norovirus in Hood Hamlet. Though he trusted Thomas and Welton, who were facing the bartender and pretending not to be eavesdropping, but no doubt listening. “Liam’s father was an Army Ranger killed in Afghanistan. A true American hero, named Damon Wilcox.”

  His mother started to speak, then stopped herself. “Grace is a widow?”

  Bill nodded.

  His mother wrung her hands.

  Dread shot down his spine like a snowboard without a leash on a steep, black diamond run. “Please tell me you didn’t mention this to Grace.”

  “I didn’t, but... Why didn’t you tell me about Grace and Liam?”

  Bill rubbed his chin. “Nothing to tell.”

  “She and her son are staying at your house.”

  “Temporarily.”

  “They’ve been there since Sunday.”

  “It’s only Wednesday.”

  “So they’re leaving soon.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Grace is attractive. Strong. Stands up for herself.”

  Funny, those were the most positive compliments his mother had ever said about a woman he’d gone out with. Not that he and Grace were dating. He weighed how to best respond. “Yes, but she’s not my type.”

  The truth, but that hadn’t stopped him thinking about the way she hummed Christmas carols, and how cute she looked in his pajamas, and the sexy way she filled out her jeans. No worries. He appreciated women. That didn’t mean he wanted to go out with all of them.

  “I thought your type was female and over the age of eighteen,” his mother said.

  “Drop it.” Bill’s words came out sharper than he intended. “Grace and Liam staying with me is no big deal. Her truck’s wrecked. She’s trying to figure things out. I’m doing what anyone else in town would do for the family of a fallen hero. End of story.”

  Her mother arched a finely plucked brow. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” His jaw tensed. He didn’t want to talk about this any longer. “Anything else?”

  “No, except...”

  Here we go. He needed a refill. Maybe two. “What?”

  “Be careful.”

  “Don’t go all Mama Bear on me.” Frustration laced each word. “There’s no need for you to worry about me where Grace is concerned.”

  “I’m not worried about you. Everyone in Hood Hamlet knows you’re a big flirt and charmer, with no intention of settling down with one woman.” The lines around his mother’s mouth deepened. “But Grace doesn’t know you or your reputation. Be careful you don’t break her heart.”

  Surprise hit first, followed by a stab of guilt. “You’re way off base here.”

  “Am I?”

  “Completely. I don’t hit on women with kids.”

  Never had. Never would.

  Even if she was pretty, with a sweet smile, made amazing baked French toast, and showed backbone, struggling to build a life for her and her son. Okay, Bill had flirted a little and convinced her to stay with him, but he refused to follow his standard operating position and take things further. “I admire Grace. She’s got...”

  “Gumption.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I’m not going to put any moves on her.”

  “Then I guess I have nothing else to say.” His mother patted his shoulder. “If you drink too much, call. I’ll drive you home.”

  A noise sounded next to him. Thomas. Laughing under her breath.

  Bill fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Thanks for the offer, Mom, but I know my limits.”

  “I hope so.” With that, she left the brewpub.

  “Dude.” Welton gave Bill a sympathetic look. “The next round’s on me.”

  “This has to go into the annals of Mama Bear Paulson lore.” Thomas’s laughter spilled out. She wiped the corner of her eye. “I thought she was going to pull out a swab and DNA you right here.”

  “I can’t believe your mom’s worried about Grace,” Welton said. “Never thought I’d see the day Mrs. Paulson thought angel Bill could do wrong, but all Hood Hamlet, including your mother, knows you’re a heartbreaker.”

  “Shut up.” Tonight was looking like a good night to get drunk. But Bill would walk home before calling his mom.

  Hansen walked up. “Get enough freshies today?”

  O’Ryan stood next to him, looking off into the dining area.

  The bartender placed three more pints on the bar.

  Nothing beat a Wy’East Brewing Company beer. Except for a free one. Bill reached for his glass. “I can never get enough.”

  O’Ryan nudged Hansen. “Who’s the hot babe with Thad Humphreys?”

  Thomas sighed. “Guys...”

