It was two o’clock on a Wednesday. Didn’t anyone have a job in this town?
“What can I help you with, Miss Rachel?” Will forced himself not to take a step back as Rachel moved in, leaning a hip against his door frame. If she were a cat, she’d be purring and rubbing against his ankles.
“Word around town is you don’t have anywhere to go for Christmas dinner.”
This was his fifth invite of the day, and Will knew exactly who to blame for this outpouring of hospitality. His mother and whomever her insiders were. Donna Sinclair might be at her home in Charleston, but she had a network of friends all over the globe, and she’d surely enlisted them like soldiers to look after her wayward son.
“I have plenty of places I could be,” Will said. “I am not a man without a spiral ham.”
She laughed prettily and shook her blonde hair, the highlighted color a contrast to the lengthy, black lashes she batted now. “We all know what you’re gonna do.” She slinked one step closer, her perfume a hammer to his already aching head. “You’re gonna spend every day like the others—locked inside this house, working away.”
“Now that’s not entirely true.” His years reporting the news had never quite scrubbed his Southern drawl clean. “I’ll also be watching sports and catching up on all the movies I’ve missed.” Will attempted an amiable smile. “I do like to stay busy.”
“I could help you with that.”
In another life, he might’ve taken Rachel up on the offer. Now he felt tired even looking at her. “Your hospitality knows no bounds. You are too kind, Rachel.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry, I’ve got a conference call in five minutes. I need to—”
“Mayor Kincaid told me you needed some cheering up.”
Ah, so that’s who Will had to blame for today’s parade of high-pressure sales.
Rachel clasped her hand on his. “My place. Seven o’clock, Christmas Eve.” She gave his fingers a squeeze. “And I promise. . .dessert will be an indulgence you won’t want to miss.”
“I’ll give that some thought. Now, I don’t want to keep you. I know you have all that real estate to sell.”
“Oh, I’ve always got time for—”
“Thanks for stopping by.”
He shut the door right in her beauty pageant face and returned to his dusty office.
The worst part of captivity was the anger of surviving.
Somehow I had lived.
And twenty-three children had not.
The most brutal day of torture could not compare to the thoughts, the visions in my own head.
Another knock from downstairs interrupted the slow clack of Will’s keyboard. He shot from his chair. “For the love of—”
Favoring that right leg, he marched to the foyer like a man with blood on his mind. He wrenched open the door. “Look, sweetheart, if you’re here to offer me a seat at your table for—”
“One night together, and we’re already at the endearment stage?” Noah Kincaid took off his sunglasses and grinned.
“Get off my property, Mayor Kincaid.” Will tried to shut the door, but Noah used his shoulder and nudged his way inside, bypassing Will and walking straight for the kitchen, as if he owned the place.
“Still a little sore about losing last night?” Noah reached into the stainless steel fridge and grabbed a water. “Your refrigerator’s a disgrace. Do you eat anything besides peanut butter and hot dogs?”
“Yeah, a whole collection of desserts you’re not welcome to. But after the day I’ve had, you really want to come in in here and disparage my Skippy?”
Noah’s lips quirked, and he had the grace to look away.
“You got something to say?” Will asked.
“I say you need a freaking haircut and shave. You look like an intellectual grunge singer.”
“This face got me three homemade pies by two o’clock. You know anything about that?”
“Doesn’t sound familiar.” Noah took a swig of water then smiled.
Will took a spoon to the center of the banana pudding. “Maybe if you can’t handle losing a poker game, you shouldn’t play.”
“You cheated.”
“How about you step closer and say that.”
“You want to show me that deck of cards?”
“So to retaliate you tell every single girl and her mama that I’m desolate and alone for Christmas? This is the big bad revenge you said you were gonna get?”
“You say revenge.” Noah sat down on the leather sofa with a piece of coconut cream pie. “I say it’s just evidence of my caring heart. Plus, that’s the price you pay for finally stepping out of your cave.”
“You’re gonna fix the mess you made, Noah” Will said. “I can’t get a thing done with my door bell and phone ringing.”
“You look like death,” Noah said. “Your parents keep calling me wanting updates. They’re worried sick.”
“You know an upset family is the last thing I want, but I need some space.”
“You should at least get out of the house more, so I can truthfully tell them you’re not living like a hobbit.”
“I did get out. And look where it got me—playing host to every single woman and her momma.”
“Oh, the burden of being rich, famous, and an American hero.”
Will’s stomach burned with a familiar acid. He wasn’t a hero. He was. . .Heck, he didn’t know who he was anymore.
Noah picked at a piece of fuzz on the arm of the chair. “Will . . .sit down. I have some news I think you need to hear.”
Purchase His Mistletoe Miracle.
About the Author
Get a free book from Jenny by signing up for her infrequent newsletter. Your Free Book is Just One Click Away!
* * *
Award-winning author Jenny B. Jones writes romance, mystery, and YA with sass and Southern charm. Since she has very little free time, Jenny believes in spending her spare hours in meaningful, intellectual pursuits, such as checking celebrity gossip and pursuing her honorary PhD in queso. Jenny digs foster care, animal rescues, and her adorable son. She lives in the great state of Arkansas, where she’s currently at work on her next novel and loves to hear from readers.
* * *
www.jennybjones.com
Also by Jenny B. Jones
A Charmed Life series
In Between (Katie Parker, Book 1) (FREE!)
On the Loose (Katie Parker, Book 2)
The Big Picture (Katie Parker, Book 3)
I’ll Be Yours
There You’ll Find Me
SWEET ROMANCE, MYSTERY
Wild Heart Summer
Can’t Let You Go (Katie Parker, Book 4)
Enchanted Events Mystery Series
His Mistletoe Miracle
A Sugar Creek Christmas
Save the Date
Just Between You and Me
Fanatically in Trouble Page 29