A Little Bit of Holiday Magic. Melissa McClone

“—help a person grow to be tall and strong. I’m sure Mr. Paulson didn’t become a firefighter by eating junk food and drinking soda.”

      Grace sounded like a mom. Duh. She was one. He wasn’t helping her out here. “Your mom’s correct, Liam. Eat lots of vegetables, fruit and protein if you want to grow up to be tall and strong like me.”

      She stared down her nose at Bill. “Modest.”

      Her tone and look screamed not interested. That only piqued his. “Humility is a virtue.”

      Grace opened her mouth, but didn’t say a word. She looked away, then took a bite of her cookie.

      Bill knelt next to her. Wet hair dampened Grace’s shirt. She wasn’t busty, but had curves in the places that mattered. She smelled good in spite of being wet, a mix of vanilla and cinnamon and something he couldn’t place. “Let’s see how you’re doing.”

      Holding the cookie, she crossed her arms tight over her chest. “I’m okay. The snow washed away the powder from the air bag.”

      “Looking you over won’t take long.”

      She scooted back. “I’m good.”

      He cut the distance between them. “Let me make sure.”

      Grace stood. Every motion seemed to take effort. A battle of fatigue and stress and shock, one she was losing. “You’ve done enough.”

      His gaze ran the length of her, checking for obvious injuries. He didn’t see any. “Show me where the seat belt straps hit you.”

      “It’s not necessary. I told you, the air bag—”

      “If you stiffened prior to impact, you’re going to be sore.”

      “I’m—”

      “I’m trying to do my job here. That’s all. Please let me examine you.” He was losing patience. “I have to determine if you need to go to the hospital tonight.”

      She nibbled on her lip.

      “Would it make a difference if I put on my uniform?” he asked.

      “None whatsoever.” Her firm voice left no doubt she was serious. “I appreciate you letting us get warm, but I need to find a place to stay tonight.”

      “You’re not going anywhere unless it’s the hospital.”

      She glanced out the window. “But—”

      “The weather’s wicked. You’re staying here tonight. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

      Forget deer in headlights. Grace’s expression made her look as if she’d been flattened by a semi. “That’s—”

      “Your only option.”

      Her mouth twisted.

      He wasn’t deterred. “I have two spare bedrooms. Use one or both.” Bill pointed to her coat. “You may feel warmer without your wet jacket and shoes, but you need to change clothes.”

      Grace rubbed the back of her neck.

      “Sore?” he asked.

      “Fine.” She moistened her lips. “All my clothes are in the truck.”

      “I have something you can wear. Be right back.” Bill sprinted to his bedroom and grabbed a pair of flannel pajamas, a Christmas gift last year from his parents. Well, from his mom. His dad usually arrived home on Christmas Eve and was out the door on the twenty-sixth, leaving Bill to become his mom’s entire world again. Maybe if he’d had a sibling, a little brother or sister, things would be different. Better. But Bill hadn’t called for help soon enough. His mother had lost her baby and couldn’t have another.

      Back in the living room, he handed the pajamas to Grace. “They’ll be big on you.”

      She stared at them as if he’d handed her a French maid outfit to wear, complete with fishnet stockings and a feather duster.

      Her jaw tightened. “You want me to wear your pajamas?”

      He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “They’re practically new. I’ve only worn the bottoms a couple times. Flannel is warm. You might be hypothermic.”

      Her suspicious gaze targeted him once more. It was a good thing she wasn’t armed, or he would be a goner.

      “You’re really a firefighter and mountain rescuer?”

      “Check the pictures on the mantel.” He pointed to framed articles and photographs. “And the walls.”

      Looking around, Grace held the pajamas in front of her like a shield.

      Okay, he got it. Got her.

      No wedding ring, and a kid had made her cautious. That was smart. She didn’t know him. Didn’t know her having a child meant he considered her off-limits, a look-don’t-touch, modern-day leper.

      “My job is to help people in trouble. I do that when I’m on the mountain, too,” he said. “That’s all I’m trying to do here.”

      “It’s just...” Grace glanced at Liam, who was playing with Peanut. She touched the boy’s head. “I’ve never been stranded—with a stranger.”

      “No worries. I understand. But you’re safe here. If it makes you feel any better, the bedroom doors lock.”

      Her eyes darkened. “From the inside or outside?”

      That would be funny if she didn’t sound so serious. “I have an idea. I’ll call the sheriff’s office. Let them know about your truck, so they can get it towed. Then you can talk to the sheriff or a deputy. They’ll appease your concerns about staying here tonight.”

      “The sheriff and his deputies will vouch for you?” Only a deaf person would miss her please-someone-tell-me-he’s-not-psychotic plea.

      “I’ve lived in Hood Hamlet my whole life. I know everybody.”

      Grace’s gaze took in the articles and photographs hanging on the wall again. The tension in her face, especially around her mouth, lessened. “Okay. Let’s call the sheriff. I doubt there’s more than one black pickup stuck in a snowbank around here, but in case there is, mine has Georgia plates.”

      “Long way from home.”

      She shrugged.

      Must be a story there. Not his business.

      Even if he was curious...

      CHAPTER TWO

      FIVE MINUTES LATER, Bill took the phone from Grace, who held on to his pajamas with her other hand. The lines creasing her forehead had disappeared, but the wariness in her eyes remained. He hoped that look wasn’t due to something the sheriff had said. “All good now?”

      “The sheriff said Liam and I would be safe with you.” Her voice sounded stronger, but her words had a nervous edge. She rubbed her fingertips against the pajamas. “He’s going to take care of my truck.”

      “Truck,” Liam repeated. “I like trucks. Big ones.”

      “Me, too.” The kid was cute. So was the mom. If she would quit acting as if Bill was a murderer. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. At least her toes weren’t frostbitten. “Something’s still bothering you.”

      Her hands stopped fidgeting with the pajamas. “You’re perceptive.”

      “Sometimes.” Bill wasn’t about to play games with Grace after what she’d been through. “Tell me what’s going on.”

      She looked at Liam, looked at his EMT and wilderness first aid books on the shelf, a snowboard, an old fire helmet, looked at everything in the living room except Bill.

      He took a step closer. “Something’s got you wigged