Silent Night, Star-Lit Night (Second Chance at Star Inn)(19)

She smiled as she poured his coffee. “I’ve learned to wait for a message from above, that Holy Spirit nudge that says, ‘Now. Move now. . . .’ Of course, being a bit bossy—”

Lorrie snorted and Angel made a rueful face.

“Being more than a bit bossy,” she admitted, “I’ve made mistakes, but things have worked out after a while.”

He didn’t have a while to fix this because he and Mia were stuck together for the next day, but maybe he could lessen the divide. “I’ll take it slow. I promise.”

“Well, that’s the best promise there is, Jed Taylor. Until we need to move quickly, that is.”

“Women are confusing.”

“We are that.” She handed over a toasted bagel smeared with cream cheese and chopped bacon. “But worth it in the end, I expect.”

He expected that, too, but to what end?

That part he wasn’t sure of.

*

Mia didn’t have to worry about dealing with Jed right away because Reggie put him on snow-clearing detail as soon as he walked in the door. When the west side of town was complete, she sent him to the inn for the chicken pot pie lunch Angel had promised.

By the time lunch was cleaned up and G-G Jude and the kids were resting, Mia figured she might be able to look the kindly cowboy in the face and not die of shame.

“Did you try this carrot cake?” she asked when he approached her mid-afternoon. “It’s amazing. I have to get the recipe.”

“It looks great. So do you, by the way.”

She kept her focus on cream cheese icing and not on nearly six feet of caring and concerned man about twelve inches away. “Well, thank you. I really appreciate that you walked to the car and dragged the bags into town, Jed.” She chanced a glance up. “That was really nice of you.”

He didn’t follow up on last night’s question. He simply offered her a gentle smile, the kind of smile that made a woman’s heart wish for more. “Glad to do it. I told Reggie I’d help on the east-side cleanup crew, but I wanted to let you know where I’d be.” He shifted his gaze down to the curve of the baby. “Just in case.”

“Thank you, Jed.”

He hesitated, gazing at her, as if leaving her to go shovel was hard, and her heart pressed open a little more. “I’ve got my phone with me.”

“Me, too.”

“Okay, then.” He turned to walk out, then didn’t.

He turned around to face her, and then—

Oh, then . . .

Her heart sighed when he moved forward.

So did she.

He pulled her into his arms and held her there, her cheek cradled against his chest, his arms offering the shelter she’d longed for.

His heart beat strong and true beneath her ear.

Strong enough to be gentle.

That was Jed Taylor, through and through.

Would he think her ridiculous for staying with Daniel? Would he understand the hope, and the na?veté, believing he’d reform?

She didn’t know, and she’d learned at a young age not to show weakness. Now the trait was ingrained.

He stepped back finally, tipped her chin up, and smiled. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Me, too.”

“Well.” His smile deepened. A dimple flashed in his right cheek. “Good to know it works both ways, ma’am.”

“It is.”

He tipped the brim of his hat and headed for the door.

She was falling for a cowboy.

Wait. Make the picture even less believable. . . .

She was nine months’ pregnant and falling for a cowboy.

Preposterous.

Yes.

But she’d always longed to be loved and protected, the two things missing from her early life. She’d let Daniel fool her into thinking she was the constant in his life, the home port.

In reality, that’s exactly what she’d been, but Daniel staked claims in multiple ports. Way more than she’d ever dreamed possible, so her gullibility made her an easy launch point.

Her phone buzzed a text. Her father’s number appeared. “When r u coming? Need to sort out Joe’s affairs.”

Her pulse raced from normal to “high” instantly, and her fingers shook as she texted back: “Did Grandpa die?”

She stared at the phone, anxiously awaiting his response, and when it came she understood why the thought of living near her father was anathema. “Not yet. He wants loose ends tied up, is all.”

She was not about to have this conversation on the phone. Or anywhere, if she could help it. She texted back: “I’ll talk to Grandpa when I get there. His comfort is the only thing on my mind.”

Frowning, she clicked “send” and considered the matter closed.

But her father wasn’t one to let anyone else have the last word. “That’s why you visited so often, huh?” He added a skeptical emoji for emphasis, then added: “Like father, like daughter.”

She wanted to cry. Or punch someone.

She was not like him. She was nothing like him, purposely. She’d gotten away from his self-serving nature and his negativity and made something of herself. She wasn’t a school kid, waiting to be pushed around, anymore. She was a degreed professional with advanced life-saving skills.

The sweet notes of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” caroled outside the broad church vestibule. The carillon-style music came from a stone church across the square. The snow-covered bell tower filled the whitewashed town with sounds of the season, the bells ringing out joyous, blended notes of praise.