The Best Christmas Ever

He gave her a patient smile. “I said that you—”

“No, I mean, why would you—why do you think that?”

He smiled again, knowingly this time. “Oh, it probably has something to do with that ice I see in your eyes every time you look at me.”

Embarrassed, she jerked her eyes away and looked across the room to where Ben still sat playing on the rug. “You’re misreading me,” she said as casually as she could manage. “How could I not like you? I don’t even know you.”

“That’s true,” he said thoughtfully, then took another bite of cake. “At first I thought it was simply because I was a man. But you seem to like Dad, and it’s obvious that you like Sam.”

“Of course I like Sam. He’s a dear man.” Since she’d moved into her grandmother’s old house, Sam had done things for her that she could never possibly have managed on her own. Like when he’d fixed the broken water line in the bathroom and patched the roof where it had leaked near the foot of her bed. She never forgot a kindness and Sam had been kind to her.

Nick snorted, but the sound was softened with a grin. “Believe me, Allison. Sam’s not a dear. He’s a bear.”

Tilting her head to one side, she looked at him. “Really? Then what are you?”

His dark blue eyes were suddenly full of laughter. “Why, Miss Lee, I thought you knew I was a soldier.”

He was playing with her, Allison thought. But, surprisingly, she didn’t resent the fact. Why should she? she asked herself. Nick was more or less a stranger and he’d be gone from here in a matter of days. He couldn’t hurt her in any way. She felt a bit safer at the thought.

Smiling now, Allison sliced off another bite of cake. “And what kind of soldiering do you do? Do you sit behind a desk or are you out in the field?”

“A little of both.”

“Do you like it?”

Nick shrugged. “I guess I like it. I’ve done it for six years.”

He hadn’t really answered her question. But Allison wasn’t going to point that out to him. The last thing she wanted was for Nick Gallagher to get the idea she was interested in him.

Chapter 3

A few moments later S.T. and Sam came into the den. Allison quickly excused herself to join the women in the kitchen. Ella brought out the silver polish and they all went to work cleaning the silverware and table pieces that would be used for the wedding reception. When that job was finished they went to work making bags of rice, cutting tiny little squares of fine red netting, filling them with dry rice and tying the tops with satin ribbons. It was a painstaking job, but Ella said it wouldn’t be a wedding unless the guests had rice to throw at the bride and groom.

None of them realized they’d been working for nearly two hours until Sam and Nick came into the room.

“Olivia,” Sam said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to be worn-out. Why don’t you call it quits for tonight?”

Ella quickly agreed, saying they could all use another round of cake and coffee.

“I’d really better be going,” Allison said quickly. “Ben needs to be in bed. Especially with tomorrow being a workday for me.”

“Your son is sound asleep,” Nick told her. “I think Dad told him one too many farming stories.”

Allison glanced to where he was standing across the table from her and smiled briefly. “Thank you for keeping an eye on him. I’ll just go start the car and let it be warming before I get him.”

She was over by the door, pulling on her coat, when Nick walked up behind her. Allison knew it was him even before he spoke and her heart began to thud heavily against her breast.

“I’ll go start your car,” he said.

Her hands stilled on the button at her neck. His voice was so coarse and deep, so totally masculine that it sent shivers down her spine. “That’s okay. I’m used to doing it.”

“Nonsense. Give me the key.”

Not wanting to appear ungrateful to the rest of the Gallaghers, Allison pulled her keys out of her coat and handed them to him.

He went out the door with a grin on his face while Allison took a deep breath and headed to the den for her son.

She’d told everyone good-night and was carrying Ben across the breezeway when Nick suddenly appeared in front of her.

“The car is running,” he said. “Let me carry him for you.”

“Really, Nick, I can—”

Before she could say more, Nick reached for the sleeping child. Allison could do little more than hand him over. As she did, her fingers inadvertently touched Nick’s arm. The warmth and strength she felt beneath the thin material of his shirt left a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She tried her best to ignore it as they made their way through the kitchen to the back door.

“Oh, Allison,” Kathleen called, hurrying to catch her before she stepped onto the porch. “You forgot to take Buddy.”

Allison hesitated, then shook her head as Nick’s sister thrust the floppy-eared dog toward her. “No, I couldn’t take your dog.”

Kathleen laughed at Allison’s protest. “Why ever not? Ben loves him.”

“I know. But the dog is obviously your keepsake.”

Kathleen smiled fondly at the dog in her hand. “I’ve had him forever. Now I want to give him to Ben.”

Maybe it was just a worn-out toy, Allison thought. But she knew how much she’d missed her own keepsakes. “That’s very sweet of you, Kathleen, but I’d feel awful about taking him. You might want to give him to a child of your own someday.”

As soon as the words were out Allison knew she’d said something wrong. Pain, or something close to it, flickered in Kathleen’s eyes and her hands gripped the furry dog. “That’s something that won’t be happening,” she said in a husky voice, then thrust the dog into Allison’s hands and hurriedly turned away. “Take good care of him. That’s all I ask,” she called as she left the room.

Allison looked up at Nick, who was standing just outside on the porch. His expression was solemn.

“What’s wrong? What did I say?” Allison asked anxiously.

Nick shook his head. “It’s not your fault. Come on. I’ll tell you later.”

Allison hurried across the backyard and to her car so that she could have the door already open for Nick. After he’d carefully placed the child on the back seat, he turned and opened the front door on the passenger side.

“I’ll go with you to carry him in,” he explained.

Allison’s heart was suddenly flopping like a fish out of water. “It’s all right. I’m used to carrying him,” Allison assured him, then climbed behind the wheel.

Nick ignored her protest and joined her on the front seat anyway. Once he’d shut the door, he looked over at her bemused face. “Let’s go, woman! It’s freezing in here.”

