“Guess you proved them wrong.”
“That was the plan.”
The response came out more tersely than she’d intended, but Jason didn’t seem the least bit fazed. “Good for you.”
Flashing her an encouraging smile, he offered his arm, and for some insane reason she took it. The old-fashioned gesture seemed appropriate for him while standing in this old building, dressed like someone who spent his days working hard. Now that she thought about it, he reminded her of the guy on the wrapper of her paper towels.
Only this lumberjack had a real twinkle in his eyes, and he’d managed to get past her usual defenses without any effort at all. That could only mean one thing: he was trouble. And she’d had enough trouble lately to last her the rest of her life.
* * *
Amy Morgan was still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, Jason thought while he inspected the progress Fred had made on the set pieces. Some were partially assembled, but others lay in a heap backstage with hand-drawn schematics thumbtacked to them. Everything was still in raw form, with no paint or details at all.
It was a big job to complete in only three weeks, and with the holiday shopping season in full swing, it was all hands on deck filling custom orders at the mill in time for Christmas delivery. While he’d much rather be back in Oregon logging, his first obligation was to the family business. It wasn’t only Jason and his brother relying on it now. A dozen other people worked there, too, and closing the doors wasn’t an option for any of them.
But if he didn’t take on Amy’s project, who would? Everyone was busy this time of year, and being single, he had more spare hours than most. Each day she spent trying to find a handyman was another day of lost build time. If he didn’t step up, when someone finally did it might be too late, and she might have to cancel the show. Some of those kids were probably the same way she’d been, working hard and eager to get their turn in the spotlight. He’d feel awful if they lost out and he could’ve done something to prevent it.
“I know there’s a lot to do,” she lamented with a worried look. “Uncle Fred’s collision shop just lost a good mechanic to that new chain over in Cambridge, and he’s been working extra hours to keep up. He fit this in whenever he could.”
“Yeah, it’s tough.”
She seemed to think he was framing a no, and she stepped forward with desperation clouding her china-doll features. “I can pay you for your time. It wouldn’t be much, but you could use it to buy some nice Christmas presents for...whoever.”
For some crazy reason, Jason got the feeling she was trying to determine if he was unattached. He couldn’t imagine why she cared, but women were funny that way. A guy just asked you straight out if you were seeing someone, while a woman skirted the direct route and snuck in sideways. One of the many reasons he avoided getting tangled up with anyone in particular. He liked his nice, uncomplicated life just the way it was. Drama—especially female drama—he could do without.
Recognizing she was in a tight spot, in the spirit of the season he decided to give her a break and not yank her chain. “My shopping’s done, so I don’t need the money.”
Her dainty mouth fell open in a shocked O. “Are you serious? Everyone needs money.”
“I’ve got a little more than enough.” Grinning, he added, “And I don’t have a...whoever, so I’m good.”
That got her attention, and he watched curiosity flare in those stunning eyes of hers. Crystal-blue, with a lighter burst in the center, they made him think of stars. Wisps of light brown hair had escaped her loose bun, framing her face in a halo of curls. Dressed in pale gray trousers and a white sweater, she brought to mind the angel on top of his parents’ Christmas tree.
Dangerous, he cautioned himself. It was okay to admire a woman in a general way, but when he started comparing her to heavenly beings, it was time to take a giant step back and get a grip. Then again, the adorable ballerina she’d once been had stayed in his memory for twenty years. Gazing down at her now, he saw none of the joy on display in the framed photos on the wall. In its place was a lingering sadness that tugged at his heart, making him want to come up with a way to make her smile like that again.
And so, against his better judgment, he held out his hand. “I’m your guy, Amy. I promise not to let you down.”
She looked at his hand warily, then said, “The last time a man said that to me, it didn’t end so well.”
Laced with wry humor, her comment made him laugh. “He was a moron, and if I knew his name, I’d go tell him so.”
She studied him for a long moment, then her somber expression lightened just a little. It was such a subtle change, he couldn’t help wondering if she’d actually forgotten how to smile. “You know, I believe you. I’m not sure why, but I do.”
“About the talking-to or about not letting you down?”
“Both.”
Taking his hand, she sealed their deal with a shake that was surprisingly firm for someone so petite. Jason got the distinct impression that something important had just happened to him, but he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. One thing was certain: he wouldn’t be bored this Christmas.
The thought had just floated through his head when the sound of jingling bells announced another visitor at the front door. When he glanced over, he had to look twice. From where he stood, it looked like a larger-than-life nutcracker in a flashy soldier’s uniform was bobbing through the large front room on its way toward the stage. When it got closer, he was relieved to see that underneath it were very human feet, clad in tie-dyed sneakers that were a dead giveaway about who’d come in.
“Hey, you,” he greeted Jenna Reed, the town’s resident artist, with a chuckle. “Who’s your friend?”
When she set it down, he noticed it was almost as tall as Amy. “The nutcracker prince, of course. He’s not as big as the signs I made for the sawmill, but he’s got a lot more personality.” Turning to Amy, she said, “I know he’s not up to the standards you’re used to in the Big Apple, but what do you think?”
“It’s perfect for this show,” Amy replied with an approving smile. “And you shouldn’t sell yourself short. This guy is just what I had in mind.”
“Awesome.” Jenna eyed Jason with curiosity. “No offense, JB, but I’m used to seeing you out at the mill. You look a little outta place in here.”
“Finishing up Fred’s sets.”
“I forgot he hurt himself tackling your nephew,” she said to Amy. “How’s he doing?”
