by Ginny Frost
His actions held some logic. Saving the family business, oh, and that whole telling the truth thing. She wished he’d talked to her first before confronting Earl. Perhaps they could have… oh, she didn’t know, found a better solution, tricked Earl into paying?
Something.
Used to be, sleeping with someone earned you favors.
Margaret snorted at the idea. Not her style at all. She never asked for favoritism or special treatment for anything, especially sexual favors, even in her marriage. But for once, she hoped some man would do good by her in a time of trouble. Earl left her high and dry, but when Ryan screwed her, it cut her to the bone.
Squeezing her son, she kissed his forehead. “Yes, home again.”
“Jiggity, jig!” Mikey screamed and dashed around the room, collecting random toys and socks.
Margaret watched, an amused smile on her lips. She caught Jill’s gaze. The teen stood in the doorway, shaking her head at her brother. “Anyway…” Jill rolled her eyes. Typical fourteen. “I spoke with Emil…”
“You mean Mr. Russo?” Jill’s crush on the innkeeper deepened with each day they stayed.
“Yeah, whatever. He gave me the recipe for the apple pie. I want to try it when we’re home, okay?” She glared at her mother as if Margaret might deny her daughter the right to use a recipe a handsome man taught her.
Margaret repressed a grin. “I guess. We’ll need to hit the grocery store,” she said as she scooped up the papers and tossed them into her purse. One less thing to pack.
“Duh, Mom.” Jill threw herself down on the bed, phone in hand. “After four days, you think any of the food will be good?” She made an exaggerated gagging gesture before turning her back.
Fourteen—so fun.
***
“You quit already?” David Kramer leaned back in his desk chair, his ankles crossed. He twitched a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.
“Not exactly, Dad. I spoke with the mayor about my position and your retirement. I’m part-time anyway. She knew I’d need a full-time job at some point.” Ryan didn’t want to step out on the job he’d just begun, but if Dad was serious about retirement, then there was no time like the present.
“I don’t want ya getting a bad rep about town. How’s about I wait until Mayor Anthony finds a replacement? Some guy without as many conflicts of interest.” Dad’s wry grin warmed Ryan.
He shook his head. “If you insist, Dad. But in the meantime, can I borrow some supplies?”
Dad leaned further back in his chair. “Borrow, no. Buy, yes.” He grinned, and Ryan threw his hat at him.
Chapter Fourteen
Margaret pulled into the driveway, her temper already flaring. Another truck parked at her house. She was tired of these surprise visits from every guy in town. Who now? Another Kramer? Her old high school boyfriend? Grumbling, she slammed the car door shut.
“Kids, grab the groceries while I deal with this,” she called over her shoulder as she stalked around the house.
“Sure, Ma. Just dump me with him and $200 worth of food. I’m not responsible if he eats the brownies.” Jill stood with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. Margaret waved her off. Strange trucks took precedence over pissy teens and brownie-stealing kiddos.
“Hey!” Margaret snapped as she rounded the corner of the house. “What do you think…” The words died in her throat. Plywood, sawhorses, and two by fours covered the ground. The plastic that had screened the hole in the wall lay on the snow, and someone was sawing away at the damaged wood.
The truck in the driveway wasn’t Earl’s van, but if he borrowed… “Hey,” she called again. “What do you think you’re doing?” An idiot working out here in the cold and snow without permission. It must be…
Ryan.
Margaret stopped dead. Words died in her throat at the sight of him in a winter coat, gloves, and wool hat under a construction helmet. “Wha…” was the only sound to escape her.
“Damn,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought you wouldn't be home for another hour or more. I asked Emil to stall you.”
“Is that why he tried to feed us?” Margaret huffed. “I told him off, thinking he wanted to weasel another meal out of my thin wallet. I’m such an ass.”
Ryan tossed down his hand saw and crossed to her, one arm wrapping around her shoulder. “Nah, you forget some of us are good guys. Like Emil.”
Margaret pursed her lips. “Like you.”
Ryan shrugged. “If the shoe fits.
“Nice guys who break into my house and help my ex-husband get out of paying for repairs?” She tapped her foot, á la Jill. But there was no bite in her words. She knew Ryan had done the right thing. Well, except he’d included Earl in the discussion.
Ryan squared her in front of him, one hand on each shoulder. “Yes, nice guys who realized they screwed up about your insurance claim. Nice guys who won’t lie about things like this and who care about you. Nice guys who want you and your kids to have a Christmas without a hole in your house. Nice guys who wanna fix it.”
