“You want those things?” He leaned back and looked into her face. “But you always hung back.”
“It seemed easier not to hope at all rather than continually be disappointed,” she replied. “But I was just pretending to be something I wasn’t.”
“When you were standing in the kitchen in that apron with flour on your nose I knew,” he said. “You belonged there. I didn’t know how to make you see it. But you looked happy. It seemed right.”
“It was right. You gave me the greatest thing of all, Blake. Acceptance. You accept people. Yes, you try to fix them—not to make them someone different from who they are, but to show that they are already valuable and worth your time. I love you, Blake. I didn’t expect to, and I certainly didn’t want to, and I wasn’t even sure I could. But I do—so much. You’re my Christmas miracle and I wasn’t even looking for one.”
His eyes sparkled at her. “Hope? I want to kiss you again, but we’re still in the middle of your grandmother’s yard. And if this town is like most small towns then nothing is private. Do you suppose we could go inside, where it’s warmer and more...um...?”
She took him by the hand and led him up the porch, over the squeaky board, and inside. He immediately swung her about until she was in his arms and he was kissing her—without the caution of that first time by the tree, and not in the lazy way they’d kissed in the snow, or even the desperate, unsure way they’d kissed only minutes ago in the yard. This one was deliberate, confident. Like coming home and Christmas morning and all the good, fine things she could imagine rolled into one.
When it broke off they were both smiling, and the weight that had been on her shoulders—the one he’d seen right from the beginning—suddenly rolled away. She laughed as she realized she had one final present to give him.
“I finally did it, Blake. I took the perfect picture.”
“You did?”
She nodded. “Stay here. I’ll show you.”
She raced upstairs, boots and all—she’d clean up later—and grabbed her laptop. “I haven’t had a chance to print it yet, but look.” She brought up the picture and held it out. “It’s you and Cate in front of the tree.”
“And this is the perfect shot?”
She nodded again, watching his face and not the screen. “It has everything I truly want in it.” She took the computer from his hands and put it down. “I saw my mom and dad today. I think they might finally be on the road to happiness. But, Blake, I’ve realized that I don’t want it to take me so long. I want happiness now. I want love and a family of my own. Anyone who sees you work with the kids knows you’d be an amazing father. You’re kind and loving and you make me laugh.”
“Why, Miss McKinnon, it almost sounds like you’re proposing.”
Was she?
“That might be moving a little too fast,” she admitted with a sideways smile, “but Grace was right. I can freelance anywhere. It doesn’t make sense to stay in Australia when my heart’s in Alberta, does it?”
“Definitely not,” he agreed. “So, tell me. What are we doing for New Year’s Eve?”
“Still have those sleigh bells?”
He reached out and touched her cheek. “Always,” he murmured.
“In the meantime you need to meet my family. Come to the rest of the festival. It’s my first freelance gig with Grace. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Blake grinned and took her hand.
They stepped outside just as Gram’s Christmas lights came on with the timer. In the waning afternoon the yard was transformed into a twilight fairy tale.
She squeezed his fingers. “Merry Christmas, honey.”
“I like the sound of that,” he replied, tugging on her hand and leading her down the candy cane path.
The Billionaire’s Christmas Desire
Midnight Under the Mistletoe
Sara Orwig
Christmas in the Billionaire’s Bed
Janice Maynard
Million Dollar Christmas Proposal
Lucy Monroe
Sara Orwig
With special thanks to
Stacy Boyd, Shana Smith and Maureen Walters.
May you have a blessed and joyous holiday.
Another secretary to interview.
Zach Delaney stood at the window of his west Texas ranch and watched the approaching car. This candidate was prompt. He had heard this one lived in Dallas, was single, only twenty-four, a homebody who insisted on weekends free to go home. She wanted a week off before Christmas and two days after Christmas. If she could do the work, it was all right with him. He didn’t know her, but she had worked more than two years at his Dallas office, which held the corporate offices of his demolition company, his trucking company and the architectural firm he owned. She’d risen fast and was highly recommended.
As Zach watched the car approach the house, he thought about the other secretaries he’d interviewed and the conversation he’d had with his brother Will, who had stopped by an hour ago.
He remembered Will laughing. “I know you—you’re probably about to go up in smoke from boredom.”
“You’ve got that right. I feel as if I’m a prisoner and time seems to have stopped,” Zach replied, raking his fingers through his thick, brown curls.
Will nodded. “Don’t forget—you’re supposed to stay off your feet and keep your foot elevated.”
“I’m doing that most of the time. Believe me, I want my foot to get well.”
Will smiled. “You should have just stayed in Dallas after Garrett’s wedding earlier this month. You haven’t been cooped up like this since you were five and had the mumps.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“That was twenty-seven years ago. I don’t know how you’ve made it this long in demolition without getting hurt.”
“I’ve been lucky and careful, I guess.”
“If you don’t end up hiring today’s interviewee, I’ll send someone out to work for you. If I had known the difficulty you’re having finding a competent secretary, I would have sent one before now.”
“Thanks. One secretary lasted a few days before deciding the ranch was too isolated. Another talked incessantly,”