A Cold Creek Christmas Story. RaeAnne Thayne

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СКАЧАТЬ hadn’t been home, so Flynn had been left to tend her scrapes and bruises and help her get back to the Star N up the road.

      Things like that stuck in a guy’s memory bank. Otherwise he probably never would have made the connection between the author of his daughter’s favorite book, Sparkle and the Magic Snowball, and the shy girl with long hair and glasses he had once known in another lifetime.

      He wouldn’t be here at the library if not for Celeste, actually. He had so much work to do clearing out his grandmother’s house and really didn’t have time to listen to Dr. Seuss, as great as the story might be, but what other choice did he have? Since leaving the hospital, Olivia had been a pale, frightened shadow of the girl she used to be. Once she had faced the world head-on, daring and curious and funny. Now she was afraid of so many things. Loud noises. Strangers. Crowds.

      From the moment she’d found out that the author of her favorite book lived here in Pine Gulch where they were staying for a few weeks—and was the children’s librarian, who also hosted a weekly story hour—Olivia had been obsessed with coming. She had written the date of the next event on the calendar and had talked of nothing else.

      She was finally going to meet the Sparkle lady, and she couldn’t have been more excited about it if Celeste Nichols had been Mrs. Santa Claus in the flesh.

      For the first time in weeks she showed enthusiasm for something, and he had jumped at the chance to nurture that.

      He glanced down at his daughter. She hadn’t shifted her gaze away from Celeste, watching the librarian with clear hero worship on her features. She seemed utterly enchanted by the librarian.

      The woman was lovely, he would give her that much, though in a quiet, understated way. She had big green eyes behind her glasses and glossy dark hair that fell in waves around a heart-shaped face.

      She was probably about four years younger than his own thirty-two. That didn’t seem like much now, but when she had crashed her bike, she had seemed like a little kid, thirteen or so to his seventeen.

      As he listened to her read now, he remembered that time, wondering why it seemed so clear to him, especially with everything that had happened to him since.

      He’d been out mowing the lawn when she’d fallen and had seen her go down out of the corner of his gaze. Flynn had hurried to help her and found her valiantly trying not to cry even though she had a wide gash in her knee that would definitely need stitches and pebbles imbedded in her palm.

      He had helped her into his grandmother’s house and called her aunt Mary. While they’d waited for help, he had found first-aid supplies—bandages, ointment, cleansing wipes—and told her lousy jokes to distract her from the pain.

      After Mary had taken her to the ER for stitches in her knee and he had finished mowing for his grandmother, he had gone to work fixing her banged-up bike with skills he had picked up from his mother’s chauffeur.

      Later that day, he had dropped off the bike at the Star N, and she had been almost speechless with gratitude. Or maybe she just had been shy with older guys; he didn’t know.

      He had stayed with his grandmother for just a few more weeks that summer, but whenever he had seen Celeste in town at the grocery store or the library, she had always blushed fiercely and offered him a shy but sweet smile.

      Now he found himself watching her intently, hoping for a sight of that same sweet smile, but she seemed to be focusing with laser-like intensity on the books in front of her.

      She read several more holiday stories to the children, then led them all to one side of the large room, where tables had been set up.

      “I need all the children to take a seat,” she said in a prim voice he found incongruously sexy. “We’re going to make snowman ornaments for you to hang on your tree. When you’re finished, they’ll look like this.”

      She held up a stuffed white sock with buttons glued on to it for eyes and a mouth, and a piece of felt tied around the neck for a scarf.

      “Oh,” Olivia breathed. “That’s so cute! Can I make one, Dad?”

      Again, how could he refuse? “Sure, if there are enough to go around.”

      She limped to a seat and he propped up the wall along with a few other parents so the children each could have a spot at a table. Celeste and another woman with a library name badge passed out supplies and began issuing instructions.

      Olivia looked a little helpless at first and then set to work. She seemed to forget for the moment that she rarely used her left hand. Right now she was holding the sock with that hand while she shoved in pillow fluff stuffing with the other.

      While the children were busy crafting, Celeste made her way around the tables, talking softly to each one of them.

      Finally she came to them.

      “Nice job,” she said to his daughter. Ah, there it was. She gave Olivia that sweet, unguarded smile that seemed to bloom across her face like the first violets of springtime.

      That smile turned her from a lovely if average-looking woman into a breathtaking creature with luminous skin and vivid green eyes.

      He couldn’t seem to stop staring at her, though he told himself he was being ridiculous.

      “You’re the Sparkle lady, aren’t you?” Olivia breathed.

      Color rose instantly in her cheeks and she gave a surprised laugh. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

      “I love that story. It’s my favorite book ever.”

      “I’m so happy to hear that.” She smiled again, though he thought she looked a little uncomfortable. “Sparkle is pretty close to my heart, too.”

      “My dad bought a brand-new copy for me when I was in the hospital, even though I had one at home.”

      She said the words in a matter-of-fact tone as if the stay had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He knew better. She had spent two weeks clinging to life in intensive care after an infection had ravaged her system, where he had measured his life by each breath the machines took for her.

      Most of the time he did a pretty good job of containing his impotent fury at the senseless violence that had touched his baby girl, but every once in a while the rage swept over him like a brushfire on dry tinder. He let out a breath as he felt a muscle flex in his jaw.

      “Is that right?” Celeste said with a quick look at him.

      “It’s my very favorite book,” Olivia said again, just in case Celeste didn’t hear. “Whenever I had to do something I didn’t want to, like have my blood tested or go to physical therapy, I would look at the picture of Sparkle on the last page with all his friends and it would make me feel better.”

      At Olivia’s words, Celeste’s big eyes filled with tears and she rocked back on her heels a little. “Oh. That’s...lovely. Thank you so much for letting me know. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

      “You’re welcome,” Olivia said with a solemn smile. “My favorite part is when Sparkle helps the animals with their Christmas celebration. The hedgehog is my favorite.”

      “He’s СКАЧАТЬ