Книга - The Christmas Stranger

The Christmas Stranger
Beth Cornelison








The Christmas Stranger

Beth Cornelison







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Table of Contents


Cover (#u77744df6-c3b8-5f96-b477-dff923fad58b)

Title Page (#u9064e57a-7b6d-559a-918a-de4b9b8e9e6d)

About the Author (#ulink_7586a388-0073-55e2-93c2-cb0cd6639685)

Dedication (#ue6d67187-24b9-53fb-beed-6f1208dbd416)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




About the Author (#ulink_bf83eb95-8dfa-5059-b579-9def0539fe97)


BETH CORNELISON started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction. Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including a coveted Golden Heart award for romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family. She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 5418, Bossier City, LA 71171, USA, or visit her website at www.bethcornelison.com.


In memory of my grandmother Alice Miles. I miss you and think of you often.

North Carolina holds a special place in my heart because of you.




Chapter One (#ud8cca0fe-afb6-5ed5-a700-34053d763db6)


Ryan’s killer was most likely a vagrant.

With her brother-in-law’s assessment echoing in her head, Holly Bancroft Cole suppressed a shiver. Rubbing her arms, she cast an appraising glance around the Halloween party at the Community Aid Center in Morgan Hollow, North Carolina.

New faces dotted the crowd. But were any of them killers?

A loud cheer turned her attention to the festivities. The center’s volunteers had all dressed up in goofy, creative and occasionally creepy costumes to entertain the city’s homeless and underprivileged children. At the moment, two clowns led the kids on a wild scavenger hunt for candy, while Holly, wearing her bridal gown, oversaw the refreshments. The children’s parents hovered along the walls, as well as a few men who were regulars at the donated clothing room or the center’s soup kitchen. While the party was billed as a children’s Halloween bash, no one had been turned away.

Flipping back her bridal veil for a better view, Holly scanned the unshaven, bedraggled faces of the vagrants who’d gathered this Friday for free hot cider, entertainment and a warm place to pass the chilly October afternoon. Could one of these men have killed Ryan for his watch, wallet and Reeboks?

Apprehension and suspicion crawled up her spine.

Little evidence had been collected at the crime scene just over a year ago when her husband had been murdered and robbed. The local police, including her brother-in-law Robert, called Ryan’s death a tragic, random attack. Robert held out little hope that Ryan’s killer would ever be caught.

But Robert’s gloomy outlook didn’t sit well for Holly. She wanted resolution to the many mysteries concerning Ryan’s attack. She wanted justice. And she needed closure. While she’d come to grips with Ryan’s death and had begun picking up the pieces of her shattered life, she hated all the blanks in the account of what happened the night Ryan was killed.

Maybe the police wouldn’t ever have enough evidence to bring a suspect to trial, as Robert projected. But any tiny shred of understanding would go a long way in settling the nagging questions she had.

“You know, you should have smeared some blood on your face or worn a scary mask.”

Carol Hamburg’s comment yanked Holly from her morose thoughts.

“That wedding dress is great, but you could have come as the Bride of Frankenstein or something.”

Tucking a stray wisp of her blond hair behind her ear, Holly shrugged as she faced the Community Aid Center’s petite director. “I’d considered fake blood, but I really didn’t want to risk getting makeup on the dress. I wore this gown when I married Ryan, and I’ve worn it every year since for Halloween. It’s a tradition.”

“Really? How’d that get started?”

Holly smiled wistfully. “After our wedding, I complained to Ryan about how much the dress cost, to be worn only once. So, frugal and practical man that he was, he dared me to use it every Halloween as my costume.” She paused and sighed. “I almost didn’t put it on today. But I’m glad I did. It makes me feel closer to him.”

Carol blinked her surprise. “I’m just jealous you’re still the same size you were when you got married.”

Before Holly could reply, a loud cry rose over the chatter in the room. She and Carol exchanged a concerned look before moving together in the direction of the commotion. The crowd of curious children, startled mothers and homeless men shrank away from a little boy in superhero pajamas lying on the floor unconscious.

His lips were blue.

Icy horror washed through Holly in concentric waves as the reality of what was happening sank over her.

“Call 9–1–1!” she shouted to Carol as she dashed to the boy’s side and dropped to her knees.

“He’s not breathing!” the child’s mother screamed. The woman dragged the child up by the arms and began pounding on his back.

“Don’t do that!” One of the unshaven men separated from the others and rushed forward. He placed a hand on the frightened mother’s shoulder and met her eyes. “Let me have him.”

The woman hesitated only a second before relinquishing her son to the dark-haired man. “Please! Save him!”

“I’ll do my best,” he replied, his voice deep and calm. He gently laid the boy back on the floor. After feeling for a pulse in the boy’s neck, he leaned close to listen and look for signs of breathing.

Glancing at Holly, he said, “Watch his chest for me. Tell me if it rises.”

Nodding, Holly scooted back to give the man room to work as he angled the boy’s head and blew two breaths in the boy’s mouth.

“Anything?”

Holly shook her head. “I didn’t see it move.”

The man frowned. “Something’s obstructing the airway.”

Quickly he moved to straddle the boy’s legs and stacked his hands on the child’s abdomen. “Come on, sport. Stay with me,” he mumbled as he gave five sharp upward thrusts with his palms. Crawling to the boy’s side, the dark-haired man did a visual check of the boy’s mouth then swept his finger inside. With a deep sigh of relief, he withdrew a piece of hard candy and tossed it aside.

But the boy didn’t move, didn’t draw a breath.

Pressing his lips in a taut line, the man glanced up and drilled a hard glare at Holly. His sky-blue eyes were clear and intense. “You, the bride. Help me.”

Holly blinked, rallying from her fear-based daze. “How?”

“Give him two full breaths in his mouth, five seconds apart, every time I say now.”

She nodded her understanding and scrambled closer as the man started chest compressions. Adrenaline spiked her pulse as she watched the man working to save the young boy.

“Now.” His clear blue eyes met hers, echoing his command.

Holly bent low and covered the boy’s mouth with hers. Blew. Counted five and blew again.

“Good. Just like that.” Jerking a nod, he resumed compressions.

Holly studied the boy now. His lips had regained a bit of their color, but he remained unconscious. She glanced up at his panicked and crying mother. “He’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Why she was so certain, she couldn’t say. It was risky to assure the mother when she didn’t truly know how this rescue effort would go. But a strange assurance and confidence in the man working on the little boy flowed through her, calming her own frayed nerves.

Holly moved her gaze to Carol, who held a cell phone to her ear. With a look, Holly asked for an update.

“An ambulance is on its way. The operator is still on the line,” Carol said softly.

“Now.”

Holly met the man’s eyes briefly before dipping her head to give another breath. Count five. Breath.

As she raised her head from the last puff, the boy coughed, gasped in air.

“Tommy!” his mother cried and tried to hug him.

“Give me a minute,” the boy’s rescuer instructed, sidling between the mother and child. Again he checked the boy’s pulse, lifted his eyelids to check his pupils, examined the child’s fingernails. “Tommy, can you hear me? Can you talk?”

“I want Mommy,” the boy whimpered.

The man smiled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth as he backed up. “She’s right here, sport.”

Holly dropped back on her heels, her muscles going limp with relief. She stared at the man who’d saved the boy, mulling the inconsistencies in his appearance. While she knew better than to judge anyone by how they looked, little about this man fit the profile of the average homeless client who came to the Community Aid Center. Though his cheeks and chin were covered in a few days’ growth of beard like many of the other men the center served, his hair was much cleaner, his beard shorter and his skin healthier. In fact, despite needing a shave and a haircut, the square cut of the man’s jaw, sharp angles of the man’s cheeks and straight nose gave him an ironically patrician appearance.

“Thank you,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. He turned from watching the mother hug her son. “You saved his life.”

Again his bright blue eyes burrowed deep with their cool intensity, stirring an odd swirling in her belly. “No. We did. Together. Thank you.”

Holly shook her head. “I didn’t—”

He wrapped a large hand around hers, and at his touch, the rest of her reply caught in her throat. A warm ripple of sensation skimmed over her. “Yes, you did.”

She dropped her gaze to his tanned hand and wet her lips. “Really, you’re the one who—” Again her words stalled as she focused on the watch peeking out from under the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

She knew that watch, hadn’t seen that watch since the last morning Ryan left for work. That watch had been stolen from her husband the day he’d been attacked, murdered in an abandoned church not far from the Community Aid Center.

Gasping, she jerked a startled frown up to the man as her brother-in-law’s words reverberated in her head.

Ryan’s killer was most likely a vagrant.

Matt Rankin knew that look well. Disgust. Accusation. Contempt.

