Holly And Mistletoe. Susan Mallery

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      Holly tilted her head slightly. “Are you happy with what you do?”

      “Yes. But I didn’t like being away from my brothers and their families. So I put in an application here. When a position for fire captain opened up, I got the job.” He grinned. “One of my brothers, Travis, is the sheriff. He never said anything, but I suspect he put in a good word for me.”

      Holly laughed softly. The sweet sound penetrated his chest and, for a moment, thawed some of the cold he felt there. Then the laughter faded, and her eyes darkened with an emotion he could only label as sadness.

      Don’t be a fool, Haynes, he told himself. He didn’t know this woman well enough to be reading her emotions.

      “Your family sounds wonderful,” Holly said, the tone of her voice confirming his guess. “I can understand why you would move back to be near them. How long have you been here?”

      “About six months.”

      “That’s when I got here, too.”

      “What brought you to Glenwood? It’s not exactly a bustling metropolis.”

      “My mother and I inherited a store.”

      So she wasn’t a nurse. “Which one?”

      “An antique store across from the park. Now it’s called A Victorian Parlor.”

      He remembered seeing the shop after it had opened. “When I’m feeling better, I’m going to be working on restoring this old place. Maybe I should come by.”

      “Definitely.” She leaned forward. “The store specializes in Victorian pieces, with a whole section on restoration. There are books of wallpaper, both reproductions of old prints, as well as Victorian inspired. I can order fixtures, faucets, even disguised switch covers. As far as the restoration books go, a few are for sale, but mostly I loan them out. That’s one of the things I like about Glenwood. There are so many old homes that people are restoring.”

      She hung on to her plate with one hand and gestured with the other. Enthusiasm filled her voice.

      “You like your work,” he said.

      “I love it.”

      “Then I’ll come into the store and get your help.”

      “I’d like that.”

      Their eyes met. She bit her lower lip and turned away. Jordan studied her. Part of him wanted her to be as shy and innocent as she seemed; another part of him hoped it was an act. If she was playing a role, then he wouldn’t like her—and that would be easier for him. Mostly because he didn’t want to admit being attracted to Holly Garrett.

      “I remember that place being empty for a long time. When did you and your mother inherit the store?”

      “My mom’s aunt passed away about five years ago. She’s the one who left it to us.” She toyed with the last piece of steak, then pushed it away and set the plate on the floor. “My mother was ill for several years. She had breast cancer that kept coming back. We talked about the antique store. It was our joint dream.” Holly leaned back in the chair and folded her hands on her lap. “After she died three years ago, I paid off the rest of the medical bills, then saved money. When I had enough, I moved up here.”

      She told the story simply. Jordan knew there were many details she’d left out. He wondered about family. Was she an only child? Where was her father in all this? But he didn’t like questions, and he wasn’t about to force her to answer his. At least part of the mystery was explained. If her mother had been ill for a long time, Holly would have become familiar with hospitals. No wonder she could do a great nurse imitation.

      “Do you like owning your own business?” he asked.

      “I love it. When I was still in high school, I had a part-time job working in an antique store. After I graduated, I worked there full-time. I know a lot about antiques, restoration. One day I want to buy an old place like this and restore it from the ground up.”

      “Two of my brothers have houses like this. Travis has finished his. Kyle and Sandy are still wrestling with plumbing upgrades. When I’m up and around, I can show you the houses if you’d like.”

      “That would be wonderful. What are you going to do with this house?”

      “I’m not sure. In some of the rooms I’m stripping paint off the original molding. You wouldn’t believe what people do to beautiful wood.”

      “Tell me about it. I’ve seen some horrible things. It should be illegal.” She moved her chair a little closer to his bed. “Once I went to an estate sale. A woman had covered every piece of furniture with gold paint. It was appalling.”

      Holly continued with her story, but Jordan was having trouble concentrating. He stared at her face. When she’d visited him in the hospital, he’d noticed her freckles and the fact that she didn’t wear much makeup. Today was the same. Her lashes were darkened with mascara, but other than that, she was as clean scrubbed as a ten-year-old.

      He watched her full lips move as she spoke. Enthusiasm made her eyes sparkle. Her arms moved, and with them, her body. His gaze was drawn to her chest. She was definitely this side of curvy. Her breasts would spill out of his hands, but he didn’t think he would mind all that much.

      He fought down a grin. His family and friends considered him reclusive and brooding. Occasionally he bordered on surly. So what the hell was this woman doing in his house? And why was he so pleased to be in her company?

      “When you’re ready to strip wallpaper, let me know,” she said. “I have a steamer that works like magic.” She glanced at the high ceilings. “Even with that, in some of the rooms it’s going to take days.”

      “I’ll get my brothers to help me,” he said. “I’ve helped them enough times.”

      “You’re one of four, right?”

      He nodded.

      “That’s nice.” She sighed. “I always wanted a big family, but it was just my mom and me.”

      Holly was alone. Jordan didn’t know what that felt like. Many times he found himself standing on the outside of family activities. Watching rather than participating. But that was about him, not about the family. He always had a place to go where he was welcome. He couldn’t imagine a world where no one cared about him.

      “There’s no husband lurking in the background? Or a jealous boyfriend? I’m not in a position to have to defend myself.”

      She blushed. “Hardly. I haven’t really had time for that sort of thing.”

      What sort of thing had she had time for?

      Leave it alone, Haynes, he told himself. She wasn’t the woman for him. He’d wondered if the innocent act was real. Now he had a bad feeling it was. Wholesome. Just as he’d first thought.

      “How old are you?” he asked.

      “Twenty-eight.”

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