His Christmas Sweetheart. Cathy McDavid

torturing him?”

      “What are you talking about?”

      She lowered her voice. “He’s not the kind you toy with, Miranda. That heart of his has been through the wringer. Anyone can see it.”

      “I don’t toy.”

      “You don’t exactly handle with care, either.”

      She delivered the longnecks to a far table where a pair of truckers sat. They would be gone in the morning, having off-loaded their cargo of kitchen cabinets to the Abrams, one of many local families in the process of rebuilding their homes.

      “Thank you,” she said cheerily when they dropped a tip of several singles on her tray.

      They definitely took note of her swaying hips. And as a glance across the room confirmed, Will took note of them.

      Okay, maybe she did toy with him a little.

      She couldn’t help herself. He liked her, it was obvious. Desired her, even. Yet there he sat, watching, but not running after her as other men had. Not even walking. She was determined to get him up and moving in her direction.

      Fancy that. Miranda Staley doing the chasing for once, rather than the other way around.

      “Hey, Miranda, bring us another round, would ya, darling?”

      “Right away, Henry.”

      The cattle rancher’s table wasn’t far from Will. She made a point of passing right by him when she delivered the drinks to Henry and his cronies.

      Will’s gaze stuck to her like superglue. Miranda felt her cheeks redden. Seriously! When did a man ever make her blush?

      Apparently now.

      The mayor’s words came rushing back to her: that heart of his has been through the wringer.

      Sweet, darling man. To have lost his parents. How old had he been? she wondered. Not that it made a difference. Losing them at any age would be tragic.

      Miranda had no idea if her own birth parents were alive or not. She tried to care. Tried to muster an ounce of compassion and affection for them. A shred of curiosity as to their whereabouts. But any feelings she might have had for them were lost when they’d abandoned her for three whole days in an old car because they were too high to remember they even had a daughter.

      Losing her foster parents, however, was an entirely different matter. Miranda ached at the mere thought. Nothing would leave a larger, emptier hole in her life.

      Would she withdraw the way Will had? Avoid relationships? For a while, certainly. For years? It was hard to say. Miranda was resilient. More than that, her foster parents wouldn’t want her to close herself off. They were gregarious, affectionate people who had taught their children to live life to the fullest.

      “Order up,” the cook called.

      Saying hi to her newly arrived coworker, Cissy, Miranda collected Will’s Swiss-and-bacon burger from the window.

      “Here you go.” She scooted close to Will, setting the generously laden plate down in front of him. “Enjoy.”

      He gazed hungrily...at her. Not at the plate of food. Miranda flushed again.

      This was just plain silly, she silently chided herself as she went about clearing a recently vacated table. When Cissy emerged from the back, tying her apron, Miranda tried to distract herself by making small talk. It worked only until she caught Cissy giving Will a decidedly predatory once-over.

      “I’ve been trying to get his attention for ages,” she confessed out of the side of her mouth when they met up at the bar to collect fresh drink orders.

      “Any luck?” Miranda wasn’t normally the jealous type. She could, she realized, become that way. Cissy was certainly attractive, in a flashy sort of way. Maybe Will preferred that over Miranda’s country-girl looks.

      “Don’t I wish,” Cissy sighed.

      Miranda busied herself refilling salt and pepper shakers before the dinner crowd arrived in full force.

      “He’s sure noticing you,” Cissy said.

      Miranda glanced quickly at Will and pretended nonchalance. “Oh?”

      “As if you didn’t know.”

      “We’re friends. He comes by my elder-care home. To visit one of my residents,” she clarified.

      “Uh-huh.” Cissy’s reply oozed sarcasm.

      “No, really.” If Will had been wanting to visit Miranda all along, he wouldn’t have recently stopped.

      “Well, I’m giving you fair warning. If he decides to be my friend, I’m totally taking him up on it.”

      Hmm. Like hell.

      The saloon was filling up by the minute and she was running around like crazy. Even so, Will was never out of her visual range for long. More than once their glances connected.

      She tried reading what lay behind his expression without success, which only served to increase her interest. When he pushed to his feet and reached for his hat on the bar, she was right there beside him.

      “You leaving?”

      “I have to get back before dark.”

      “It’s only five.”

      “I’m riding.”

      “You are?”

      She’d missed seeing him arrive by horseback. She wouldn’t miss seeing him leave. Will astride a horse was a worthy sight.

      “Later.” He touched the brim of his hat.

      “Does that mean you’re stopping by the house soon?”

      “I’ll try.” At least his tone was more positive than the last time.

      Donning his jacket, Will left, zigzagging between the tables, his long strides taking him to the door in a matter of seconds.

      Without thinking, Miranda set down her tray on the end of the bar and announced to Cissy, “I’m on break. Be back in ten,” then hurried after Will.

      “Hey!” the other server called out.

      She kept going, ignoring the twinge of guilt pricking at her. She’d make it up to Cissy later.

      Will beat her through the door and was halfway around the side of the building by the time she burst outside.

      Holy, schmoley, it was cold! She should have remembered her coat. Well, there was no going back now.

      Hugging herself, she ducked around the building and came upon Will checking the cinch on his saddle before mounting. The horse bobbed its head in eager anticipation.

      Miranda wasted no time. “Will!”

      He turned, surprise registering on his face. “I left the money for my tab on the bar.”

      “It’s not that.”

      “What then?”

      She started to shiver, from nerves as much as the cold. Clearly she should have thought this plan through a little more, come up with an excuse for waylaying him. And remembered her coat.

      Her shivering increased until she was shaking. “P-p-please come visit Mrs. L-L-Litey.”

      “You’re freezing.” He took a step toward her.

      “For h-her sake. N-n-not mine.”

      “Dammit, Miranda.”

      The distance separating them disappeared. In the next instant he was wrapping her in his arms and drawing her against his chest. It felt nice. He rubbed her arms, creating a soothing friction. She burrowed deeper, and a sound of contentment slipped out before she could stop herself. His arms tightened their hold.

      She