The exhilaration of having saved the choking boy evaporated under the icy glare from the center volunteer. When he touched her arm, the beautiful blonde bride who’d helped him resuscitate the boy gaped at his hand, her joy and admiration morphing suddenly into something ugly and cold.

“Where did you get that watch?” she demanded, her tone clipped and accusing. As if he had no right to own something of value.

And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he should have sold the watch months ago to help pay for food, his rent, his child support. But he couldn’t bring himself to part with the last thing he owned that Jill had given him.

He tamped down the swirl of emotions that still ravaged him when he thought of Jill’s death and the terrible repercussions that followed. Keeping his tone even, he met the woman’s hard greeneyed stare. “It was a Christmas gift from my wife a few years ago.”

“Your wife?” She narrowed her eyes skeptically, as if being down on your luck and scrimping to make even a scant income meant you could never have had a wife and children, a home and career. A life to be proud of.

“Yes, my wife.” Matt sighed. He didn’t have much to be proud of now, and he couldn’t really blame the woman for her snap judgment. In her position, he might think much the same. But the past few months had taught him how close every person was to living on the street.

His golden life had suffered a chain reaction of tragic blows and shattered.

An ambulance arrived, and the crowd of spectators cleared a path as the rescue workers huddled around the boy and his mother, checking the child’s vital signs.

Matt inhaled deeply, and looking back at the blonde woman, he pushed to his feet.

He dusted his hands off, then extended one to help the bride to her feet.

She glanced at his proffered hand, hesitated, then let him pull her from the floor.

“I’m sorry. I just…My husband had a watch like that one stolen, and—”

“You thought I’d stolen this one.”

She turned away guiltily. “It just startled me to see it. Your watch is just like Ryan’s and—” She huffed and smoothed a hand over the skirt of her wedding dress costume. “Never mind.” She backed away one step, then forced a tight smile. “Thank you…for helping with Tommy. You saved his life.” Her delicate brow furrowed, and she tipped her head. “How…how did you know what to do?”

“Anyone can learn CPR and the Heimlich maneuver. They are valuable skills to have.” Yes, he was being evasive, cryptic, not fully forthcoming. But he didn’t feel like explaining the whole sordid story of his ignoble downfall—which he’d inevitably have to. When he mentioned his medical degree, his career, the question always followed.

How did a successful doctor end up scavenging a meal from a soup kitchen on Halloween?

“Well, thank you. You saved the day.” Her smile was brighter now, more genuine.

Matt’s gut kicked. Her smile transformed her already beautiful face to nothing short of breathtaking. Not for the first time, his own ragged appearance left him feeling awkward and embarrassed. He nodded to the woman and turned to make his way through the crowd. He needed air, and the small room at the Community Aid Center had begun feeling cramped, stuffy.

As he stepped out of the building, the crisp autumn breeze nipped at his lungs and bit his cheeks with a sobering reminder that winter was mere weeks away. If he didn’t want to freeze at night, he’d have to continue renting his ramshackle room at the Woodgate Inn. Which, in turn, meant he’d have to find a new source of income.

The irony of his situation appalled him. He had a medical degree, had graduated top of his class. But thanks to his appearance, his lack of transportation or a permanent address, he couldn’t find a job that paid enough to make his child support payments and also get ahead. The tanked economy didn’t help, either. The few available jobs were grabbed up by mill workers who’d been laid off, or clean-cut, white-collar men taking second jobs to cover their mortgages.

Pulling his collar up against the cold wind blowing off the slopes of the North Carolina Smoky Mountains, Matt squared his shoulders and headed down the street. He was through feeling sorry for himself, finished wallowing in his pain and failure.

He wouldn’t let the tragic turn of fate defeat him. He had to rebuild his life. For his kids.

He’d pull through this black period somehow and get back on his feet. He wouldn’t quit—even if everyone he loved had quit on him.



Tommy’s choking had rattled Holly, and seeing the watch, so much like Ryan’s, on the man at the center had destroyed her interest in revelry. After making sure Tommy would be all right, Holly had sneaked away from the Halloween party and headed to her truck.

She’d already been giving a few hours each month to the Community Aid Center when Ryan was killed. Knowing one of the people she helped at the center could be responsible for the attack on her husband disturbed Holly deeply. She’d almost quit.

But the evil actions of one person didn’t negate the good she was doing or the needs of the children she met at the center. Besides, what if she heard something through her volunteer work that could help the police catch Ryan’s killer?

Over the past several months, she’d learned more about the homeless than she’d ever imagined. And many of her conceptions of who the homeless were and why they were on the streets had been blown out of the water. Many of the people she had helped had high school diplomas or professional skills, but medical bills to treat an illness had depleted their bank account. Or they’d been laid off a job and couldn’t pay their rent. Or they’d fled an abusive situation and had nowhere to go.

A heartbreaking number of the center’s clients were single mothers, struggling to survive and feed their kids. As an elementary school teacher, Holly loved kids, and the needs of the homeless children touched her heart the most. Every child deserved a safe home and a roof over his or her head.

Once she’d reached her Tacoma, she’d decided a brief walk to enjoy the October afternoon and clear her head was in order. She’d left the veil and detachable long skirt from her wedding dress on the front seat and put on a long cardigan over the travel suit portion of the gown.

Now she stood in front of the old abandoned church where Ryan had been killed and realized the church had always been her destination. Before his death, Ryan had driven her by the structure and joked that they should buy it and restore it, as they were doing with the rambling old farmhouse they’d bought outside of town. Holly had only scowled at him. “One neverending, money-pit renovation project at a time, please!”

But Holly had been fascinated by the old church, the beautiful architecture and broken stained glass. The church had been a true treasure, lost to neglect and the elements. Since it was so close to the Community Aid Center, she had walked past the old church many times after she volunteered. She’d made the trip a sort of pilgrimage, a time to remember Ryan and renew her oath to find some truths and give herself closure.

Today, the familiar questions seemed all the more relentless. Why had Ryan been in the old church to begin with? Who had he come across in the abandoned building, and why did that someone bash him on the head, killing him?

Holly noticed white paper tacked to the front door and climbed over the yellow caution tape to read what had been posted on the church door.

Warning! Building Condemned—No trespassing! This building scheduled to be demolished November 1, 8:00 a.m.



Holly’s heart squeezed in disappointment. Demolished? The church might be old and unused, but the architecture was beautiful, and the history attached to the old church was priceless. Why hadn’t the Historical Society stepped in years ago to preserve the church? She hated to think of the loss to the community.

And what about the investigation into Ryan’s murder? If they tore down the building, any remaining clues would be lost forever.

Not that any clues remained. Robert had told her that he and the other officers with Morgan Hollow’s tiny police force had been through the crime scene multiple times and found precious little evidence to explain Ryan’s death.

Holly bit her lip, grieved that tomorrow the church would be gone. An overwhelming need seized Holly to go inside the church one last time, see the room where Ryan had died, look once more for something, anything that could explain his death.

Some enterprising hooligan had smashed the padlock fastening the chain through the door handles. So much for security. Clearly she wasn’t the only person interested in the old church. Drawing a deep breath and ignoring the warning not to trespass, she pulled the front door open and crept inside.

She’d only been inside the church once before, the week after Ryan died, while she’d still been lost in a blinding blizzard of emotions. Though she had visited the property regularly, she knew venturing inside the condemned building was dangerous. Today, that risk didn’t matter to her. The compelling need to feel close to Ryan, search the premises for herself and say a last goodbye urged her forward. This exploration of the old church might be the closest thing she’d ever have to the closure she craved so desperately.

Cobwebs and dust decorated the walls and broken furnishings with an eerie ambience which any host of a Halloween party would envy. Taking baby steps into the shadowed foyer, Holly headed for the staircase. She grasped the wobbly banister, and the steps creaked as she slowly climbed toward the second floor.

Halfway to the top, a step gave way beneath her weight. Her foot disappeared through the rotted wood. She toppled off balance.

Gasping, Holly clutched the shaky railing to right herself. She paused long enough to suck in a calming breath and eye the last few steps warily. She considered her options, but the need to see the upstairs room where Ryan had died compelled her to continue.

Inching closer to the wall, where she hoped the steps had more support, she crept up the last few stairs. Her heart stuck in her throat. The hallway on the upper floor loomed in the shadows, the darkness broken only where watery daylight seeped through open doors. Dust motes swam in those pools of gray light, and Holly focused on the bright spots instead of the darkness. She paused at the first door on the left. The room where Ryan’s body had been found.

Standing in the doorway, Holly gazed into the empty room. Paint peeled from the molding. A gaping hole, where a window had once resided, marred the outside wall. That window, a round piece of stained glass, rested on the floor, propped in a corner.