Frowning, Allison thrust the car into reverse, then headed down the road. Relax, she quickly told herself. It wasn’t like he was going to make a pass or anything. He was just here to help her with Benjamin.

She glanced over at the man sitting only a few inches away from her. “I hope I didn’t upset Kathleen too much over the toy. It was so generous of her that I...” Allison sighed, then started again. “I guess I reminded her of her dead husband when I mentioned her having children, didn’t I?”

He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t that. Kathleen and her husband were never able to have children.”

Allison wished she could kick herself. “Oh, my, I’m so sorry. What must she think of me?”

“You didn’t know. She understands that.”

“I didn’t know. But, oh, my,” she said again, feeling an unbearable sadness for Nick’s sister. “Please explain to her, will you?”

“I will. But you should forget it. I’m sure Kathleen already has.”

By now they had reached the short driveway to her house. Allison pulled in slowly and parked on the west side beneath the bare branches of a huge sycamore tree.

She’d left the door to the house unlocked and a lamp on in the living room. With Ben in his arms, Nick followed her through the small shadowy rooms to a bedroom at the back, then stood to one side as she pulled the covers on a half bed equipped with a safety rail.

After Nick had gently laid the boy on the smooth sheet, Allison removed his outer clothing, then pulled a heavy comforter up over his shoulders and placed a kiss on his cheek. It was a sight that called up Nick’s own childhood, when his mother had done the same nightly ritual for him. He’d always felt utterly loved by his mother. Just as Ben probably did. For it was more than obvious that Allison was devoted to her son. It made him wonder if she was still devoted to the child’s father. Wherever he was.

Turning from the bed, Allison almost bumped into him and nearly lost her footing trying to avoid a head-on crash into his broad chest. Nick caught her arm to steady her.

“S-sorry,” she stammered a bit breathlessly. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

The room was dark, but there was enough of a glow coming from the yard light outside for Allison to see his mouth curve into a crooked smile.

“I figured I’d better follow you back through the house so you could lock up,” he said.

Allison was acutely aware of his fingers, the warmth that radiated from them. Although he was holding her gently, she somehow knew the grip of his hand could be powerful if he wanted it to be so. She wasn’t used to big strong men, and certainly not big, strong, good-looking men like Nick Gallagher. And that was the only reason she was having these strange reactions to him, she told herself.

“I’ll—just give me a moment and I’ll drive you back to your house,” she told him.

She made a move toward the door. Nick was forced to release her arm and follow. Although he realized with a start that he would have been perfectly happy to keep standing there close to her in the darkness. Perfectly happy to simply hold her arm and look down at her face.

That’s not your style, Nick. You’re a man of action, not a sentimental, romantic sop.

“I couldn’t ask you to leave Ben,” he told her while trying to sort out the strange things wheeling around in his head.

“It only takes a minute. Two at the most. I’m outside at the clothesline longer than that.”

The sweet, erotic scent of jasmine drifted to him as he followed her through the darkened hallway. Nick took a deep breath and tried to cleanse his wayward thoughts. “Still, I wouldn’t hear of it. I’ll jog back.”

They were in the living room now. Allison stood stiffly with her hands folded in front of her. Actually, they weren’t folded, they were clenched, but she hoped he wasn’t able to see her nervousness in the low lamplight.

Nick took a moment to look around the long room. There was a faint glow of dying embers in the shallow fireplace, a few steps away from it a cherry-wood rocker. Nick stared at the old, familiar chair. “That was Martha’s old rocker. I remember her having it out on the porch in the summertime.”

The fact that he remembered both touched and surprised Allison. She’d been speaking the truth when she’d said her grandmother had often mentioned Nick. But there’d been times when she’d wondered if those accounts of his visits had been just the imagination of a lonely old woman. Now that she’d met Nick, she knew they hadn’t been.

“You really did come to see her, didn’t you?” she said, her voice touched with wonder.

He turned his head to look at her, then almost wished he hadn’t. She was like a vision with the faint glow of light haloing her long, red hair and outlining the lush curves of her body. Nick had known lots of women. Some of them had even been beautiful. But none of them had affected him quite like this one. Nick couldn’t understand it. Why did this one make him feel so giddy, like a schoolboy with sweaty palms?

“Of course I did. Dad used to get angry with me because I spent so much time over here instead of doing my chores.”

A faint smile touched her face. “And why did you spend time with Grandmother? To get out of doing your chores?”

Nick laughed softly. “It sounds that way. But actually, no. My grandparents lived in Texas and I rarely got to see them. I guess Martha was like having a grandmother here at home. She’d give me licorice, which I hated with a passion, but I’d eat it anyway just so she would tell me Civil War stories.”

“Why didn’t you tell her you hated licorice?”

Nick’s expression was suddenly sheepish. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

Allison couldn’t imagine this sergeant in the army being worried about such a thing. “What about Sam? Didn’t he want to hear Civil War stories, too?”

Nick shook his head and jammed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Sam was always content to work on the farm. Whether it was planting time or harvesting time, he wanted to be in on the doing of it.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Not always.” Which was true enough, Nick thought. But he’d never been as good at it as Sam. Sam had been able to plow a straight row from the time he was twelve years old, whereas Nick had always ended up daydreaming and straying off course. S.T., hotter than the devil himself, would come out to the fields and order Nick off the tractor and Sam up in the driver’s seat. It was a scenario that had been repeated over and over during their growing up years. Sam was still in the driver’s seat as far as the farm was concerned, Nick realized. This year his brother had taken over sole responsibility of running the farm. Nick didn’t know how he felt about that. Actually, he tried not to think about it at all.

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