Finding a Christmas Home

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “Can you stay late?” she asked him. “Mom has the twins, so I can.”

  “I have nothing else to do, at least until Dad comes home. Let’s keep working.”

  They were so busy setting up the equipment that time passed quickly. Finally, well after sunset, they took a break.

  They leaned back against the wooden wall of the single old stall they’d left in place, intending to finish it as an office. He handed her a soda from the cooler he’d brought, then took one for himself.

  Perspiration dripped down the back of Hannah’s neck. She took a long draw and fanned herself. “Hot work,” she said.

  Luke held his cold can against her cheek. “That should cool you off.”

  “Don’t,” she said, and scooted away, because the act felt too intimate. Then she stared miserably at the floorboards. Awkward Hannah. That was all she’d ever be.

  She waited for his criticism, but it didn’t come. Finally, she hazarded a glance in his direction. Just as she’d feared, he was studying her. She shook her head, making her hair fall to shield her face.

  “Want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

  The thing was, she did want to tell him. To tell him that he was the most attractive man she’d ever been around, and that she was feeling more emotions toward him every day. To tell him that he made her comfortable enough to want to explore that world of dating and men she’d shunned for so long.

  That he was the uncle of the twins, and that his brother was their father.

  But that, she couldn’t say.

  She scrambled to her feet. “I’ll be back, I just... I just have to get something out of my car.” It was a weak excuse, but she didn’t stay long enough for him to question it. She hurried to the barn door, opened it and walked out into a mix of freezing rain and snow.

  As she headed toward her car, not sure whether she’d go back inside or just drive away—run away—her feet started to go out from under her and she windmilled her arms to keep from going down.

  She ran her foot back and forth over the paved driveway. Ice.

  Solid and hard, for how fast it must have frozen. Reese hadn’t said anything about ice when he’d come in. But then that had been hours ago.

  She walked the rest of the way to her car, carefully. It, too, was encased in a thin shell of ice.

  When she tried the door, it didn’t move. Frozen shut.

  She could work on it, probably get it open, but she wasn’t so sure about driving home. The rolling country roads out this way didn’t tend to get treated quickly, especially when the workday was over and people were mostly safe at home.

  She sucked in a breath of static-smelling, icy air and headed back to the barn. Pushing open the door, she walked inside.

  Luke was back to work, fitting PVC poles together.

  “We’re in trouble,” she called to him.

  “Oh?” His hands stilled and he looked over his shoulder at her.

  She gestured back toward the door. “Ice storm.”

  As if on cue, the lights went out.

  * * *

  The barn was as pitch-black as a deep cave. Feeling his way with his feet, Luke walked toward the spot where Hannah was standing. “Where are you?”

  “Luke?” she said at the same time. Her hand caught one of his.

  His other hand, reaching toward her, brushed against her hair. Just like the one time he’d touched it before, it was soft and silky. His hand wanted to linger. The black darkness intensified everything, enclosing them in a world of their own.

  She’d gone still, holding his other hand.

  Kiss her! You’d be crazy not to kiss her!

  It was his old self speaking. He pulled back both hands and cleared his throat. “You stay here,” he said. “I’m going to see how bad it is.” And cool off.

  He felt his way to the door and went out into the darkness, sucking in air. Wind whipped around him, penetrating his flannel shirt, freezing his sweat. It looked like the ice storm had turned into a snowstorm, or at least a squall. Visibility was practically zero. He tested his footing because of what Hannah had said.

  Yep. Ice underneath the blowing, deepening snow.

  He went back inside on a snowy gust and pushed hard to close the door behind him. “Turned into a squall,” he said. “Probably won’t last long, but for now, visibility is basically zero. Better get comfortable.” He pushed aside the burlap curtain that covered the barn’s big sash window, and a little gray light filtered in.

  Now he could see Hannah’s face, and she looked panicky. Clearly, she’d felt what sparked between them. “I’ll call Gabby,” she said. “Maybe we can make it up to the house and hang out with them.”

  Was it that bad, being stuck here with just him?

  From her frantic scrolling of her phone, apparently it was.

  Relief crossed her face when Gabby answered. They spoke for a few minutes, Hannah’s face becoming steadily less cheerful. She nodded, frowned and ended the call. “They’re all up at the church tonight, doing that craft workshop,” she said. “Izzy and Gabby’s grandma, too. They’re hunkering down there until the roads get treated. She didn’t say anything about a squall.”

  “Probably didn’t hit them yet.”

  She hesitated, then spoke again. “She did say we’d be better off to stay here than to try to walk up to the house. It’s all locked up, and they don’t leave a key out.”

  “Makes sense,” he said gravely. So they were stuck here, and he tamped down an exultant feeling, another one straight from his past. When they got out of this situation, he was going to make an appointment with the pastor. He was supposed to be a new, cleansed man, so why were his old urges still so strong?

  “Guess we should make ourselves comfortable,” he said.