The room was so still, so quiet—except for her own labored breathing, the pounding pulse in her ears and the occasional coo of a mourning dove from the evergreen tree outside. As a cloud moved away from the afternoon sun, a golden beam poured in through the open hole in the wall and spilled across the floor. The sun lit the stained glass, bringing life to the arrangement of colors.

In the center of the window, a white dove took flight, while all around the bird a dazzling jumble of colors created a brilliant backdrop.

“Wow,” she murmured, stunned by the gorgeous find in the otherwise lonely and dreary old church. Holly stepped farther into the room and squatted in front of the stained glass for a better look. Upon closer examination she discovered the glass piece, unlike the many other windows in the church, was intact. The small window was in almost perfect condition. A bit of cleaning and a new setting would salvage it, and a tiny piece of history would survive.

Holly’s pulse picked up as she formed her plan. If she could somehow get the stained glass to her truck, she could incorporate the window in the ongoing renovations at the farmhouse.

She tried to lift the glass. Her muscles strained, and she got it off the floor…but getting the heavy, fragile window down the steps and to her truck would be a challenge. Especially since she still wore her wedding travel suit. She casually put it back.

If she didn’t save the window, it would be destroyed in the morning when the wrecking crew arrived. She stood and chewed her lip, considering her options.

She paced toward the door, out to the hall, glancing about for something she could put the glass on to slide it across the floor. Or use as leverage. Or…

As she mulled her options, her thoughts darted in a different direction.

Ryan.

He’d have loved this stained glass. What if—

“Is this what you were doing here, Ry—?” Something brushed against Holly’s leg, and she froze.

A dark streak moved in the edge of her vision. Her breath hung in her lungs. She turned slowly, her gaze searching the dim room.

And spotted a scruffy, thin cat staring back at her uneasily. With a low warning meow, the cat scampered from the shadows into the next room. Holly followed the cat, which made its way to a pile of rags heaped in the corner. The cat’s arrival started a chorus of high, thin mewls.

Holly released a sigh, while the stray mother cat tended her kittens. Pulling her lips in a half smile, she edged closer. “Hey, little mama, I won’t hurt you or your babies.”

The cat protested with an unhappy meow and crouched low beside her nest of five kittens. The babies were tiny, their eyes barely open.

Holly’s heart fisted. They’d be killed when the wrecking ball came to raze the old church tomorrow. She had to do something, but the mother cat looked none too pleased to have someone poking around near her brood.

“Easy there, mama. I won’t hurt—”

The scuff of feet cut Holly off.

A long, wide shadow fell over her, and a chill settled in her bones. Gasping, she whirled around.

A tall man with shoulders that filled the doorway blocked her only exit. His face was hidden in shadow. When he spoke, his voice was deep and dark. “What are you doing?”

Staring at the disheveled man who had her cornered in the dark room, Holly immediately conjured Robert’s theory.

Ryan’s killer was most likely a vagrant.




Chapter Two (#ud8cca0fe-afb6-5ed5-a700-34053d763db6)


Holly shoved to her feet, tried to answer.

Her voice stuck in her throat.

“Didn’t you see the sign? This place has been condemned. It’s dangerous.” The man stepped farther into the room, moving out of the shadow that had obscured his face.

Holly recognized the dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes who’d saved Tommy’s life, then disappeared from the Halloween party without a word.

Her scampering pulse calmed a bit, but she kept a wary distance. As he moved closer, she edged away. “I…just wanted…to have a last look. This church is important to me, and…I wanted…needed…”

She huffed a sigh. How did she explain about Ryan’s murder, the questions that needed answers, the closeness she felt to Ryan here? Why should she explain?

She straightened her spine and leveled her shoulders. “Never mind my reasons. I knew the risks and weighed them.”

He gave a negligent shrug. “All right.”

His gaze shifted to the pile of rags where the kittens squeaked and fussed.

Holly cleared her throat. “Why are you here?”

His cool, clear eyes found hers again. “I saw you go in and followed you.”

A prickle of apprehension crawled through her. “Why?”

“Like I said, the place is condemned. It could be dangerous. I didn’t want you breaking a leg and being stuck in here alone.”

She blinked at him, stunned. “Really?”

He angled his head and tugged up a corner of his mouth. “Really.”

Holly’s gaze lingered on his lips, visible despite the growth of several days’ beard. His lips were full, soft-looking…sexy. She shifted her feet, uncomfortable with the track of her thoughts. This man was a vagrant. Rumpled, unshaven, dirty. How could she find anything about him appealing?

Yet she remembered how, back at the community center, his blue eyes and calming touch had stirred a warmth in her belly. She sensed something different about him and puzzled over the source of that intuition.

He nodded to the nest of kittens. “Is this why you came in here? Did you know they were here?”

Holly wiped sweaty palms on her dress, then grimaced. She’d left dirty smears on the skirt. “No. But now that I’ve found them, I can’t leave them to die in the demolition tomorrow.”

“No. I reckon we can’t.”

She raised her chin. “We?”

“I’m at your disposal if you want my help.” When she hesitated, he stuck his hand out. “We met earlier but didn’t introduce ourselves. I’m Matt.”

She took his hand, trembling when his long fingers closed warmly around hers. “Holly.” She thought of the stained glass in the next room and held her breath. “If you’re serious about helping, there is something…”

He tipped his head. “Yeah?”

When she didn’t answer for a few seconds, he crouched by the kittens. The mother cat hissed and ran.

“Mom’s gonna be hard to catch. Harder to transport.” He picked up a kitten and stroked it with a finger. “They look pretty healthy. Too young to be without mom though. We’ll have to wrangle her to go with the babies, somehow.”

Holly appraised Matt more closely. Could she trust him?

His clothes, though well-worn, somewhat dirty and wrinkled, had been high quality when new. She recognized the name brand logo on his shirt pocket and designer cut of his slacks. Turning this incongruity over in her mind, she wondered where he’d gotten the expensive clothes. When he’d smiled, she’d noticed how white and straight his teeth were. Another anomaly among the men typically served at the Community Aid Center. So who was he? What was his story?

Trusting her gut, she squatted next to him and gently patted one of the squirming kittens. “I found a stained-glass window in the next room I want to save, too. It’s pretty heavy, but maybe between the two of us, we could get it to my truck.”

He met her gaze and nodded. “Sure, let’s have a look.”

Holly showed him the stained glass and stood back as he hefted it into his arms with little effort. “Lead the way.”

Taking the steps carefully, keeping near the wall, she led him outside and down the street to her truck. He rested the stained glass on the tailgate while she rearranged some painting supplies in the bed to make room for the window.

“I’m remodeling my farmhouse, and this glass would be perfect in the entry foyer over the door.”

“It is beautiful,” he agreed, settling it on the drop cloth she’d spread out. He dusted his hands and gave her a hard look. “You have someone at your house to help you unload it?”

Holly bit her bottom lip as she thought. “I can call one of my brothers-in-law to come over, perhaps.”

“What about your husband?”

Holly’s heartbeat stumbled, and she swallowed hard before she answered. “He died last year.”

Matt’s face darkened as his eyebrows drew together. “I’m so sorry. I lost my wife a few years ago myself. I know how hard it can be.”

“I’m sorry for you, too.” Her gaze flicked to the watch on his wrist that he’d told her was from his wife. The timepiece would have been an expensive gift. Had Matt come from a wealthy family? He certainly spoke like an educated man. If so, how had he suffered such a reversal of fortune?

“Now, about those kittens…” Matt scrubbed a hand on his chin, his beard making a scratching sound that danced down Holly’s spine with a pleasant shiver.

Holly reached into the truck bed and dumped paint brushes out of a small box. “We can put the babies in here. But the mother won’t come willingly.”

“Exactly. I was thinking we could wrap her up in a towel or one of those rags upstairs. Wrap her tightly like a mummy. It won’t hurt her, but she won’t be able to struggle and scratch us.”

Us. He was using the plural pronoun again.

She frowned. “Matt, I—”

He held up a hand. “I know what you’re thinking, but…you can’t drive and subdue a frightened cat at the same time. If you’re willing to drive me back into town tonight, I’ll put my arms on the line with the scared feline and help you unload the window at your house.”

Holly stared at him, debating his argument, his offer. “What’s in it for you? Why would you do that for me?”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Who said there was anything in it for me? Aren’t you a little tired of the selfish attitude society has come to? What happened to being a good neighbor and helping out for the sake of being nice?”

Holly opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Matt seemed too good to be true. Already today he’d saved a boy’s life without sticking around for the accolades. If she were to believe him, he’d been worried for her safety and come into the abandoned church to make sure she was all right.

Narrowing a skeptical look on him, she pinched his arm. “Are you for real?”

He rubbed the offended spot. “Yeah, and that hurt.”

Holly crossed her arms over her chest. “So you’re not like a guardian angel or something?”

