Название: Her Mistletoe Magic
Автор: Kristine Rolofson
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Mills & Boon M&B
isbn: 9781474097673
isbn:
“I stayed in the guest room for a few nights,” Grace said, laughing. “Your brother rescued me from having to go up and down the stairs to my condo.”
Nico groaned. “Ignore her, Grace. She’s been hallucinating since her fifth month. Where is everybody? I thought I’d have to rescue Grace from the hordes.”
“Your mother locked everyone in the kitchen.”
“Johnny, really.” Terry shot him an indulgent look. “You tease too much. Grace will think you’re serious.”
Grace thought he was wonderful. She watched his daughter wrap her arm around his waist and give him a little side hug. Cute.
“I raised Nico with good manners,” Terry said, patting Grace’s arm. “I’m sure he’s taken good care of you and behaved like a perfect gentleman. How did you hurt yourself?”
“I slipped on a set of jingle bells in the kitchen.”
“My kitchen,” Nico said. “At the lodge. They fell off a cookie tray. And I’ve been stuck with Grace ever since.”
“He caught me before I hit the floor,” Grace assured his mother. “And he went with me to the clinic, then took me home because I couldn’t do the stairs and he had a ramp.”
Beth’s eyebrows rose and she and her father exchanged amused looks.
“Well,” Johnny Vitelli said. “Thank goodness for Al’s ramp.”
“Al’s ramp?”
Beth answered. “Al can’t do steps, either, so Nico had it built when he bought the house.”
“He did?” Grace gave him a questioning look, which he ignored.
His mother shook her head. “I’m still confused about the jingle bells.”
“Grace was coming into the kitchen to boss me around,” he confided to another sister who’d recently entered the room. Tall, built like Nico and his mother, she had big blue eyes and wore her brown hair in a long braid that was draped over her shoulder. Faded jeans and a stained long-sleeved T-shirt added to the image of a woman who preferred comfort to fashion. Her smile was friendly when she turned to Grace.
“Hi,” she said, sticking out her hand to shake Grace’s. “I’m Cathy, mother of the two female hellions.” She looked at her mother. “I didn’t tell them they could eat cookies. They lied to you.”
Terry chuckled. “Fibbed,” she corrected. “Those sweet little girls would never lie.”
Cathy rolled her eyes at Grace. “Yeah, right. Did you like the scarf? Nico picked out the yarn.”
“He did?”
“Yep. Secret Santa, right?”
Grace looked at Nico, who avoided her gaze. “What about the birdseed?”
“Birdseed?” Cathy looked at her brother.
“Secret Santa,” he muttered, looking guilty. “Isn’t that the point?”
Grace wanted to hug him because he looked so uncharacteristically embarrassed. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss him until they were both breathless because he’d given her a scarf that matched her eyes and kept it a secret. He’d built a ramp for his elderly, lame dog and kept that information to himself, too.
She was in love with him. Despite her best intentions she’d fallen for Nico Vitelli, who dated models and cooked for movie stars. And had just introduced her to his family as his friend from work.
This wasn’t good, she realized. Not good at all.
“Where are the guys?” Nico attempted to change the subject as he dangled a little girl from each arm. “Hiding from their snoopy wives again?”
“Jon and Mark are in the basement doing a project for Grandpa.” Cathy frowned at him. “Birdseed? What’s that about?”
“Never mind.” He turned to Grace. “I put your bags in the kitchen.”
“Thanks.” Nico certainly didn’t want to talk about the scarf.
“Where’s Marie and her gang?” Nico released the girls, whispering something in their ears that sent them running out of the room. Cathy chased after them.
“Running late.” Everyone laughed at that, leaving Grace to assume that Marie was usually running behind schedule. Terry shook a finger at her youngest daughter. “You wait until you have three children to get out of the house on Christmas Eve. It’s not so easy.”
Beth patted her stomach. “I feel like I have three of them in here right now. Besides, little Elvis in here might be an only child.”
“Elvis?”
“His due date is January eighth. Same day Elvis was born.” Beth grinned. “Mom hates it when I call him Elvis.”
“I keep wondering if you’re serious,” Terry sputtered.
Nico held out a hand to Grace. “Come on, Grace. I’ll take you into the kitchen where the real action is.” He turned to his mother. “We haven’t had lunch. Or breakfast.”
Terry’s face lit up. “Good. I’ll fix you something nice. Grace, do you like eggplant parmigiana? Or would you rather have lasagna? With a nice salad and some lovely Tuscan wine we ordered last month and fell in love with.”
“That sounds lovely, but don’t go to any—”
“Save your breath,” Nico said, holding her tightly. “She will feed you no matter what you say, and it will make her happy. After all, we’re here to eat, aren’t we?”
“You are, you are,” Johnny Vitelli said. “We are all here together and what could be better than that?”
Nothing, Grace decided two hours later. Nothing could be better than spending the afternoon with the large and noisy Vitelli family. Maria, her husband, Danny, and their three children arrived while Grace was seated at the large farm table, sipping her first glass of wine and sampling rosemary focaccia with a peppery olive oil. They brought Al with them, since he’d been at their house again that morning. The dog greeted her like a long-lost friend and she sneaked him a piece of her bread. Brian gave Grace a shy smile, then let his grandmother hug and kiss him. His older sister, Anna, got the same treatment from both grandparents before hurrying over to say hello to Grace. She was eleven, she confided while eating a thick slice of bread, and the oldest grandchild.
“I remember you,” Anna said. “You helped me when I was sad, remember?”
It took Grace a moment to realize what the girl meant. Last fall at the lodge Anna had been crying. Her parents were late and she was worried because her little sister had had to go to the hospital with a fever.
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