  She still looked panicky.

  “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.” He said it firmly, meeting and holding her gaze, so she’d get that he wasn’t going to try anything, make a move. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him.

  Her cheeks went pink and she studied his face. Wow, she was pretty.

  “Okay,” she said, and then shivered. “I’m cold.”

  He looked around for his coat and tried to give it to her, but she held up a hand. “No, Luke, you need to stay warm, too.”

  “That’s going to be a problem, depending on how long this storm lasts,” he said. “The space heaters cut off right along with the lights.”

  Her eyes widened. “What are we going to do?”

  “Body heat,” he joked automatically, and then could have kicked himself. How was she going to trust him when he said things like that?

  She nodded. “I guess that’s what we’ll have to do.”

  She’d taken him seriously. Uh-oh.

  His expression must have showed his discomfort.

  “Unless you don’t want to,” she said, sounding shy.

  “It’s just for a little while.” He hoped. Sometimes outages around here lasted all night, or at least, they had when he was a kid.

  He stepped closer and saw that she was shivering. “C’mere,” he said. He tucked her beneath his arm and urged her toward the wall where they’d been sitting before. “Sit here and I’ll keep you warm.”

  He tended to run hot. Women had always liked that about him.

  Might as well use it for a good cause.

  They sat down together and he spread his coat over them. They shifted around to get comfortable and she nestled in.

  His heart rate shot up.

  He inhaled the surprisingly spicy scent of her. He’d never have pegged Hannah for wearing fancy perfume, but she smelled really, really good.

  She fit perfectly beneath his arm, against his side.

  They sat like that for a little while, not talking. Wind whipped around the old barn, m
aking it creak. Inside, together, though, they were warm.

  He liked it too much. Not just in the old physical way, but something different. He wanted to protect Hannah, to keep her warm in all kinds of ways. Wanted to help her feel safe and secure. Wanted to reassure her.

  It was a feeling he’d never had before, a feeling of being responsible for a woman’s well-being. It seemed to make his heart swell in his chest. The fact that he wasn’t angling to make things physical, had no intention of it, buoyed him up and made him feel like a better man.

  “Luke?” Her voice was tentative.

  “Yeah?” He looked down at her, pulled her closer. “Still cold?”

  “No, I...” She raised an eyebrow. “You know how you said I was safe with you?”

  “I meant it.”

  She nodded and relaxed into him, turning a bit, her hand on his arm now. She probably didn’t realize she was stroking his arm, just lightly.

  He looked down at her, and when she shivered, he tucked the jacket closer around her.

  She reached up and touched his face. “You need to shave,” she said, running a finger over his stubbly cheek.

  “I do.” He caught her hand as it started to tangle in his hair, squeezed it and moved it down to her own lap.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, so softly he had to lean down to hear.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m not.”

  Their gazes met and held for a long moment and then she looked away.

  He let the side of his face rest on top of her head for a moment and breathed slowly. He’d promised she’d be safe, and that had given her the courage to explore.

  Here came her hand again, reaching for his arm, stroking it.

  He reached for it, held it in front of him and, one at a time, tucked her fingers down until her hand was a loose fist in front of him. “You’re safe with me,” he said, hearing the strain in his own voice, “but I’m not a robot. Being close to you, it’s...it affects me.”

  She shifted to face him. “I know. Me, too.” She looked at him steadily now.

  He leaned forward to see her better, her fisted hand an inch away from his mouth. “What do you want?”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

  He drew in a slow breath and let it out just as slowly. Then he pulled her hand to him and dropped a kiss on each knuckle, never looking away from her.

  Her hand was so tiny in his. Not soft—she worked hard—but tiny.

  He breathed in, breathed out. Watched her eyes and saw them darken. Looked at that beautiful mouth.

  “This is...tough,” he said, barely managing to get the words out.

  She looked into his eyes. “Not easy for me, either.” The words were as quiet as a feather brushing his ear.

  She rose up to her knees, leaned toward him and put her hands on his shoulders. Then she pressed her lips to his.

  He cupped her face and let her kiss him, the action tentative and unsure, just a brief touch of lips. That was fine. This was going to be okay. He’d keep his hands still, right where they were, and it would be over, and he could breathe.

  She closed her eyes and did it again, slower, lingering.

  He stiffened and stayed utterly still.

  She pulled back and tilted her head to one side. “Don’t you like it?” she asked.

  That made him laugh a little. “Oh, Hannah.”

  One of her eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?”

  All of a sudden, he wondered if she might know exactly what she was doing. He let his hand stray into her hair, to brush into the softness of it.

  She turned her face into his hand and kissed it, closing her eyes.

  He closed his, too. I really tried, Lord.

  And then he gathered her close and kissed her the way it seemed like she needed to be kissed.

  Chapter Ten

  Hannah’s heart raced as Luke’s lips pressed hers, quick and hard. She pulled back to look at him, half scared, half wanting to memorize this moment.