“Afraid not.” He flashed his white smile, a dimple pocking one cheek and his blue eyes twinkling in the afternoon sun.

Holly’s pulse fluttered.

He was undeniably attractive, even with his rumpled clothes and scraggly beard. His eyes were stone-cold sober, and she didn’t smell any alcohol around him. He just didn’t fit any of the stereotypes for vagrants she’d learned over the years.

She shook her head. “You’re not like most of the men that come to the Community Aid Center for help.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.” Sobering his expression, he said, “I understand your concern, though. We just met. You don’t know if you can trust me. The whole safety issue, right?”

She lifted her chin. “A girl has to be careful.”

“You’re right.” He nodded and stroked his chin again. “You could pat me down to check for weapons.” He raised his arms and gave a devilish wink. “But I’m not carrying.”

She returned a grin. “Or I could call my brother-in-law, the cop, to run your name through their computer and get the lowdown on you.”

His smile faltered, and Holly experienced her first real misgivings. Why did mention of the police bother him? She’d been bluffing, but Matt’s reaction spurred her to dig out her cell phone.

Matt sighed and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Go ahead…if it will put your mind at rest.”

Holly dialed Robert’s cell and wasted no time with small talk. “Can you check a name out for me? Matt…” She looked to Matt, lifting her hand to invite him to fill in the missing last name.

“Rankin.”

“Rankin. Matt Rankin. He have a record?”

“Is this for the Center?” Robert asked.

“Uh…yeah,” she lied. “Sorta,” she added to ease her conscience.

“Just a minute.” She heard the click of computer keys and a silent pause. “Nope, no arrests, but—”

“But?”

More clicking keys.

“Ah. He received unemployment checks at one point, so he is in the system. I show a mailing address at the Woodgate Inn. That help?”

“Yes, thank you, Robert.”

Unemployment checks could mean Matt was one of the workers laid off when the local paper mill shut down production, and the Woodgate Inn was low-cost, bare-bones housing near the Community Aid Center. That much of Matt’s story fit.

“Wanna tell me what this is about?” Robert asked.

“Not really. I’ll call you later.” She disconnected the call before her brother-in-law could protest.

Matt lifted an eyebrow, silently asking what she’d learned.

Holly shoved her phone back in her purse and shrugged. “Apparently Matt Rankin has no record.”

He lifted a corner of his mouth, his smile guileless. “Then shall we catch a cat?”



“Stand back.” Matt stood in Holly’s barn, ready to release the mother cat from the wrapping of rags they’d used to secure and transport her to Holly’s home in the country. They’d settled the kittens in a comfortable box-bed with a towel in a safe corner of the barn. Now it was Mama’s turn to see her new home. “She’s bound to be scared and confused. Who knows what she’ll do.”

Holly nodded and inched back as Matt lowered the bundled cat to the floor and began unwinding the rag-wrapping. Already the cat’s nose, poking out of the rags, twitched and sniffed the fresh air, redolent with the scents of straw and fallen leaves. As the bindings around the cat’s legs loosened, she wiggled and sprang free, leaving a gash on Matt’s arm as she vaulted away and scurried out of the barn.

Holly’s green eyes rounded with concern. Rushing to the door, she scanned the yard. “She ran under the front porch.”

“She’ll be fine. She just needs to calm down. I bet in a couple weeks, she’ll be eating out of your hand.” He examined the scratch on his arm and swiped the beading blood on his pants leg. “Speaking of which, do you have food?”

Holly pivoted on her toe and tucked a wisp of her silky blond hair behind her ear. The early evening sun bathed her in a golden light that made her hair shine and the white dress she wore glow with ethereal femininity. She’d asked if he was a guardian angel, but if he were a betting man, he’d wager she was the angel. She sure looked the part.

She blinked and fumbled as if his question surprised her. “Oh, well, I…of course. In fact, I, um…have chili cooking in the Crock-Pot.”

He lowered his brow. “I’m not sure the cat will like anything spicy.”

She tipped her head at an endearing angle. “The cat? I…was inviting you to have some dinner before I drove you back to town.”

“Oh.” Matt shifted his feet uneasily. Being on the receiving end of charity still rankled. But to survive the toughest months recently, he’d had to swallow his pride. “I wasn’t asking for myself. I meant do you have cat food?”

Holly’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, chuckling awkwardly. “Sorry. I thought…but you are welcome to have some chili before you go back to town. I have plenty.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

She waved off his demurral. “It’s the least I can do.”

Matt hesitated. A hot meal in the company of a beautiful woman did sound appealing. But…

He glanced down at his dirty clothes and grubby hands. He hated the slip in his hygiene of late. Without access to a washing machine or a working shower, he’d had to make concessions that made him cringe. He was hardly fit company for Holly in his disheveled and dingy state. His gut churned with disgust, frustration and shame. He hated where his life had ended up, but he had only to think of his children to know he’d make the same choices again if he were in the same position. His needs ranked a distant second to providing a secure, happy, healthy life for Palmer and Miles.

“I, um…” Staring down at his hands, he turned up his palms and ground his teeth together, swallowing the bitter taste that rose in his throat. Humble pie was not a sweet dish for a man who’d once been on top and had the world at his feet.

“You can use the shower off the guest room if you want before we eat.”

He glanced up and found Holly watching him with a genuine openness and warmth.

“And I still have some of my husband’s clothes that I think will fit you. You’re welcome to them. They’re not doing me any good collecting dust in my closet.”

Matt held Holly’s gaze, searched her face. If he’d seen even a hint of pity or hesitation in her expression, he’d have refused. He’d have hit the road.

He’d want to die on the spot.

But her smile was friendly and warm. Honest and unassuming.

“Okay.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and returned a grateful smile. “You’re very gracious.”

“Maybe.” Her grin brightened with a teasing glint. “Or maybe I’m tired of all the selfishness in society and want to be a good neighbor. Like you were for me.”

A happiness Matt hadn’t known in a long time bubbled up from beneath the layers of guilt, frustration and humiliation. A burst of laughter erupted from him. “In that case, I accept. But let me unload the stained glass for you first.”

She winked. “Deal.”

He followed her back to her Tacoma, indulging in a leisurely glance at her slim, swaying hips as she crossed her leaf-strewn lawn.

Holly’s matter-of-fact acceptance was a refreshing change from the condescending glares and judgmental comments he usually received from strangers. Her kindness and honesty stirred a hopeful warmth in his gut. Her simple beauty and girl-next-door smiles awoke a purely male response that heated his blood. And the hint of sadness that lurked in her eyes spoke to the man who’d seen his own share of tragedy and loss.

Matt wasn’t gullible enough to believe in love at first sight, but something about Holly spoke to his soul, and he treasured the opportunity to get to know her better.

Even if he knew their current stations in life meant he had no future with her.



As she chopped a tomato for a salad later that evening, Holly heard the upstairs water cut off. Inhaling deeply, she stared down at the vegetable on her chopping board and worked to clear her mind of the sultry images of Matt in the shower that taunted her. After changing into jeans and a Snoopy T-shirt, she’d left towels, a disposable razor, clean clothes and a few toiletry items on the guest bed for Matt. While he showered, she’d taken his dirty clothes to wash.

Helping Matt felt good. Though she volunteered at the Community Aid Center a couple days a month, dishing up lunch to the masses and reading books to young children didn’t seem as valuable a contribution as giving Matt a chance to clean up and have a hot meal. The personal connection made all the difference.

She’d seen Matt be a friendly, helpful man and been compelled to respond in kind. Considering he had saved Tommy’s life, a shower and supper were the least Matt deserved.

As Holly scraped the chopped tomato onto the salad, her phone rang.

“Hello?” She cradled the receiver between her shoulder and ear, while she started peeling carrots.

“Hey, sis! Happy Halloween!”

The youngest of the three Bancroft sisters, Zoey, sounded as bubbly and full of life as ever. Holly could well imagine Zoey decked out in some outrageous costume befitting her wild and rebellious personality. “Hey yourself. What’s the plan for the Bancroft sisters down in Lagniappe this Halloween?”

“Well, I’m going to a party, but Paige’s wimping out. I tell you, Hol, that stuffed shirt she’s marrying is sucking all the fun outta our sister. She’s trying to conform to some Stepford Wife mentality that he’s brainwashed her with and never does anything without his approval. It’s sick.”

Given that Zoey was prone to hyperbole, Holly didn’t let this report on their newly engaged older sister concern her. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.”

“Oh, but it is! She spends all her time with Brent. I can barely get her on the phone anymore, because he’s keeping her so busy with the most ridiculous wedding details. I mean, who really cares if she wears white stockings or tan? No one sees her legs under her gown anyway.”

“Give her a break, Zoey. When I married Ryan, I wanted everything to be perfect, too. Remember?”

“But at least you spent time with your sisters before you let your husband drag you off to North Carolina.”

