His Holiday Heart. Jillian Hart

and I didn’t want to waste gas, so I walked.”

      “Why?”

      “You’ve heard about the greenhouse effect? How about that walking increases cardiovascular health?”

      Total silence.

      Great. She took another breath and really wanted the phone call to end. No one—no one—made her more uncomfortable than Spence McKaslin. “Anyway, thanks. Bye.”

      “Wait.” He barked out the word like an order.

      That annoyed her, too. She didn’t want to be annoyed, but it was almost a reflex when it came to Spence. He was a hard man to like.

      “I’m not going to shovel you out with a wind chill of minus twenty and falling, but I will give you a ride home.”

      Oh, joy. Beware of getting what you pray for. She’d wanted help, but she hadn’t wanted it in the form of Spence McKaslin. A grizzly bear would be a friendlier commuting buddy. If there was any simpler solution, she would take it hands down. But she’d been outside only a few minutes, and not a single soul had driven by. Everyone was gone from the other stores and shops in the shopping complex and along the opposite street, so she said the fateful words, “That would be great. Thank you.”

      Accepting his offer wasn’t the most comfortable idea she’d had in awhile, but it beat standing out in an approaching blizzard.

      “I’ll be right there.” He sounded so grim, he could have been accepting an appointment for five consecutive root canals. The line clicked off abruptly.

      Her teeth were clacking together again, so she clenched her jaw. The wind cut through her layers of clothing, past her skin and went right into the hollow of her bones. Yikes, she was cold. But headlights flared to life at the back of the row of stores and swept around snowdrifts and parking curbs in her direction.

      She was too cold to brace herself, as she always had to whenever she was in the vicinity of Mr. McKaslin. She had a short and unpleasant history with him—the unpleasant outweighed the short. When she’d moved from Portland to Bozeman, she joined a reader’s group to get to know some people and because she loved reading. She had made many friends, Katherine McKaslin Munroe, who’d been the assistant manager but who was now on leave, her sisters Danielle, Ava, Aubrey, Lauren and Rebecca. She had heard about the Gray Stone Church from Katherine, joined and made a new circle of friends. But every time she stepped foot inside the bookstore or spotted him in church, Spence scowled at her, turned his back and acted as if she did not exist.

      The ride home ought to be interesting. She wondered if he would even say two words to her. She lived a long way from town. Did she really want to be in Spence’s presence the entire way?

      His huge green truck skidded to a halt beside her. The door swung open. The dome light shone down on the big man, looking bigger in his thick winter coat, and seemed to emphasize his frown. He did not seem happy to see her.

      He wasn’t going to be happy when he found out where she lived. Maybe having him drive out all that way was too much. She could always stay in a downtown hotel. She stepped up into the truck not too clumsily, considering how she was nearly frozen solid. She collapsed on the seat and pulled the door shut, sprinkling large chunks of snow all over the pristine interior. “Sorry,” she said.

      He stared at her without acknowledging her apology. He would be totally handsome if he stopped scowling. He had wide set dark-blue eyes that would put a movie star to shame, high granite cheekbones and a straight blade of a nose. A mouth that might be bracketed by dimples, if he ever actually smiled. He had one of those strong square jaws that spoke of integrity and manliness.

      “Where can I take you?” he asked in a baritone devoid of warmth or friendliness.

      She felt colder in his truck with the heat blasting almost lukewarm than she’d felt outside in the minus degree windchill. Why did she want things to be different between her and Spence? She never could explain her feelings, why she felt sad whenever he behaved this way toward her. He wasn’t the kind of man she even liked.

      But he was a decent man. He was helping her when she really needed help. “Let’s head toward the university.”

      “Sure.” He put the truck in gear. “I know you’re cold, but put on your seat belt.”

      That almost didn’t come out sounding like an order. Wow, this was going so much better than she expected. If only she wasn’t board-stiff in the seat, she would be able to get the seat belt around the fluff of her inches thick coat.

      Take a deep breath, Lucy, she instructed herself. Maybe the problem with Spence McKaslin was that he had always been a total stranger. So what if he had taken care to keep things this way. Maybe this was a God-given opportunity. Maybe her car was snowplowed under several feet of snow for a higher purpose.

      She dropped her bag on the floor, latched the buckle and attempted to relax against the seat. The windows were fogged up and before Spence would drive an inch, he switched the heater to defrost and pulled a folded towel from beneath the seat to wipe the glass.

      The way Spence leered at her out of the corner of his eye made her feel like a slacker.

      “If I reach under my seat, will I find a nifty towel, too?” She asked, wanting to help out.

      “No.”

      That made her wonder what he kept under the passenger seat. Something sensible, she figured, because this was Spence McKaslin—the man who she’d seen crack a smile once, but it had been short-lived and she had been way across the room from him. Definitely something practical, she decided. Probably an emergency tool kit or a first aid kit. It was unlike the mess of books she had beneath hers, which had slipped beneath the seat one by one after she’d left each of them on the floor.

      “Here. If you don’t mind.” He folded the towel over to a dry side and handed it to her.

      Talk about scintillating conversation. For once couldn’t a handsome man—even a scowling, bad-tempered handsome man—look at her and say, “You look lovely, Lucy, even with a frozen nose and your eyelashes iced together”?

      She took the towel from him. “Sure, I’d be happy to.”

      He grunted, nodded once and put the truck in gear. The vehicle rolled forward, and he expertly managed a huge slick of solid ice and turned onto the main road.

      He remained silent as she wiped at the foggy glass. He didn’t say, “This is great. We’ve never really had the chance to get to know one another, so let’s do that now. How about a romantic dinner? Maybe some hot tea afterward in front of a roaring fireplace, and we can talk for hours.”

      No, he didn’t say anything like that. He stared straight ahead as if he were pretending she wasn’t seated right beside him. He didn’t even sneak a look at her. She knew, because she was watching him. It was as if she didn’t exist to him at all.

      Bummer. She wished she could explain what it was about Spence that made her want to like him. It was just her romantic heart, she thought as she folded the towel a final time. The window was clear so she set the towel next to her bag instead of on the leather upholstery. She was a writer for a reason, mostly because this was her life—dull, staid and quiet. If she didn’t have an imagination to spice it up, she’d be lethally bored.

      But not even her imagination was strong enough to figure out how to turn Spence’s silence into polite conversation.

      So she contented herself with watching the windshield wipers swipe from side to side and the huge snowflakes evading them.

      Chapter Two

      Spence squinted through the snow on the window and couldn’t believe his eyes. “This can’t be right. You don’t live in a hotel, do you?”

      “No, but I live way out on Blackhawk Hill, and that’s too far to ask you to drive.”

      “You should have asked me,” he said. The shields were up around