  His arms, warm around her, made her feel more secure and grounded than she could ever remember.

  He touched her cheek. “This okay?”

  It was a genuine question. He was asking for her consent. For the briefest moment, she flashed back to the time when she hadn’t been asked, and her muscles tensed.

  Deliberately, she relaxed them and focused on Luke: his strong arms, his gentle touch, the concern in his eyes. “More than okay,” she whispered.

  “Then close your eyes.” It was half request, half order.

  The last thing she saw was his intent, warm gaze. Then she closed her eyes and her other senses blossomed to life: the firm, absolutely confident pressure of his lips; the scent of him, some masculine, foresty soap; the sound of her own indrawn breath.

  She’d never been kissed like this. Never been held like this, and the comfort of it melted something that had been frozen inside her since she’d been a young teenager.

  It wasn’t something he was doing to her; she was a full participant. When she pulled back a little, afraid she was showing too much enthusiasm, he stroked her hair and she felt him smile against her mouth and knew it was good, that she wanted to be nowhere else but right here, doing this exact thing, and she was pretty sure he felt the same way.

  Minutes later, a sound intruded. From outside, a harsh, repetitive scraping.

  She pulled back. “What’s that?”

  “Plows are here,” he said. “They’re scraping and salting the roads.” He listened. “Could be a power truck out there, too.”

  So they weren’t stuck. They didn’t have to stay here, in the darkness, kissing.

  She reached up and ran a finger over his bristly cheek. She breathed in the scent of him.

  They didn’t have to stay here, but she didn’t want to leave. She leaned against him, wrapped her arms around that strong, muscular chest.

  After a minute, he took gentle hold of her wrists and moved her hands away from him. “We should get ready to go.”

  She couldn’t help the small, resistant sound she made. She didn’t want this to end.

  When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her, his expression serious. What did that mean? That he wasn’t as into it as she’d been?

  He pulled her close against his chest and kissed the top of her head, and she felt again that delicious security, but another doubt rushed in behind it: had she led him on? As she’d been accused of doing that awful time before?

  There was a quiet snap, and the lights flashed on.

  And here she was, practically sitting in Luke’s lap. Obviously enjoying his embrace. Which, whether it meant that she was a tease who led men on, or whether it had been a pity kiss, or whether he wanted it to be the start of something more, the upshot was the same: she shouldn’t have let it happen. Feeling horribly exposed, she scrambled to her feet.

  Kissing Luke Hutchenson had been a big mistake that could only lead in a direction she couldn’t possibly go.

  * * *

  After the delightful surprise of kissing Hannah, Luke’s life crashed back into its everyday reality when he brought his father home from the hospital Saturday morning.

  Wind whipped across the bleak countryside, and Luke drove slowly, concentrating on the road. It had continued to snow off and on last night, and the plows hadn’t quite kept up. There were hazardous, icy spots everywhere.

  Would he be able to take care of his father? He had instructions about the wound and the drain and the activity level, the recommended diet, what to watch out for. But the fact remained that he wasn’t a trained medical professional, and his father was anything but a model patient.

  “I can do it myself,” Dad said the minute they pulled up in front of the house. He opened the car door.

  “Wait,” Luke said sharply. He turned off the car and hurried around to the passenge
r side as Dad tried, without success, to heave himself out of the car, cursing in obvious pain.

  Luke grabbed for his father’s flailing hands. “You’re going to rip open your incision. Sit still a minute!”

  “We, um, we’ll just leave this on the porch.” The voice behind Luke belonged to Hannah’s mom, and he turned his head to see that, oh, great, Hannah was there, too. Both of them held dishes. They’d been kind and brought food.

  “Thanks,” he said distractedly as Dad made another effort to heave himself up. “We... Thanks.”

  There was a little clank as they set down their dishes, and the two of them picked up their cooler and headed off to the little path between their houses.

  “Interfering women,” Dad grunted, plenty loud enough for them to hear. His face was red, whether from exertion or embarrassment, Luke couldn’t tell. Probably both.

  “Look, you’ll be faster if you let me help you. Swing your legs around first.”

  His father tried to do it, failed and swore as Luke reached down to help him move his legs. Luke tried to ignore the string of critical words as he used both hands to help his father stand. Then he supported him, gripping one ropey bicep and putting the other arm around his father. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I set up a bed downstairs.”

  As they made their slow way toward the house, Luke couldn’t help thinking about Hannah. Her uncomfortable expression just now. She wasn’t used to the harsh conversations Luke and his father had on a regular basis.

  Working with her yesterday, and then those moments holding and kissing her...he’d never felt anything like it before. It had been perfect. A taste of the kind of love he’d never known he craved.

  Of course, she’d skittered away as soon as the roads were clear, just as she’d skittered away now.

  He looked at the crumbling concrete steps now adorned with fragrant, covered dishes. He listened to his father’s complaints and foul language.