Holly laughed. “You make it sound like Ryan brought me to Siberia.”

“Might as well be. I miss not having you here in Lagniappe.”

Holly sighed and experienced a tug of nostalgia for her family home in Louisiana. “I miss you, too, kiddo. Remember, the invite to come see me for Thanksgiving is still open.”

“Thanks, but you know I don’t plan that far in advance.”

That was Zoey—the rebel, the party girl, living in the moment.

Holly sensed the change in Zoey’s mood even before the familiar question came. “How are you doing, Holly?”

In other words, how was the poor widowed sister managing alone? Holly pinched the bridge of her nose and took the question in the spirit it was intended. Her family loved her and worried about her. Especially since Ryan’s murder. They’d been surprised when she’d opted to stay in North Carolina after his death rather than return to her parents’ home in Lagniappe. She may have grown up in Louisiana, but Morgan Hollow and the farmhouse she’d bought with Ryan were her home now.

“I’m fine, Zoey. Really.” Holly heard footsteps on the stairs and added, “And I have company right now, so I need to go.”

“You’re ditching me, too?”

“Sorry. I’ll call you later to hear all about that Halloween party. Meantime, try to cut Paige some slack. Okay?”

“Right.” The resignation in Zoey’s voice gave Holly pause. Was there more going on with her younger sister than feeling abandoned by Paige?

“Bye, sis. Love you.” But Zoey had hung up and silence answered Holly. She replaced the receiver with a sigh and walked back to the chopping board.

“Do you have my clothes?”

Startled by the voice behind her, Holly fumbled the knife and nicked her finger. She set the blade down and turned. “I put them in the washing ma—”

The man standing in the door of her kitchen stole her breath, her thoughts, her balance. Reaching behind her, she caught the edge of the sink, wheezing, “Wow.”

Wow was an understatement. Matt’s piercing blue eyes, Colgate-perfect smile and broad shoulders had only been the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Holly gaped at the man who could have been an L.L. Bean model in another life.

Ryan’s khaki slacks rode low on Matt’s hips, and he’d combed back his damp, collar-length hair from his now clean-shaven face. His narrow feet were bare, and the crisp scent of soap wafted to her from where he stood.

Matt’s brow furrowed. “Something wrong?”

“Uh, no. I…you…Wow. I barely recognize you!”

Matt smoothed a hand down the front of Ryan’s old blue polo shirt. “Thanks for the clothes. You’re sure you want to give them up?”

“They’re not doing me any good in his closet. Someone should use them. Why not you?” She let her gaze take in the breath-stealing sight he made once more, then cleared her throat. “They seem to fit well.”

He tugged at the waist of the slacks and nodded. “Darn close. Thanks.” When he glanced up again, the vivid blue of his eyes, such a stark contrast to his dark hair and tanned skin, hit her with the force of a fist in the gut.

So bright, so clear, so piercing. Yowza.

His eyebrows lowered as he frowned. “Hey, you’re bleeding.”

“Huh?” She glanced down at her hands and saw the blood smeared on her finger. “Oh, that’s nothing. I—”

He moved across the kitchen, his gait smooth and loose limbed. Taking her hand in his, he brought her cut finger up to eye level for inspection. Her pulse thrummed at his touch, and the soapy-clean scent that clung to him teased her nose and left her light-headed.

“Do you have some antibiotic cream or hydrogen peroxide for this? We should clean it.”

Holly snatched her hand back and flashed a nervous grin. “Um, yeah…I’ll get it.”

Drawing deep breaths to calm herself, Holly hurried to the laundry room to fetch her first-aid kit.

“How old are your kids?”

Captivated by the melodic quality of his deep voice, Holly didn’t immediately register the question he’d asked until she returned from the back room and handed him the kit. “I’m sorry. What?”

He motioned to her refrigerator, covered with the artwork of young hands. “I asked about your kids. I saw the drawings and various other cartoon-themed stuff around the house and was wondering about your family.”

“Oh, I…The kid stuff is actually mine. You know the saying, ‘Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional’? That’s me. A big kid.” When he quirked an eyebrow and an amused grin, her cheeks heated, and she returned a sheepish smile. “But I think my active inner child helps me relate better to my students. The drawings are from my class. I teach kindergarten at Pine Grove Elementary.” She paused, a stab of regret pricking her heart before adding, “I don’t have any kids of my own.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a touchy subject.” His soft tone washed over her like a balmy breeze. “I just assumed—” He frowned as he dabbed antibiotic ointment on her cut. “But I should know better than anyone not to assume anything,” he added under his breath.

She lifted a curious gaze to study the knit in his brow as he worked on her finger. “What do you mean by that? That you know better than anyone about assumptions?”

His gaze collided with hers, and she held her breath, mesmerized by the emotions that flickered across his face in rapid succession. “Just that…unsubstantiated assumptions can lead to trouble. False presumptions, my own and other people’s, pretty much destroyed my old life.”

A swarm of questions buzzed in Holly’s brain. Perhaps, like bees, the questions were better avoided. Matt’s history was his own business, not hers.

Holly’s heartbeat thudded a noisy cadence in her ears as Matt deftly wrapped a plastic Scooby Doo bandage around her cut finger. “There. All done.”

As he returned the first-aid items to the box and clicked the clasp in place, curiosity got the better of her. “What happened, Matt? How did you end up on the street?”

His gaze snapped up to hers, bright with emotion. For long seconds, he didn’t answer. He held her stare, his breathing shallow and uneven. As if he felt trapped. Panicked. Edgy.

Had she pushed too far? Crossed a boundary she shouldn’t have?

Finally she broke the spell of his steady gaze and turned away. “Forget it. It’s not my bus—”

“It was more a chain of events really. Like dominoes falling, one thing led to another until I had nothing left,” he murmured, the distant look in his eyes telling her that his mind was back in that place and time when his life took a nosedive. Seeing the pain that dimmed his expression, she regretted her nosiness.

“My life became a runaway train, picking up momentum as it careened toward a final crash and burn. I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

A viselike ache wrenched Holly’s lungs, and empathetic pain flowed through her body.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. She reached for Matt’s hand, wanting him to know she understood loss, if not the full extent of his story.

When her fingers brushed his, then squeezed, Matt’s gaze darted back to hers. He pulled his hand away, slowly shaking his head. “It’s my own fault. None of this would have happened if I’d realized…If I’d known—” A muscle in his jaw jerked as he clenched his teeth and sucked in a sharp breath. “It all started when my wife died…when Jill…killed herself.”




Chapter Three (#ud8cca0fe-afb6-5ed5-a700-34053d763db6)


Holly gasped, and her eyes glittered with moisture. “Oh, Matt. You can’t blame yourself for her death.”

“Sure, I can. And so do plenty of other people.” Matt swallowed hard, choking on the bitterness and grief that swelled in his throat.

“False presumptions…” she murmured.

Matt nodded. He fisted his hands and stepped back.

Why had he said anything? He hadn’t wanted to spoil the camaraderie they’d shared this afternoon. But she’d asked the one question he’d hoped she wouldn’t, and he wouldn’t lie to her. Even if he didn’t tell her the whole truth, the whole sordid story, he owed her an honest answer in return for her kindness.

The endearing pink flush that had stained Holly’s cheeks since he’d come downstairs from his shower now drained from her face, leaving her complexion wan and bleak. Matt hated the sadness and turmoil that crept into her green eyes. His explanation, vague as it was, cast a pall over the friendly meal he’d hoped to share with Holly before going back to town. He’d been looking forward to sharing her company for a couple hours, free of the suspicion and guilt that still dogged him.

The strident ringing of her telephone startled them both out of the morose and awkward moment he’d allowed them to get mired in.

Holly sidled past him. “Excuse me. I should answer that.”

Matt scrubbed a hand over his face and shook off the haunting memories, the sights and sounds of those dark days after he found Jill’s body in his study.

With a shudder, he shifted his thoughts to Holly’s invitation to dinner. Keep it light. Keep it casual. Then get out.

Holly answered the rotary-dial wall phone and tucked it under her ear.

“Oh, hi, Jana,” Holly said, sending him an apologetic look and holding up a finger as she mouthed, “Just a minute.”

He waved off her concern and strode over to the salad she’d been fixing to continue chopping vegetables.

“Thanks, but I have plans tonight. I have company for dinner, then I need to make another quick trip to town. It was an impromptu thing…No, I don’t think you know him.” She flicked a self-conscious glance toward him and nibbled her lip. “It’s nothing like that. Don’t get any ideas. No…I—”

The pink stain returned to her cheeks, and Matt acknowledged again how attractive Holly was. But as lovely as her face and physique were, what really caught Matt’s attention was the sparkle in her green eyes, the glow in her cheeks, the joie de vivre that radiated from her—in spite of her tragic loss.

