Jason didn’t feel so steady himself. What had this redheaded stranger been to Kimmie? And was she seriously thinking of staying at the farm—with babies—when she obviously knew nothing about managing a country winter? “Look, do you want to bring your kids and come sit in my truck? I have bottled water in there, and it’s warm. You’re not looking so good.”
She ignored the suggestion. “You’re Jason Stephanidis? Oh, wow.” She didn’t sound happy as she glanced at the babies in the back seat of her car.
“And your name is...”
“Erica. Erica Lindholm.”
“Well, Erica, we need to talk.” He needed to pump her for information and then send her on her way. The farm was no place for her and her boys, not at this time of year. And Jason’s grandfather didn’t need the stress.
On the other hand, given the rusty appearance of her small car, a model popular at least ten years ago, she probably didn’t have a lot of money for a hotel. If she could even get to one at this time of night, in this storm.
She straightened her back and gave him a steady look that suggested she had courage, at least. “If you’re Kimmie’s brother, we do need to talk. She needs help, if you’re willing. But for now, I need to get the boys to shelter. If you could just point me toward the farm—”
He made a snap decision to take her there, at least for tonight. “I’ll clear the road and you can follow me there.” She’d obviously been close to Kimmie. Maybe a fellow addict who needed a place to stay, dry out.
If he caught one whiff of drug use around those babies, though, he’d have her arrested so fast she wouldn’t know what had hit her.
“I don’t want to put you out.” Her voice sounded tight, shaky. “I’m sure you have somewhere to go.”
“It’s no trouble to lead you there,” he said, “since I live at Holly Creek Farm.”
The detective in him couldn’t help but notice that his announcement made the pretty redhead very, very uncomfortable.
* * *
Erica Lindholm clutched the steering wheel and squinted through the heavily falling snow, her eyes on the red taillights in front of her.
Jason Stephanidis lived there. In the place Kimmie had said belonged to her grandparents. What nightmare was this?
How could she take care of the babies here? Kimmie’s brother, being a detective, was sure to find out she’d taken them and run with no official guardianship papers. That had to be a crime.
And he might—probably would—attempt to take them away from her.
She couldn’t let him—that was all. Which meant she couldn’t let him know that the boys were actually Kimmie’s sons.
Somewhere on the long road trip, caring for the twins and worrying about them, comforting them and feeding them, she’d come to love them with pure maternal fierceness. She’d protect them with her life.
Including protecting them from Kimmie’s rigid, controlling brother, if need be. She’d promised Kimmie that.
In just ten minutes, which somehow felt all too soon, they turned off the main road. The truck ahead slowed down, and a moment later she realized Jason had lowered the plow on the front of his truck and was clearing the small road that curved up a little hill and over a quaint-looking bridge.
A moment later they pulled up to a white farmhouse, its front door light revealing a wraparound front porch, the stuff of a million farm movies.
Behind her, Teddy started to fuss. From the smell of things, one or both of the boys needed a diaper change.
Jason had emerged from the truck and was coming back toward her, and she got out of her car to meet him. He looked as big as a mountain: giant, stubbly and dangerous.
Erica’s heart beat faster. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us tonight,” she said. “I understand there’s a cabin on the property. We can go directly there, if you’ll point the way.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“That cabin hasn’t been opened up in a couple of years. The heat’s off, water’s off, who knows what critters have been living there...” He shook his head. “I don’t know what you were thinking, bringing those babies out in this storm.”
Guilt surged up in her. He was right.
“For now, you’ll have to stay at the farmhouse with me.”
Whoa. No way. “That’s not safe or appropriate. I don’t know you from—”
The front door burst open. “There you are! I was ready to call the rescue squad. Who’d you bring with you?”
All she could see of the man in the doorway was a tall blur, backlit by a golden, homey light that looked mercifully warm.
“Open up the guest room, would you, Papa? We’ve got Kimmie’s friend here, and she has babies.”
“Babies! Get them inside. I’ll put on the soup pot and pull out the crib.” The front door closed.
Jason looked at Erica, and for the first time, she saw a trace of humor in his eyes. “My grandfather’s house. He’ll keep you and the twins safe from me and anything else.”
Behind her, through the car’s closed windows, she could hear both twins crying. She didn’t have another solution, at least not tonight. “All right. Thank you.”
Moments later they were inside a large, well-heated farmhouse kitchen. Erica spread a blanket and changed the twins’ diapers while Jason’s grandfather took a dishrag to an ancient-looking high chair. “There you go,” he said, giving the chair’s wooden tray a final polish. “One of ’em can sit there. You’ll have to hold the other for now.” He extended a weathered hand. “Andrew Stephanidis. You can call me Papa Andy.”
“Thank you.” She shook his hand and then lifted Teddy into the high chair. “This is Teddy, and—” she bent down and picked up Mikey “—this is Mikey, and I’m Erica. Erica Lindholm.” Who might be wanted by the police right about now. “I’m very grateful to you for taking us in.”
“Always room for the little ones. That’s what Mama used to say.” The old man looked away for a moment, then turned back to face Erica. “Sorry we’re not decorated for Christmas. Used to have holly and evergreens and tinsel to the roof, but...seems like I just don’t have the heart for it this year.”
Jason carried in the last of her boxes and set it on the table. “I put your suitcases up in the guest room, but this box looks like food.” He was removing his enormous boots as he spoke. “Sorry about the mess, Papa. I’ll clean it up.”
The old man waved a hand. “Later. Sit down and have some soup.”
Erica’s head was spinning. How had Kimmie gotten it so wrong, telling her the mean brother never came to the farm? And it sure seemed like Kimmie’s grandmother, the “Mama” Papa Andy had spoken of, had passed on. Obviously, Kimmie had completely lost touch with her own family.
In front of Erica, a steaming bowl of vegetable soup sent up amazing smells, pushing aside her questions. She’d been so focused on feeding and caring for the twins during four long days of travel that she’d barely managed to eat. The occasional drive-through burger and the packets of cheese and crackers in the cheap motels where they’d crashed each night couldn’t compare to the deliciousness in front of her.
“Go ahead. Dig in. I’ll hold the little one.” Papa Andy lifted Mikey from her lap and sat down, bouncing him on his knee with a practiced movement.
Erica held her breath. With the twins’ developmental