Silent Night, Star-Lit Night (Second Chance at Star Inn)(2)

This couldn’t be happening.

No one set her timelines for her. Not now. Not ever. Mia Folsom O’Loughlin had taken care of herself as a kid because she had to. She could certainly do whatever proved necessary to take care of herself now. “Jed—”

“Save your breath, Mia.” He didn’t look unkind, but he did look firm, and she knew that when Jed Taylor set a goal, he met it head-on. He always had. “I’m coming.”

Twelve hundred miles of interstate and country roads with Jed.

All that time to reckon with a past she wanted to leave behind and a future so uncertain that she’d sit right down and cry thinking of it; therefore, she refused to think of it. “No talking.”

He hoisted the laptop bag, took the handle of the mid-sized roller from her hand and strode by, wearing an easy air of self-confidence and great-fitting Wranglers. “Odds are ten to one you’ll break that rule by mile five, if for no other reason than it will drive you crazy to have me behind the wheel.”

“You’re not driving.”

He met her gaze, eyed the swell of her middle, then paused. “It’s not a power play, Mia. I just figured you and the baby would be more comfortable and less cramped if you’re not crammed between a steering wheel and a seat back for two days. The passenger seat gives you more room. But if you want to drive, I’m fine with it.”

She hated that he was right. Sitting in cramped spaces brought on more Braxton-Hicks contractions, making the position decidedly uncomfortable.

“It’s up to you, of course.” When she looked up at him she realized that all traces of the rash, spontaneous ranch kid she’d grown up with had disappeared. A man’s gaze met hers. She read empathy in his gentle expression. “I’m here to help. And earn points with Santa Claus.” He winked. “Six more days, Mia, and I’m going to do my best to get something besides a lump of old-fashioned Washington coal in my stocking.”

The Hallmark-style image of filled stockings, decorated Christmas trees, and a bountiful table teased her.

Christmas at the Taylors’ would most likely reflect heart-stirring television commercials.

She’d never known holidays like that. Her father wasn’t welcome most places, which meant she wasn’t invited by default, a harsh way to grow up. Half the family and several friends blamed Ray Folsom for the one-car crash that took her mother’s life.

Was Mia’s father to blame?

The local D.A. didn’t press charges, but that didn’t mean Ray was off the hook with his wife’s family. Auntie P. had done her best to make things nice, and Grandpa Joe had been Mia’s gentle reprieve in a hot mix of dysfunctional crazy.

“How’s Grandpa doing, Jed?” She pulled the door shut behind her, and tested the lock before she moved ahead. “He won’t tell me straight, so I’d like it if you would.”

“It’s bad.” He followed her down the concrete walk. Her landlady had edged the summer-like yard with candy-cane-colored pinwheels. They looked odd against the green grass and flower beds. But then blooming flowers in December seemed out of place to a woman brought up in the northern latitudes. “It’s good you’re coming home, Mia.”

She heard the timeline in his voice and knew she’d made the right decision. When Auntie P. had texted her the words “stage four,” Mia started planning the trip despite her looming due date.

She didn’t want to lose Grandpa Joe. He was a stubborn old coot, but he was her stubborn old coot. She wanted him around to see his great-grandchild, to tell this baby stories about wide-open range and campfire coffee brewed beneath star-soaked skies.

She wanted her grandfather to live.

She didn’t need more stress, darkness, or loss in her life. She’d had her share this year, thank you very much.

Maybe more than your share because of choices you made. Maybe you jump in, both feet, needing to fix things that will never be fixed. It might be time to move forward.

She moved to her car, clicked the fob, and shoved the internal caution aside.

She was a skilled trauma nurse, a calm, efficient disaster responder, and soon she’d be a mother.

She’d juggled before. She would juggle again. She’d been doing that balancing act for a very long time and Mia O’Loughlin was pretty sure she’d perfected the maneuvers.





Chapter Two

Jed dealt with combustible situations on a regular basis. Equipment gone bad, three sisters, irate bulls, and one grumpy old man telling his partners how to do everything better.

But Mia wasn’t just combustible. She was downright explosive and trying to hide the emotions, like she’d always done, growing up.

She’d thought Jed was reckless back in the day.

He might have been, a little. But not enough to fret over, and Mia liked to fret.

He did a mental fist pump as she climbed into the passenger seat. Score one for the sensible cowboy and cramped seating conditions.

She pulled out an upscale phone and hit a GPS app. Within seconds the phone had downloaded directions taking them up the coast, across Oregon, and into the Kittitas Valley of Central Washington.

Taking them home.

“Have you got everything you need?”

She set the phone on the small console between them and nodded. “Yes. Why?”

He swept her baby bump a quick glance. “You’ve got everything you might need for you and the baby in that one small bag?”