Her bright disposition was contagious. Being around her, Matt found it easier to be optimistic about his future, and he grew more determined to set his life back on an upward trajectory.

Holly finished her call and pressed a hand to her still-flushed cheek. “That was my husband’s sister inviting me over for the evening.” She curled her lips in an embarrassed grin. “I think the idea that I’d made my own plans for Halloween night shocked her. Ryan’s family has been wonderful about looking out for me since his death, but they seem surprised whenever I make steps toward moving on with my life.”

He acknowledged her with a smile, then dragged a hand along his jaw, hesitating. “Would it be rude of me to ask how your husband died?”

“No, it’s a legitimate question.” She inhaled deeply as she met his eyes. “He was murdered.”

Matt’s pulse tripped. He’d expected anything but that. Cancer. A car accident. Even suicide like Jill. But murder?

“I’m so sorry. That had to have been such a shock.”

She pressed her lips in a taut line, nodding as she turned toward the counter.

“Have they caught the person responsible?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t pushing a touchy subject.

Holly lifted the lid from the Crock-Pot to stir the chili, then paused and shook her head. “No.”

Sympathy speared his chest along with pain, honed razorsharp by his own losses. “I haven’t given up hope that his murderer will be caught one day, but I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that we may never know what really happened. The best the police can figure is he was killed by a mugger who stole his shoes, his wallet and his watch.”

Matt’s gut tightened.

Where did you get that watch?

Flipping his wrist, he extended his arm. “A watch like this one, I take it.”

She glanced up from stirring their dinner, and the color drained from her sculpted cheeks. “I—well, yes.”

Without hesitation, he unfastened the clasp and turned the timepiece over, offering it to Holly. “My wife inscribed mine. You can look if you want.”

She frowned and shook her head. “No, I…I believe you. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

He sighed and squeezed his wife’s gift in his fist. “I just wanted to alleviate any doubt you had.”

Holly bit her bottom lip and, after a brief hesitation, took the watch from him. “To Matt with all my love, Jill,” she read aloud. She turned the watch over and stared at it with moisture puddling in her eyes. “It’s lovely. I know how much you must treasure it.”

He nodded as she handed the timepiece back. “It’s very important to me.”

Primarily as a reminder to him of how he’d failed Jill.

How he’d neglected her because of his work. How he’d taken her for granted. How he’d let her slip into a deep depression without him noticing.

Pushing down the drumbeat of guilt, he rebuckled the strap and inhaled the peppery tomato scent of their dinner. “Dinner smells delicious. What can I do?”

She hitched her head toward the cabinets. “Spoons are in that drawer, by the refrigerator. Everything else is ready, I think. I’ll serve.”

Matt let his gaze roam as he fetched spoons to the table. The airy yellow curtains and cheerful floral wallpaper matched his impressions of Holly. The Big Bird clock and Snoopy cookie jar added a touch of whimsy that left him curious to learn more about the active inner child Holly boasted about. The collection of drawings taped to the refrigerator touched a raw spot inside him, reminding him how much he missed his own children. Not having his children around as they grew up was the hardest thing to accept about his current situation.

But he would change his circumstances, reclaim his children and get his life back on track. Or die trying.

“So you’re a teacher.” Matt paused between bites of chili and salad and gave her an encouraging smile. “Tell me about your class.”

Holly set her spoon down and pressed a hand to the jittery flutter in her stomach. Their get-to-know-each-other chitchat and her fascination with his ruggedly handsome face and brilliant blue eyes made this dinner feel more like a first date than just the good deed she’d intended.

Sure, she could have packed his chili in a disposable container for him to take when she drove him back to town. And she admitted his good looks factored into her decision to serve dinner as a sit-down affair, but—

Heat unrelated to her spicy chili crept up Holly’s neck when other connotations of the word affair waltzed through her mind. She imagined Matt’s startling blue eyes hazed with lust and his full lips drawing close to hers for a kiss…

Holly erased the picture with a quick shake of her head. Clearing her throat, she focused on his question. “I love my class. They’re angels. All fifteen of them.” When he raised his eyebrows skeptically, she amended, “Well, most of them are angels. I do have a couple who are more of a handful. But seeing those eager faces every morning, being around all that childlike innocence and energy keeps me going on days when I’m dragging.” She smiled and took another bite of salad. “I wouldn’t trade my job for anything. Sometimes it feels like I’m getting paid to play all day. I mean, where else could I read stories and color pictures and sing songs and play games, all cleverly disguised to reinforce writing the alphabet and counting and learning to read?” She stabbed a tomato and aimed it at him. “Plus snacks and recess.”

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that tripped pleasantly along her spine. “Sounds like heaven for that inner child of yours.”

“And the mother hen. I can’t wait to have my own kids, but for now, I’ll settle for mothering the fifteen chickadees in my class.”

“I remember my daughter’s first day of kindergarten.” The bittersweet wistfulness of Matt’s expression melted Holly’s heart. “She was so excited to be going to school. Of course, she’s smart as a whip and could already read and write.”

“You have a daughter?” Holly thought of the children at the Community Aid Center. Frustration ballooned in her chest that she couldn’t fix the problems of every family the center served, that children slept in cars or went to bed without supper.

Matt gave her a sad smile. “I have a daughter and a son, Palmer and Miles. Seven and five, respectively.”

“Where…are they?”

He wiped his mouth on a napkin and dropped it in his emptied bowl. “With Jill’s parents just up the road in Iona Falls. Because of my circumstances…they’re better off with their grandparents. For now.” He paused, clamped his lips in a tight scowl. “I haven’t seen my kids in two years.”

A rock settled in her stomach. “Two years? That’s horrible! Won’t they allow you visitation at least?”

“No. There were a lot of hard feelings after Jill died. But…honestly, I don’t want Palmer and Miles to see me like this.”

“But, Matt, you’re their father! They need you in their life regardless of—” She caught herself, unsure how to finish the sentence.

He lifted his eyes to hers, his steely gaze a testament to his determination. “I intend to get them back. As soon as I can. But…I need a better place to live than the run-down apartment where I am now.” He grunted his dissatisfaction. “The Woodgate doesn’t even have working showers in the community bathroom. I can’t subject my kids to those conditions. And I need to find another job.”

Holly seized the opening to do a bit of prying, looking for a way to help Matt. “What kind of job are you looking for?”

He shrugged and gave her an awkward grin. “Anything that pays. I can’t afford to be as picky now as I might have been in my younger days. My kids are counting on me.”

She nodded and rubbed her thumb along her spoon handle as she thought. “Do you have any particular skills or training?”

He held her gaze for a moment, seemed ready to say something but finally sighed and glanced away. “I worked with a construction crew this spring and summer. But the contractor laid off several of us a couple weeks ago when his schedule slowed down.”

Holly sat taller in her chair, her heart hammering. “You’ve done construction? Are you good with renovation work? Drywall, molding, plumbing, that sort of thing?”

He flipped up his palm and blinked. “I suppose. I’m not an expert, but I hold my own.”

Holly bit her bottom lip, calculating, weighing her options, sizing up the uncertainties. An excited flutter stirred in her belly.

She could help Matt. He could help her. The plan was perfect.

“Come work for me.”

Matt’s eyebrows drew together in a skeptical frown. “You?”

“I’m renovating the house, and the process has dragged on far too long already. I want to be done by the end of the year, but my brother-in-law—Jon, not Robert—is doing most of the work and, frankly, he’s been unreliable at best, only showing up half the time and working far too slowly. A pitfall of having a family member doing the job—hard to fire them. But…you could help him,” she said without taking a breath, her hands motioning as she talked. “What with teaching, I only have weekends to give to the project right now and…well, what do you think? I’m redoing the master bathroom at the moment and still need to take out a wall in the study and fix the molding and paint and…well, there’s no shortage of work. I’ll make the arrangements with Jon.”

Matt stared at her, looking a bit pole-axed. “I, uh…I appreciate the offer but…are you sure you want me—?”

“Why not you? You need work, and I need a reliable handyman to finish what’s been started. When my husband and I started these renovations, we had no idea how much work was really needed and how long it would all take.” She was chattering again, gushing without taking a breath, but she couldn’t seem to curb her nervous habit. “The work was fun at first. We spent weekends and vacations hammering and painting and papering, but after Ryan died—” She curled her fingers into her hands, waiting out the stab of pain that assailed her.

“The project lost its meaning,” Matt finished for her. “The fun was gone, but the work was still unfinished.”

Her breath caught, and she gaped at him. He’d nailed it. But how did he know how she felt, where her thoughts were headed?

He lost his wife. He knows. He understands.

