The Christmas Baby. Lisa Carter

He ran his hand over his hair. “I don’t understand this situation at all, but I promise to never stop being your friend.”

      Her throat constricted.

      Pushing off from the car, he came forward to the bottom step. “Will you forgive me for being an idiot and give me another chance to be the friend you deserve?”

      “I’d like that, Ryan.” Tears stung her eyes. “Very much.”

      He gave her that crooked smile she remembered so well. Like a flash of lightning, momentarily sizzling her brain.

      “I figured Charlie might need help unpacking your car.” He motioned to the packed-to-the-roof baby blue Beetle. “Looks like the day you headed off to college. Remember?”

      She remembered.

      A tender moment on a long-ago August morning when he helped pack her stuff into this same car. When she’d hoped for something more than friendship. But now? If he only understood how little of that girl remained.

      “I’ve rented a small house on Quayside Lane.”

      He shrugged. “Then I’ll follow and help you unpack.”

      “That’s not necessary.”

      “Or I won’t believe you’ve really forgiven me.” He cocked his head. “You don’t want me lying awake all night on your conscience, do you, Anna Banana?”

      Her lips quirked.

      No fair playing on his affectionate childhood nickname for her. Maybe this once, it wouldn’t hurt to let someone help carry the load. She glanced at the overloaded vehicle. Literally.

      “If you want to.”

      He laughed. “Perhaps the most begrudging acceptance I’ve ever heard.”

      It wouldn’t do to become too dependent on anyone. Not even her dearest friend. “What I meant to say was thank you, Ryan. I’d appreciate your help.”

      To show him her sincerity, she gave him a wide smile. But when she took hold of his hand to descend the steps, an unexpected tingle shot from his fingers to her elbow.

      Ground level, she jerked free. Their gazes locked.

      Something flamed in the blue-green depths of his eyes. “By the way, Anna, Merry Christmas.”

      “Is it?” she rasped.

      He broke eye contact long enough to push his glasses farther along the bridge of his nose. “I think, for the first time in a long while, it might just be a very merry Christmas.”

      “Friends?” Something compelled her to add.

      He scraped his hand over the beard stubble on his jaw. “Friends.”

      Anna owed him the truth. Not everyone in Kiptohanock would understand her decision to carry this child. Would Ryan?

      She exhaled, sending a puff of breath into the brisk air. “The baby is Mateo’s. Posthumously conceived. So a tiny part of the life we shared can live on.”

      “I meant what I said. I’m here for you.” He swallowed. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

      Good as his word, he wouldn’t let her down. Ryan Savage had never let her down. And somehow in the deep places of her heart, she knew he wouldn’t now.

      He cleared his throat. “In fact, I’ve made some phone calls...”

      She glanced at him.

      “I’m going to be your own personal version of Santa. And I could use your help with an idea I have for Maria, Oscar and Zander.”

      “Which means what?”

      “I’m going to make it my mission to make this the best Kiptohanock Christmas ever.” He smiled, and her heart lurched. “For all of us.”

       Chapter Three

      Dusk fell as Ryan hauled the last box up the rickety, wooden steps into the run-down trailer. He placed the box on the peeling kitchen countertop. No wonder Anna hadn’t wanted her brother out here.

      She raised her palm before he could speak. “It was cheap. It was furnished. It’s temporary and not any of your business.”

      “You can’t stay here, Anna. The steps are an accident waiting to happen.”

      She folded her arms. “I’ll be fine.”

      “And that car you got as a high school graduation present is on its last legs. I can’t believe you drove from Texas in that bucket of bolts.”

      “My car is fine.”

      “You and I both know that at the crack of dawn, your brother is going to pay you a visit. And then he’s going to drag you out of here if he has to put you under house arrest—his house—to do it.”

      In her defiant brown eyes, for a second he glimpsed the take-no-sass girl raised in a houseful of boys. “He can try.”

      She wasn’t the only one who could do stubborn. “I’m fixing the steps, Anna.”

      “I’ll fix the steps myself.”

      He planted his hands on his hips. “Can you see your feet, Anna, much less crawl under the porch?”

      She rocked back. Wrong thing to say to a pregnant woman.

      “I didn’t mean that the way—” But she sidestepped his outstretched hand.

      Frustration bubbled at her mile-wide independent streak. “I can’t in good conscience let you get hurt on those steps.”

      “Conscience’s sake? Is that why you’re here?” Her lips flattened. “What am I, Ryan, this year’s Christmas project?”

      He moved around the kitchen island toward her. “Absolutely not.”

      She pressed her spine against the speckled counter. “Knock yourself out then. Don’t let me stop you.”

      “Anna, I just—”

      “By all means do what you have to do so you can sleep at night.” She inched past him, not an easy feat with the lack of square footage in the tiny galley kitchen.

      As for the electric spark when he touched her hand on Charlie’s porch? He clamped down on his jaw.

      Friends. They were friends. He drilled it into his brain. Just friends.

      Retrieving the toolbox from the trunk of his car, he did what he could in the fading light to make the hand railing more secure. The steps needed a total overhaul. But in the meantime...

      Poking her head out the door, Anna flicked a switch inside the house. An exterior light blinked to feeble life.

      He glanced up. “I’m done for the night.”

      “Thank you, Ryan. Don’t let me keep you from...” She fluttered her hand in the general direction of the mainland United States. “Wherever you go in the evenings.”

      “From my wife and kids, you mean?”

      The strangest look crossed her face, so quickly he almost believed he imagined it. “I didn’t realize you had a wife and children.”

      “I don’t.”

      “Oh.” She moistened her bottom lip with her tongue. “Good.”

      He cocked his head. “Good I don’t have a wife and kids?”

      “Yes—no...” She reddened. “I mean, good that I’m not keeping you from anything. Like supper.” She cleared her throat. “I should pay you.”

      He frowned. “I don’t want you to pay me.”

      Earning