The Christmas Family. Линда Гуднайт

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СКАЧАТЬ expecting guests.” She went to the side window and peeked out at the graying evening. A bright blue pickup had pulled into the driveway behind her Honda. “Who in the world is that?”

      Lila, busy with another of her art projects, didn’t look up. “I don’t know. Maybe Santa Claus.”

      Abby smiled, though the statement squeezed her chest. This year was the first time Lila was old enough to really get into the idea of Santa Claus, but Lila’s medical expenses kept their small budget strained to the breaking point. Lila wouldn’t notice the small size of the Christmas gifts under the tree, but her mother would.

      “Too early for Santa, so I don’t know who...” Her voice dwindled away as two gorgeous males exited the gleaming blue truck and sauntered up her drive. They looked familiar and they had to be brothers. Though one was half a foot taller than the other, their strides matched and they swung their arms with identical confidence as though the world was their oyster. With looks like those, it probably was.

      “Oh, my.” As they came closer, she recognized them. Buchanons, two of the four sear-your-eyeballs-gorgeous brothers.

      Abby opened the front door as the men stepped upon her wooden porch. A weak board groaned and she held her breath, hoping they wouldn’t fall through.

      “I don’t have home owners’ insurance,” she blurted.

      The taller one with swimming-pool eyes tilted his head. She wished she could remember his name. “Ma’am?”

      “The porch,” she managed, feeling stupider by the minute as her brain refused to work but her mouth kept going. “Some of the boards are weak. You’re big. Don’t fall through.”

      Both men dipped their heads to stare at the porch and then exchanged glances. “Needs work.”

      “Don’t I know it,” Abby said.

      She stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance and wishing they’d state their business. Buchanons didn’t exactly hang out on this side of town and they were letting out expensive heat.

      “That’s what we want to talk to you about.”

      “My porch?” Abby poked a finger into her breastbone and then flung out her hand. “Sorry, I can’t afford to hire anyone right now.”

      “Oh, no, that’s not why we’re here,” said Mr. Swimming-Pool Eyes. “I’m Brady Buchanon and this is my brother, Dawson. Buchanon Built Construction.”

      Brady and Dawson. She could never remember one brother from the other, only that all four were heartthrobs. She did, however, remember their routine orders at the diner.

      Two gorgeous men on her doorstep was not the norm and she was pedaling fast to figure out why they were here. She pointed to Dawson. “Eggs over easy. And you—” Her finger went to Brady. “French toast and large milk but occasionally the house special.”

      A killer smile split Brady Buchanon’s face. “You’re making me hungry.”

      “Hazard of the job. I equate everyone in Gabriel’s Crossing with their most common order at the café.” Which, now that she thought about it, wasn’t too flattering.

      “May we come in for a minute?” Brady asked. “We’d like to talk to you about something.”

      “Oh. Well, sure, I guess so.” She stepped to one side. “Come on in. Just be careful—”

      Brady gave her another of those swoon-worthy grins. “We’ll try not to break the floor.”

      “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that as insult. It’s just this house is—”

      He waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy.”

      “You certainly are.” A hot blush raced up her neck and heated her cheeks. Her mouth was out of control tonight. At five-nine, she was unused to having men tower over her. And Brady Buchanon definitely towered. “Have a seat. That little sprite on the couch is Lila.”

      Lila had been staring at the men with the wide-eyed curiosity of a preschooler.

      “Pretty picture,” Brady said as he lowered his oversize frame onto the faded blue sofa next to Lila. Dawson took the only chair in the room, leaving Abby to perch on the other side of Lila. The couch was fuller than it had ever been.

      “I’m making a kiss-mas twee. See? That’s an angel.”

      Brady studied the crayon drawing earnestly. “Almost as pretty as you.”

      “Want to color with me?”

      If the man had a heart, those brown eyes would melt it.

      “Maybe next time, okay? Do you mind if I talk to your mommy for a few minutes?”

      Lila shrugged and scribbled a little harder on her kiss-mas tree. “Okay.”

      Brady gazed over the top of Lila’s head at Abby. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with my family’s business, Buchanon Built Construction—”

      “I am.” Was he joking? The Buchanons practically owned Gabriel’s Crossing. You couldn’t live in this town without seeing one of their white trucks with the big blue logo or passing a sign that announced a Buchanon Built home.

      “Great. Every year our company offers a home makeover to someone in town.”

      “I’ve heard about that. Last year, you remodeled Ted Bickford’s house and built an addition to make room for all their children.”

      Ted and Teresa were kid magnets who had adopted six and fostered as many more on any given day. The people were saints.

      Brady beamed as though she’d awarded him the jackpot prize. “That’s right. We did. Nice family.”

      But what did that have to do with her? “Excuse me a sec, will you? I have macaroni on the stove.” And she hoped it hadn’t boiled to mush.

      “I like macaroni,” Lila said, looking up. “With raisins.”

      Abby laughed a little as she hurried the few steps to the kitchen to drain the pasta. The kitchen-dining area was small, a throwback to the days when microwaves and dishwashers were unheard-of. “Lila would eat rocks if I added macaroni.”

      She turned to reenter the living room only to discover that Brady had followed and now blocked the narrow doorway, as large and intimidating and every bit as beautiful as some mythological warrior. Her pulse did a double step.

      Whoa, what was that all about?

      “My niece and nephew are the same way.” He stepped aside, letting her pass, a movement that brought them in very close contact. Her shoulder brushed his arm. He smelled good, like new wood and Eternity cologne. “Mom cooks T-bone steaks and the kids want macaroni.”

      Disconcerted by the highly unusual skitter of pulse and the hum of blood in her veins, Abby hurried back to the couch. Brady followed, but not before he’d casually leaned in to the kitchen and had a look around.

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