Holly nodded. “Yes. Exactly. I just want to be done with it. It’s become more of a burden now than a hobby. Jon, Ryan’s brother, took the job on as a favor to me, but he has other responsibilities. He’s a firefighter for the county department down in Crenshaw, and he works one day out of three, has a girlfriend in Asheville.” Holly paused for a breath, gauging Matt’s expression. Mostly he looked shell-shocked.

She had a way of doing that to people—overwhelming them with her chattering, her openness. Her blind trust in the goodness of people worried her family, but her gut instincts had never let her down. Even Ryan, Mr. Methodical Thinker, had learned to trust her sixth sense about people and impromptu plans.

“Will you help me? I’ll pay you what I would pay a contractor. I’ll talk to Jon about it and make all the arrangements.”

Matt opened and closed his mouth, speechless for the moment. “I…don’t have a car or any way to get out here every day.”

“Oh.” She gnawed her lip some more as she thought. “Well, I’ll come get you on the weekends and drive you back to town when we’re done for the day. And I could pick you up around three o’clock when I leave the school, so you could get about four hours of work done in the evening. I’ll fix us dinner, then take you home.”

He still looked dubious. “That’s a lot of driving back and forth over the mountain for you. Are you sure about this? Why would you do this when you don’t even know me?”

Holly rocked back in her seat, rattled. “I thought it was a good solution to both our problems. I…I’ve already had Robert vet you. You don’t have a record. You could give me the name of the guy you worked for this summer for reference, and…I plan to check you out through the Community Aid Center records. But…” She smiled. “I’m guessing I won’t find anything worrisome. You seem like a good guy to me.”

He returned a lopsided grin. “I try.” Lifting a shoulder and giving his head a befuddled shake, he offered her his hand. “All right. Pending your reference check and consult with Jon, I accept. With gratitude. I will finish your renovations for you.”

“Great.” Holly’s grin rose from somewhere deep inside her and blossomed on her lips. This plan felt right. “You can start tomorrow.”



After dinner, Holly gave Matt a quick tour of the house, showing him what she’d already accomplished and what needed to be done. Based on the state of the unfinished rooms, Holly and her late husband had been ambitious and visionary in tackling the old farmhouse. But the transformation was amazing. Holly had breathed new life into the old house and made it a warm home.

Matt followed Holly up the curving staircase, admiring the polished wood railing and beautifully sculpted posts. He found himself caught up in Holly’s enthusiasm for the project and the allure of transforming the house, restoring it to its previous glory.

The guest bathroom where he’d showered had new brass fixtures and white tile but no wallpaper, and the carpeting in the halls was threadbare and ratty. Clearly floor coverings were a final step, once the other work and painting were finished.

“In here.” Holly flipped on the light in the master bedroom, and his attention gravitated to the king-size bed that monopolized most of the floor space. The covers were unmade and rumpled as if she’d just tumbled out after a restless night. A light floral aroma hung in the air and teased his senses. He could too easily imagine Holly’s lithe body tangled in those sheets, and his thoughts strayed to the hidden pulse points where she’d dabbed her flower-scented perfume.

A hot throb of desire coalesced low in his belly, and his body tightened. Gritting his teeth, Matt diverted his gaze, fighting the surge of his libido. No matter how attractive he found Holly, no matter how long it had been since he’d been with a woman, he had to keep his physical interest in his new employer firmly under control. Holly had placed a mountain of trust in him by hiring him, and he wouldn’t do anything to betray that trust.

He appraised the rest of the room in a glance. Judging from the plush blue carpet and ornate crown molding, the renovations of the bedroom was complete.

“We did this room and the kitchen first, since we use them most,” Holly said, confirming his suspicion. “But plumbing intimidated Ryan, and we put off doing the master bathroom. And put it off. And put it off.” She turned on the bathroom light and stepped back for him to enter. “But its time has come. I’m ready to tackle the bathroom, whatever it takes.”

Matt surveyed the stained linoleum floors and ancient fixtures. Outdated wallpaper peeled from the walls and hung limply over the cracked mirror. He had his work cut out for him. But he could do the job. His duties with the crew this summer had included plumbing work and basic tiling.

No problem.

But he’d get a how-to book from the library, just in case.

“So that’s about it.” Holly jammed her hands in the back pockets of jeans that fit her like a second skin. “By my estimates, we can be done by mid-December, Christmas at the latest, barring any snafus.”

Matt winced and held up a finger. “Hey, don’t even mention snafus. You’ll jinx us.”

Chuckling, Holly hit the light switch and backed through the bathroom door. “Don’t tell me you’re superstitious.”

“Let’s just say I’ve had enough bad breaks to know better than to tempt fate.”

“Touché,” she tossed over her shoulder as she glided toward the bedroom door.

Matt fell in step behind her, then hesitated when a picture on her nightstand caught his eye. A wedding portrait.

Pricked by curiosity, he eased closer to her bed and bent to get a closer look at Holly, wearing the same dress she’d donned as a costume for the party today. Her sculpted face had been captured skillfully by the photographer’s lens. Her hair and makeup perfect, she positively glowed. But what truly made Holly beautiful was the love in her eyes as she beamed at her husband.

Matt gave the man a cursory glance.

And froze.

Recognition tickled his spine, and icy fingers of shock and dread squeezed his chest. Matt’s limbs felt leaden. His blood roared in his ears.

If he could point to one person who had caused him the most trouble, the most anguish, the most loss in his life, he’d have to point to the man in Holly’s wedding picture.

Had Holly told him her last name? Should he have figured it out before now?

Matt shook his head, struggling for oxygen. Fighting back the bitter taste of bile that rose in his throat.

He’d told Holly he’d help her with renovations. They’d shaken on it, and Matt wouldn’t go back on his word. He wouldn’t break the trust she’d placed in him.

Even if Holly’s late husband had ruined Matt’s reputation and destroyed his life. Ryan Cole was the ruthless ADA who’d disputed Matt’s sworn statement that Jill’s death was suicide and prosecuted him for murder.




Chapter Four (#ud8cca0fe-afb6-5ed5-a700-34053d763db6)


“Jeepers, my arms are killing me!” That Saturday, Holly rolled her tired shoulders and shook the ache from her arms. After almost two hours of reaching above her head, scraping the stubborn old wallpaper off her bathroom walls, her muscles throbbed. She glanced across the small room, where Matt tackled the hard-to-reach parts of the wall behind the claw-foot tub. “This is taking way longer than it should. What did they use to glue this paper up, anyway? Some revolutionary super epoxy?”

He grinned up at her from his awkward position on the floor. “My dad used to say, ‘You can do it quickly, or you can do it right.’ Quality work takes time.”

“Your dad must have known my husband. Ryan was a perfectionist.”

When she mentioned her husband, Matt stilled, his mouth tightening slightly before he forced a grin and turned back to the wallpaper in the corner. She’d noticed a similar reaction earlier in the day and mentally bit her tongue. She probably talked about Ryan too much, especially considering Matt had lost his wife not too long ago. Perhaps the reminder of her late spouse stirred painful memories for Matt of his loss. She’d have to be more careful about raising touchy subjects.

After stretching the muscles in her hand, she picked up her scraper and attacked the dingy, stuck-on wallpaper again.

“Tell me about your family,” Matt said, breaking the awkward silence a moment later. “You said earlier you moved to Morgan Hollow when you married Ryan. Where is your home?”

“Well, I consider Morgan Hollow home now. But my family is in Lagniappe, Louisiana. That’s where I grew up.”

Matt propped on one elbow to glance up at her and wrinkled his nose. “Lan…yap? That’s kind of a funny name for a town.”

She laughed. “Lagniappe is a Cajun French word that means something extra. It’s a great place to live, to raise a family, to grow old.”

Matt turned up a palm. “So why haven’t you moved back?”

She drew a deep, thoughtful breath. “I’ve considered it. But…it felt like a step backward somehow. Like admitting defeat after Ryan died.” Her gaze darted to Matt’s when she realized how quickly she’d broken her silent pledge not to keep bringing up Ryan. But Matt stared at a spot on the side of the bathtub, his gaze distant, so she continued, “Besides, I love this old house—pain-in-the-butt that the renovations are—and I have a job here I love, so…”

Her gaze connected with his, and the brilliant blue shade of his eyes stole her breath. How could she forget from one moment to the next how stunningly bright and piercing his eyes were? A tingle raced through her blood, and she let her gaze drift to the angular cut of his jaw, dusted again with dark stubble, and the definition of his muscled arms. Matt Rankin positively exuded masculinity, and the confines of her tiny bathroom only made Holly more aware of the man in her presence.

“Don’t you miss your family?” he asked, his voice pitched low.

