Cowboy Under the Mistletoe. Linda Goodnight

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СКАЧАТЬ down. “How you feeling, Miss Pat? Can I do anything for you?”

      “You sure can, sweetie. I am useless as a newborn.” Her strong voice didn’t match her body. “Get my purse over there on the table where Jacob stuck it, and then find my Sudoku book in all that mess of sacks.”

      “I can do that.” Allison hopped up, amused but pleased that Miss Pat’s personality hadn’t faded like her body, a good sign she had the grit to stage a fourth quarter comeback. “Would you like for me to unpack and put everything away? I’d be pleased to do it.”

      “Now, there’s a fine idea. See, Jacob.” She tilted her head back to gaze up at her grandson. “Your grandpa said something would turn up and here she is. Allison will help get this place in order. Won’t you, Allison?”

      “Well, sure I will, if that’s what you need.”

      “Good. This house needs a cleaning from top to bottom.”

      “I can do that.” Never mind that her brothers would go ballistic to know she was in the Hamilton house with Jake. She was here for Miss Pat. Helping a friend was the Buchanon way. And yes, she admitted, she wanted to get to know Jake again. He was a memory that wouldn’t go away. “I can’t tonight, but I’ll come by tomorrow after work. How’s that sound?”

      “She’s a jewel, isn’t she, Jacob? Just like in high school when she was sweet on you.”

      Jake looked as if he’d swallowed a bug. Allison’s face heated, but she grinned. Miss Pat never minced words.

      “Come on, Jacob,” she said, teasing him about the seldom-used name. “Help me find that puzzle book.”

      Reluctantly, and with his expression shuttered, he started crinkling plastic sacks. Allison fetched the handbag, handed it off to Miss Pat and joined Jake in the hunt for that all-important puzzle book.

      Each time she looked up, their eyes met. Every bit as quickly, one of them would look away. She was acutely aware of his masculine presence, his cowboy swagger, his manly, outdoors scent. Aware in a way that disturbed her thinking.

      She found the thick Sudoku pad in the bottom of an ugly brown plastic washbasin.

      “Here’s your puzzle book, Miss Pat. Need a pencil?”

      “Got one in my purse.” Miss Pat had already extracted a cell phone and was scrolling the contacts. “No, Ralph, it’s not time for my meds.”

      Jake glanced at a square wall clock hanging next to an outdated calendar, a sad reminder that no one had lived here for several months. “Another hour, Granny.”

      “That’s what I told Ralph. I’ve got to text Mae at the prison and let her know I survived the ride home.”

      Jake rolled his eyes. “Carson Convalescence was not a prison.”

      “A lot you’d know about it.” Using an index finger, she tapped a message on the phone’s keyboard. “Ah, there we go. Poor Mae. Stuck in that prison through Christmas.”

      With a resigned shake of his head, Jake grabbed two suitcases and lugged them through a doorway. Allison followed with an armful of crinkling Walmart sacks.

      “Do you know where everything goes?” she asked.

      “No.”

      “We’ll figure it out.” Allison opened the closet and took out some empty hangers and then started unpacking the mishmash of belongings.

      Jake edged around her, looking uncertain and a little thunderous. “You don’t have to do this.”

      “Yes, I do.”

      “Why?” He paused in hanging up a dress to stare at her across Miss Pat’s dusty dresser.

      Every nerve ending reacted to that green gaze, but Allison refused to let her jumbled feelings show. “Because Ralph said I would.”

      He grinned. Finally. He had a killer grin beneath olive eyes that had driven more than one girl to doodle his name on the edge of her spiral notebook. Including Allison. But that was in high school. That was before the insanity of a football-focused town had heaped so much condemnation and hurt onto a teenage boy that he’d run away with the rodeo.

      “Ralph was my grandpa. She talks to him a lot.”

      “Did the doctors say anything?” Allison folded a blue fleece throw into a neat square. “About her mental state, I mean?”

      “No. I’m worried, though. I wonder if she’ll be able to live alone again.”

      “You’re not planning to stay?”

      “Not long. Maybe until after Christmas.” He jerked one shoulder. “I gotta make a living.”

      A massive wave of disappointment drenched her good mood. A short stay was better, safer, sensible, but Allison didn’t like it.

      A stack of nighties in her hand, she pondered her reaction. She was an adult now, not a dewy-eyed teenager in love with the only boy who’d ever kissed her.

      Like that made one bit of difference when it came to Jake Hamilton.

      * * *

      Jake saw a range of emotions flicker across Allison’s face. Disappointment, worry, relief. He latched on to the last one. She wanted him gone. Out of sight, out of mind. Away from the town that revered Buchanons and loathed Jake Hamilton.

      Then why was she here? Why did she insist on pushing past his caution when absolutely nothing good could come of it?

      He zipped open a tired blue suitcase, a throwback to the sixties, to find a stack of underwear. Not his favorite thing to unpack with Allison in the room.

      His brain had a sudden flashback, a suppressed memory of pink and lace he never should have seen.

      He glanced at her. Did she remember, too?

      Allison was beside him in a second. “Let me do that.”

      She grabbed the stack from his hands as he crouched toward the opened drawer. They knocked heads.

      “Ow!” Allison sat back on her haunches and laughed. “Hard head.”

      “I was about to say the same thing.” In truth, her head was harder on the inside than on the outside. The woman never gave up, a trait that would leave her disappointed and hurt.

      They were a foot apart in front of Granny Pat’s oak dresser, on their toes, both holding to a stack of ladies’ lingerie, and Jake wished for the thousandth time he could erase one terrible day from their lives. He was comfortable with Allison, liked her, a dangerous thing, then and now. She made him smile. She even made him believe in himself. Or she once had. With everything in him he wanted to know this grown-up Allison, a dangerous, troubling proposition.

      “You’ve grown up.” Stupid thing to say, but better than yanking her into his arms—an errant, radical thought worthy of a beating from the Buchanon brothers.

      She СКАЧАТЬ