  “If you know her, Thomas, you gotta tell me her name,” O’Ryan urged. “I think I’m in love.”

  Hansen snickered. “Lust, dude. Love is for fools.”

  “You’re the fool if you feel that way.” Leanne glanced back. “She’s pretty, but I’ve never seen her before.”

  O’Riley sighed. “Someone has to know who she is.”

  Hansen looked over. “Her rack could be bigger, but I’d forget about the no dating in December decree for a piece of that action.”

  Leanne sneered. “Hard to believe you don’t have a girlfriend with such sweet talk, Hansen.”

  Always willing to admire a pretty woman, Bill swung his stool around. He scanned the tables in the back room until his gaze zeroed in on Thad at a table with...Grace and Liam.

  Bill’s heart slammed against his ribs. He slid from his seat, pushing back the stool until it crashed into the bar. His hands clenched, balling into fists, wanting to punch something, someone. He swore, releasing a tirade about one of the nicest guys in town, even knowing Thad was working on Grace’s truck.

  “Just a hunch, but I’d say the woman’s name is Grace.” Leanne dug her fingers into Bill’s shoulder, holding him back. “Your eyes are green when they should be blue. Don’t fly off like a kamikaze. Sit and cool off for a minute.”

  Bill didn’t get jealous; he simply moved on. The way he felt now was illogical, yet he couldn’t help himself.

  Hansen’s eyes widened. “Isn’t Grace the name of the mom who’s staying with you?”

  He nodded, his stomach churning.

  The smiling threesome looked cozy and comfortable, like a family out to dinner and a movie. Thad was single and liked pretty ladies as much as the rest of them. The mechanic’s interest in Grace might not be one hundred percent professional. Of course it wasn’t. The guy had taken Grace and her son out to eat. This was as close to a date as they came.

  “Dibs,” O’Ryan called.

  “Looks like Thad got dibs in first,” Leanne teased.

  O’Ryan shrugged. “I’ll settle for seconds. She looks sweet. Perfect to kiss under
the mistletoe or unwrap on Christmas Eve.”

  Bill’s jaw clenched. Every single muscle bunched. He leveled a death-ray glare at the paramedic. “Don’t even think about it.”

  * * *

  At the Hood Hamlet Brewpub, Grace squirted ketchup onto Liam’s plate. She smiled at Thad, the handsome owner of the body shop. “Thanks for the ride to and from your garage. Stopping for dinner was a great idea. Looks like we were lucky to get a table.”

  Thad wiped his mouth with a napkin. “The brewpub is a big hangout for tourists and locals, even on weeknights.”

  Grace wondered if that included Bill. She glanced around, but didn’t see him. “Well, I’m not surprised. The food’s great. I love the pretzels and dipping sauce.”

  “House specialty.” Thad leaned closer, a serious gleam in his eyes. “Do you have any more questions about your truck?”

  “No, you’ve been very thorough.”

  “It won’t take long for us to do some research tonight. The claims adjustor will up her lowball offer.”

  “I appreciate your help.”

  “Least I can do.” Thad smiled at her and Liam, who dipped French fries in the ketchup. “You two didn’t have the best introduction to Hood Hamlet.”

  “People are making up for our troubles.” The atmosphere in the pub was friendly, warm and welcoming. “Does everyone in Hood Hamlet go out of their way to help strangers?”

  “Not only strangers, but each other.”

  “It must be nice to live here. I—”

  Liam dropped his fry. He reached sideways, toward the empty seat at the table. “Bill. Bill.”

  Grace looked up.

  Bill was striding toward them full of purpose as if he owned not only the brewpub but the town. His jaw was set. His lips narrowed. His gaze was focused on one thing—her.

  Grace’s heart jumped, followed by a cartwheel and a somersault.

  His carelessly styled, ski-tousled hair shifted with each step. His long-sleeved T-shirt stretched across muscular arms and shoulders. His black ski pants emphasized long, strong legs.

  Her pulse sped up. Heat rushed through her veins. She reached for her glass of water and drank. Okay, gulped.

  Thad cleared his throat, then stood, his posture stiff. He shook Bill’s hand. “Care to join us?”