She shook herself from the thrall of his sexy lure and focused on his question as she returned to scraping. “Sure. I’m especially close to my sisters, but we talk on the phone all the time. I go back to Lagniappe for special occasions. My older sister, Paige, just got engaged, so there’ll be bridal showers and her wedding coming up…plenty of reasons to head back to Louisiana for a long weekend here or there.”

“And your parents?”

“Dad is the founder and CEO of Bancroft Industries, a medical research company. He plans to retire in the next couple of years, and he’s been grooming Paige’s fiancé, Brent, as his replacement. He and Mom have been married for forty years, and they’re just as much in love today as they were when they got married.” She paused and rubbed her aching shoulder. “As much as I love my folks, they can be a little bit overprotective. It was actually kind of nice to move to North Carolina when I married Ryan. As a newlywed, I needed a little breathing space. My parents mean well, but they would’ve tried to run my life and Ryan’s for us.”

“Your family sounds great. You’re lucky to have their support.” He paused, and a sadness drifted over his face that arrowed to her heart. “Don’t ever take that for granted.”

She acknowledged his admonition with a slow nod. Ryan’s death had taught her that lesson well. “So how about you? Are you from Morgan Hollow?”

He hesitated then grunted, “Naw.”

“Then where are you from? How’d you end up here?” When he didn’t respond, she glanced over at him. “Matt?”

He scooted out from behind the tub and sat up, leaning against the wall with his legs bent, his arms propped casually on his knees. He stared hard at the scraper in his hand, furrowing his brow as if contemplating a troubling topic.

She shifted her weight awkwardly, uneasy with the silence. What had she said that had darkened his mood? “If you’d rather not discuss—”

“I’m originally from Charlotte. That’s where I practiced for ten years…until my wife—”

When he paused again, Holly waited patiently for him to continue, giving the wallpaper removal a half effort. She made a mental note of the term practiced regarding his career but was loath to interrupt him for an explanation now.

“After Jill died, I…moved to Iona Falls, because I wanted to be closer to my kids, even if my in-laws wouldn’t let me see them. Then I found a job working construction here in Morgan Hollow a few months later, so I moved again. I guess I was looking for a fresh start in a new town where no one knew—” He stopped abruptly and darted a sharp glance at her. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then he rolled one palm up. “Where no one knew about Jill’s death, where I could start rebuilding my life.”

The grief in his eyes stabbed Holly, stole her breath for a moment. She knew exactly the pain that had motivated his longing for a change of scenery. “Dozens of times in the past few months, I’ve wanted to flee my life and start over somewhere people don’t know me. I’d go somewhere people don’t look at me with pitying looks in the grocery store and avoid using Ryan’s name as if it were taboo. Somewhere people don’t pat my hand as they size me up like they expect me to have an emotional breakdown any moment.” She shook her head and huffed a humorless laugh. “Moving on is hard when the people around you won’t let you put the past behind you.”

“Tell me about it.” Matt gave her a peculiar, measuring scrutiny. “You said your husband’s killer hasn’t been found?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she shook her head.

His gaze burrowed into hers, insightful, warm, understanding.

“That must make it harder to move forward. The unanswered questions would drive me crazy.” His tone was gentle, a balm to her ragged emotions.

Holly squared her shoulders. “The unknowns bug me, yes. But I intend to get answers. Somehow, someday. Ryan deserves justice. But I try not to dwell on the questions anymore, not at the expense of living for the present, planning for the future.”

A gentle grin touched his lips, and he nodded. “Good for you.”

A thump sounded downstairs, followed by a male voice calling, “Holly? You home?”

“Upstairs!” she shouted back.

Matt sent her a curious look. “Were you expecting company?”

“That’s Jon, my brother-in-law who’s helping me with the renovations. I gave him a key so he could work even if I wasn’t home.” She set her scraper down and gauged their progress with an encompassing glance around the bathroom. “How about a break? I’ll make a pot of spiced cider, and we can eat leftover sugar cookies from my class’s Halloween party.”

Matt rose to his feet and rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck. “You’re not paying me to sit around and eat cookies.”

“Hey, I’m the boss.” She sent him a mock scowl. “And I say it’s break time. Besides, I want you to meet Jon. You’ll be working with him a lot in the coming weeks.”

“Holly?” Jon called again from the hall.

“Coming.” She headed out to meet her brother-in-law, signaling Matt to follow her. She stepped out into the hall just as Jon reached the top of the stairs. Jon, a fireman in a nearby town, had the thick chest and wide shoulders of a man who kept his body in top condition for his job. Like Ryan, he had the Cole family’s brown hair, straight narrow nose and dark eyes.

Her brother-in-law’s smile of greeting dimmed as his gaze shifted to Matt. A puzzled frown dimpled Jon’s forehead for a moment before he schooled his face. “Hey, I thought I’d work on sanding the floor in the study today,” he said by way of greeting. “But if you’re…entertaining—” He cast another meaningful glance toward Matt.

Holly supposed having a man in her bedroom on a Saturday morning could look suspicious…if she were the sort to bring men home for one-night stands. Which she wasn’t. And Jon knew that. She gritted her teeth and sent him a scowl, primarily for the awkwardness his comment might have caused Matt.

“Jon, this is Matt Rankin. I’ve hired him to help with the renovations.”

Her brother-in-law arched a dark eyebrow, reflecting his surprise, but he quickly molded his countenance in a polite smile, offering his hand to Matt, as Holly completed the introduction.

“We’ve been removing the old wallpaper in the master bathroom.” Why she felt compelled to explain why Matt had emerged from her bedroom she wasn’t sure. If she wanted to entertain men in her home, she could—without having to answer to Ryan’s family.

Jon narrowed a scrutinizing gaze on Matt and scratched his chin. “Have we met before? You look awfully familiar.”

Matt’s casual stance stiffened slightly. Not much, but enough for Holly to wonder about his reaction to Jon’s question.

“Not…that I’m aware of.”

Jon continued to study Matt’s face intently. “I know I know you from somewhere. Do you go to Mac’s gym? Calvary Baptist Church? Work for a first-response squad somewhere locally?”

Matt shook his head, his expression wary. “No. None of the above. Sorry.”

“Oh, well, maybe it will come to me later.” Jon shrugged and turned his attention back to Holly. Pitching his voice low, he stepper closer to her. “I told you I’d help you finish the house. You didn’t have to hire anyone. Extra help is an unnecessary expense when I’ll work for free.”

Holly cut a side glance toward Matt, who feigned interest in the family photos on the wall, before facing Jon again. “And I appreciate your help more than you know. But you’re busy with Kim and working at the fire station, and I’m ready to be done with this old house. I want to finish by Christmas if possible.”

Both of his eyebrows shot up now. “By Christmas? It’ll take more than one guy working round the clock to finish in two months.”

Holly grinned and patted Jon’s arm. “Which is why I still need you to come when you can and pitch in, if you’re willing.”

“Of course, but—” He left the complaint hanging, glancing once more to Matt before sighing his resignation. “Whatever. It’s your house.”

“Yes, it is. So…we were just about to take a break. Would you like some spiced cider?” Holly started down the stairs but tossed the question over her shoulder.

“Uh, no, thanks,” Jon answered, his gaze fixed on Matt again. “I thought I’d get started sanding the floor in the study today. You still want to keep the hardwood floor in there, right? Sand the existing floor, then stain and finish it?”

“Yep. That’s the plan.”

The soft thud of footsteps on the stairs told her Matt was following her as she made her way to the kitchen. She moved her Snoopy cookie jar from the counter to the table and removed the lid. “Help yourself. The mother of one of my students made them.”

Matt pulled out a kitchen chair with a scrape and sat down. He ate one of the cookies in two bites and closed his eyes as he savored the treat. “Mmm, can’t tell you the last time I had a homemade cookie. These are delicious.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Mrs. Holbrook you enjoyed them.” Taking a seat across from him, she nibbled a cookie herself, and her mind drifted back to something Matt had said earlier. “What did you mean when you said you practiced in Charlotte before you moved to Iona Falls? What did you practice?”

Matt seemed startled by her question. He drew a deep breath and blew it out, then rubbed his bristly chin before answering. “Medicine.”

“You’re a doctor?” Holly blinked her surprise.

Again, he hesitated. “A pediatrician.”

Holly thought back with fresh understanding to Matt’s quick actions at the community center when the little boy choked on his candy. “But you don’t practice anymore?”

He shook his head, a dark regret shadowing his eyes.

“Why not?”

Matt shifted in his chair, and he met her gaze with a decidedly uncomfortable look.

She realized how pushy and personal the question was and backpedaled. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s a legitimate question. But the answer is rather long and complicated.” Frowning, Matt glanced away for a moment before returning a penetrating gaze to Holly. “I want you to know the truth. I want to be honest with you.” He scraped his palm across his jawline and groaned. His face reflected a deep, gnawing misery. “But I’d rather save this discussion for another day.”





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