“Aunt Helen has all she can manage just keeping him off his feet,” Amy explained with a sigh. “The doctor said he needs to take it easy for at least a couple of weeks. It’s only been two days, and he’s already driving her crazy.”
Jason knew how he’d feel if he was laid up for that long, and inspiration struck. “Maybe I can knock down some of the pieces for him to assemble and paint at home. That’ll give him something to do, and your aunt can keep her sanity.”
Amy stared up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite peg, and he worried that he might’ve overstepped his bounds. Then she gave him a grateful smile, as if he’d come up with the answer to every problem she’d ever faced. Knowing he’d been the one to coax a smile from this troubled woman made him feel like a hero.
“That’s brilliant,” she said, “but are you sure you want to do that? I mean, you’d be making more work for yourself.”
He shrugged. “No big deal. If he’s happy, maybe he’ll heal up quicker and get back to the garage where he belongs.”
“And out of Aunt Helen’s hair,” she added with a nod. “I like the way you think.”
They were still staring at each other when Jenna interrupted with a not-so-subtle cough. When she had their attention, she shook her head. “Are you sure you guys just met?”
“More or less,” Jason hedged, figuring Amy wouldn’t
appreciate him relating their first-meet story from twenty years ago.
“That’s funny, ’cause from where I’m standing, you’ve got that ‘known each other awhile’ vibe.”
“That’s crazy,” Amy huffed. “Not to mention impossible.”
The artist laughed. “I call ’em like I see ’em. Anyway, at least this time you stumbled across one of the good guys.”
“I thought they went extinct years ago.” There was more than a hint of bitterness in Amy’s tone, and he couldn’t help wondering what had really happened with her ex. Not that it impacted him in any way, of course. He was just curious.
“Not around here,” Jenna corrected her. “I think this is where they all landed.”
“I’ll have to take your word on that one,” Amy retorted as she passed by on her way to somewhere behind the stage that dominated the studio. “I’ve got your check in the office. I’ll be right back.”
Once she was out of earshot, Jenna stepped in closer to Jason. “I’ve gotten to know Amy since she landed here in town this summer, so I’m gonna do you a favor.”
Every trace of humor had left her expression, and he returned the somber look. “What kinda favor?”
“Leave the poor girl alone. You’re not interested in anything serious, and she’s had a really rough time the last couple years. She’s not up to any more heartache.”
“The accident, you mean.”
Jenna’s eyes widened in surprise. “She told you?”
When he repeated the gist of his earlier conversation with Amy, Jenna slowly shook her head. “I knew her a month before she told me any of that stuff. How did you get her to open up so fast?”
“It’s a knack,” he replied with a grin. “People like me.”
“Uh-huh. Well, watch yourself, big guy. Amy’s been through a lot of twists and turns, and her head’s still spinning. The last thing she needs is more trouble.”
“Trouble?” he echoed in mock surprise. “From me?”
“Don’t get me started,” she grumbled, as Amy reappeared at the back of the stage with her check. Jenna took it and without even glancing at it shoved it into the back pocket of her paint-spattered overalls. “Well, kids, it’s been fun, but I left my kiln going. The thermostat’s busted, so if I don’t keep an eye on it, it’ll burn my whole studio down. Later.”
After the door jingled shut behind her, Amy gave him a knowing feminine look. “She likes you.”
“She likes everybody. When you’re a freelance artist, it’s good for business.”
“Are you seriously telling me you’re not the least bit interested in her? She’s gorgeous and perky, and more fun than any three people I know.”
“You’re right about all that,” he agreed, “which is why Jenna and I are friends. But she treats me like an annoying little brother, and that’s fine with me.”
“Why? I mean, most guys I know would fall all over themselves to get her attention.”
In the cynical comment, he got a glimpse of who Amy had become while she’d been working so hard to establish her career. To his mind, it seemed as if she hadn’t enjoyed herself all that much since her early dancing days, at least not on a personal level.
Obviously, she’d spent way too much time with losers who didn’t know a remarkable woman when one was standing right in front of them. Sensing an opportunity to distinguish himself from them, he grinned down at her. “Well, I’m not like those guys. Before this show opens, I’m gonna do everything I can to make you believe that.”
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, and she frowned. “You met me an hour ago. Why do you even care?”
“I just do,” he replied easily, because he honestly meant it. “But if you need more of a reason, call it Christmas spirit.”
With that, he began strolling toward the rear of the stage, stopping when she called out his name. Turning, he said, “Yeah?”
“You’re starting now?”
“Molly filled Paul and me up with one of her farmer’s breakfasts, so I’m ready to go. Thought I’d start by knocking down some of those bigger pieces that are already put together. Then I’ll haul ’em over to Fred’s so he can get started painting. Then I’ll come back and we can go over whatever plans you’ve got for getting all this done. Is that okay with you?”
Clearly bewildered by his quick pace, she slowly nodded. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
She rewarded him with a timid smile, the kind that could sneak into a man’s head and make him forget all kinds of things. Like how he needed to be careful around this woman, because she was fragile and needed time to heal.
The problem was, something about Amy Morgan tugged at the edges of his restless heart in a way no woman ever had. And in spite of his misgivings, he wasn’t convinced he should even try to keep her out.
Copyright © 2014 by Andrea Chermak
ISBN-13: 9781460344156
Her Holiday Family
Copyright © 2014 by Ruth M. Blodgett
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.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Her Holiday Family Page 21
