A Husband for Christmas

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A Husband for Christmas Page 21

by Gail Gaymer Martin


  With that sobering thought, she nevertheless managed a cheery farewell, and spun toward the door, away from Luke Hunter’s probing gaze.

  “Oh!”

  Tottering dangerously, her attempt at a poised exit faltered as the dog she’d tripped over leaped aside with a pitiful yelp.

  Luke caught her by the upper arm with a steadying grip. “Are you okay?”

  Warmth crept into her cheeks as she stared for a too-long moment into his intense blue eyes, her heart beating at an erratic clip. Then, with a self-conscious laugh, she slipped free of his grasp and stepped away, once again secure on her own two feet. “I’m fine, so you can relax. I’m not the suing type.”

  He looked momentarily taken aback. Then glanced down at the German shepherd that had retreated behind his master. “It’s fortunate, then, that Rags isn’t, either.”

  Shouldn’t that quip have been accompanied by a smile? But she didn’t spy so much as a trace of a grin on his face.

  Nevertheless, she knelt down to call softly to the dog and, after only a moment’s hesitation, he trotted to her, tail wagging, to be petted. “Sorry, big guy.”

  Amends made, she rose to her feet once more, only to be caught off-guard by an unexpected sadness in Luke’s eyes. She’d stepped on his dog, tossed out ill-received lawsuit humor and made peace with the pup. Surely none of those things had wounded his feelings.

  But he didn’t look inclined to share his thoughts, so she bid him a hasty adieu and departed.

  Once outside, she paused to catch her breath and take in the hodgepodge of older stone and frame buildings along the tree-lined road. Some snuggled against each other as if for mutual support, others were stand-alones with towering ponderosas pressing in close. A few, obviously vacant, stared almost forlornly at their more fortunate, occupied neighbors. But despite evidence to the contrary, Delaney sensed the promise of renewed life in the community.

  A life she hoped to tap into this summer.

  Her heart lightening, she angled across the road to her new home, then trotted up the steps. The summer held so much potential, a freedom she hadn’t experienced since college graduation. And who was to say she couldn’t arrange to bump into Luke Hunter more frequently than anticipated? After all, this was a small town.

  And he did have amazing blue eyes.

  No wedding ring, either.

  She snatched up a flier tucked into the edge of the door, then inserted the key in the dead-bolt lock. If she could somehow banish that cheerless look she’d glimpsed and coax out a few smiles, the summer might be especially fun.

  But she’d barely gripped the doorknob when a shadow emerged from the corner of her mind, halting her flight of fancy. With a sigh, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Would she never learn? As Aunt Jen often reminded, when something—or someone—looked too good to be true, it usually was.

  * * *

  Standing in the shadows, Luke held aside the office curtain and gazed toward the property Delaney Marks would be occupying for the next three months. She’d unlocked the door, briefly disappeared inside, and was now pulling a suitcase out of the backseat of her car.

  “You’re not going to believe this, big guy,” he said to the dog seated at his feet. “She’s moving in already.”

  Big guy. That’s what his wife had called Rags from the time he was a tiny puppy. Odd that Delaney called him that, too, though he wasn’t the largest of his breed.

  Luke’s gaze lingered as the new tenant tucked a floral sleeping bag under her arm and dragged an oversize pink suitcase up the porch steps. Talk about an optimist. She was eager to stretch her wings. To reach for her dreams. To taste all life had to offer.

  He’d been like that once. A long time ago.

  But watching her now, bubbling with energy and excitement, made him feel...old.

  With an almost cheerful announcement that she was currently unemployed due to a layoff, she nevertheless hadn’t flinched when writing a substantial check. And when he’d requested ID, she’d handed him a Golden State driver’s license that confirmed his suspicions—she’d be only twenty-seven come August. But her birthdate also served as a reminder that nineteen years ago when he’d left Hunter Ridge, thinking that at age eighteen he was rough and tough and all grown up, she’d barely reached the tender age of eight years old.

  Practically a baby.

  Yeah, she was a pretty, vivacious little thing and it had been a long time since a woman had caught his eye. But he was an old codger in comparison. A father of two teens and an eight-year-old, a man weighed down with responsibilities that a young woman would want no part of.

  “She’s as close to my son’s age as she is to mine,” he said aloud with a shake of his head.

  The dog bumped against his leg as if in sympathy, and Luke noticed Delaney had returned to the car to haul out a box from the passenger-side front seat.

  “I should go over to help her unload, don’t you think?” he said to Rags. “That would be the neighborly thing to do.”

  But before he could turn away from the window, a white minivan with a Christ’s Church of Hunter Ridge logo pulled up next to her car. One of Luke’s cousins—a younger bachelor cousin—hopped out of the driver’s side with a welcoming smile.

  Garrett, who already had to beat women off with a stick.

  “Just as well.” Luke tugged the curtain back into place. Despite the not-so-subtle signals that she wouldn’t be opposed to getting to know him better, he’d steer clear of Delaney Marks.

  He drew in a heavy breath as a too-familiar weight settled in his chest. No cradle robbing for him.

  Besides, what kind of woman would take to a man who’d as good as wished his wife dead?

  Copyright © 2015 by Glynna Kaye Sirpless

  ISBN-13: 9781460388693

  A Husband for Christmas

  Copyright © 2015 by Gail Gaymer Martin

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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