A warmth spread over her chest, but Margaret couldn’t give in to him. Not yet. “Nice guys who think they can fix everything usually make it worse.” Earl had seemed like a nice guy, merely misunderstood, and she paid for that mistake for years. She wasn’t walking down the same road again.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ryan said quietly. He released her, and she resisted the urge to curl closer to him in the cold. To feel his warm arms around her, to hear him say everything will work out, that he wasn’t blowing smoke. “If you’ll let me, Ms. Porter…”
“It’s Ms. Porter now?” She cocked an eyebrow, but he held up a finger, making her wait.
“If you’ll allow me to present a gift to you and your family.” He waved a hand at the open wall, tucking the other behind him.
“A busted wall? Thanks. I’ve got one.” She took a step, pretending to leave. Ryan had something up his sleeve. She wanted nothing more than to throw him down in the snow and thank him for even being there, but she waited, letting him play his hand.
“Ah, but Daisy…” He flipped his hand out from behind his back and with a snap, a bouquet of white daisies appeared, something out of a magician’s hat.
Flowers? Daisies. Man, this guy was good. She played stoic, though. “What?” she asked as he pushed the flowers into her hands. He grasped her arm and pulled her forward, showing her the view through the hole.
Inside her living room, her children sat before a six-foot, fully decorated Christmas tree surrounded by presents. The exact vision she’d had earlier of Ryan with her family.
Margaret’s mouth dropped open. “How?” she gasped.
“There’s a big hole in your wall, and the tree fit right in.” He held out a hand for her and they stepped through the gap. The space remained a mess, with a soggy carpet and charred walls. But the tree lit up the room like… well, like Christmas. “Those are battery-powered LED lights. Safe and easy to use. No wires.”
“No wires.” She breathed. Her chest constricted and tears burned in her eyes. “Ryan…” She didn’t know what to think. He saved Christmas. “You’ll repair the wall?” The words poured out of her before she realized what she was asking. She put a hand over her mouth, embarrassed.
“Yes. Might take a bit with my other two jobs, but every spare minute I have, I’ll be here, helping, in any way I can.” He ran a finger down her cheek, saying a thousand things with the tiny gesture.
Her heart filled with emotion as Mikey discovered a huge firetruck under the tree and squealed with delight. “I can’t ask,” she said.
“You’re not,” Ryan whispered in her ear. “I’m giving.” His warm breath on her ear sent fire through her veins. Should she let him repair her house? And make such a grand gesture after they’d only known each other…
“It’s Christmas,” he said. She glanced at the tree, the presents—not tons, but a few, and the soft twinkling from the colored lights. The room, though me
ssy, finally had the holiday spirit, thanks to Ryan. He pointed upward. A sprig of mistletoe hung over the gap in the wall.
She smiled, her heart overflowing with the possibilities of the future. And the perfect placement of the sprig. “Christmas.” She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. “It’s the little things.” Touching her forehead to his, she said, “Thank you, Ryan. I…”
“Eww. Don’t look, squirt,” Jill interrupted.
Margaret turned to blast the girl, but as Ryan caught her chin, he placed his finger to her lips. “Merry Christmas.” And he kissed her until her toes curled.
Check out these titles by Ginny Frost
The Bar Scene—Terese Brock manages the Oakwood Tavern with style and grace. Unfortunately, she's trying to avoid her employer’s IRS disaster and her own debts. She needs a new job—fast. Terese hopes to land an executive position at the new conference center, the perfect solution to all her money woes. For months, Drew Drake has admired Terese from afar, but she doesn’t know he exists. He’s thrilled when his humor and persistence catch her eye. And when she takes him home, he discovers she’s everything he expected, and so much more. Drew fails to mention he’s the heir to one of the most successful businesses in town, the force behind the new conference center. Rather than clue her in, he decides to let her get to know the real him. When she walks into her interview, ready to kick ass and take names, her universe shatters. Behind the desk sits her boy-toy, Drew.
Swindled—For years, Marley Volkov's survival depended on conning people out of their life savings. One look into Alan Reid's pained eyes, with his soiled reputation and heap of financial problems, awakens a new empathy inside her. She renounces grifting forever and not just because every inch of her burns to be with him. But his association with her and her checkered past will drag him further into the gutter. To save herself, to save him, she must walk away. Walk away from the unbridled desire he inspires, from the passion and sympathy that feel like home.
Alan Reid is buried to the neck in money issues. The understanding and compassion he finds in Marley is the exact thing he needs at the completely wrong time. Everything about her makes his blood run hot. She's smart, irresistible, and a criminal. Why is the only person who's ever shown him sympathy have to be a con artist? He can't be with her, but he's compelled to save her from herself.
About the Author
Ginny Frost writes contemporary romance with a sexy, funny kick. In her downtime, she plays clerk at the local library— the perfect job to feed her reading addiction.
She lives in upstate NY with her very own kindhearted ogre, their two smart and sassy daughters and an evil cat named Flash.
Find Ginny Frost online
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