Christmas In Snowflake Canyon. RaeAnne Thayne

I’m doing a hell of a job, aren’t I?”

      Genevieve flashed him a quick look. “Better than I would in your situation,” she answered truthfully.

      “You would probably start designing a fashion line for one-armed pirate wannabes and go on to make millions of dollars.”

      She laughed. “The only one-armed pirate wannabe I know doesn’t seem particularly interested in fashion.”

      He gave her a mock offended look. “What do you mean? I wore a bolo, didn’t I? I thought I was going for the hipster look.”

      “Or something,” she answered.

      He snorted but said nothing as they moved toward the door at the end of the hall where she could see the flickering blue of water.

      “You were wrong the other day,” she said when they nearly reached it.

      He paused and gave her a curious look. “You’ll have to be more specific. I’m wrong about a lot of things.”

      She fiercely wished she hadn’t said anything but she couldn’t figure out a way to back down now.

      “Er, you implied I flinched away when you touched me—that I was, I don’t know, disgusted or something because you’re, er, missing your arm. That wasn’t it. You just...” Her voice trailed off.

      “I just...” he prodded.

      “You make me nervous,” she said in a rush. “It has nothing to do with any eye patch or...or missing hand. It’s just...you.”

      His eyebrow rose and he studied her for a long moment, so long she could feel herself flush. “How refreshingly honest of you, Ms. Beaumont.”

      “I just didn’t want you to think I’m— What’s the word you used? Er, chickenshit.”

      He laughed as she pushed open the door to the pool area and the sound echoed through the cavernous space.

      Several people congregating beside the pool looked over at the sound and Genevieve recognized Spence Gregory and Dylan’s sister, Charlotte, as well as a man in a wheelchair and another woman she didn’t know.

      “I wasn’t sure you would make it,” Spence said to Dylan when they reached them, holding out his hand. After a slight pause, Dylan took it.

      “Why does everybody keep saying that?” he asked.

      “No reason.” Charlotte hugged him and he gave her an awkward sort of pat with his right arm.

      “I’m so glad you agreed to do this,” his sister said.

      “You made it impossible for me to refuse, didn’t you?”

      “Don’t blame me. It was all Pop’s idea, and Andrew’s the one who ran with it. Though I probably should confess that Spence might have mentioned to Harry Lange how much we’d like to have you volunteer here and I believe Harry might have mentioned it to Judge Richards during one of their poker games.”

      Charlotte stepped away from her brother and gave Genevieve a cool smile. “Hello, Genevieve. We’re glad you agreed to help, too. We have a strong core of volunteers already, but we’re always glad for more.”

      Genevieve had enough experience with polite falsehoods to recognize one when she heard it. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Charlotte probably blamed her for her brother’s troubles in the first place.

      “I’m happy to help.” She was an old hand at polite falsehoods herself.

      Spencer Gregory stepped up. “Good to see you again. I didn’t have the chance to say hello when we saw you at the airport last week.”

      He really was gorgeous up close. She didn’t follow baseball but she knew Smokin’ Hot Spence Gregory was a nickname given only in part for the man’s fastball. Oddly, despite those long lashes and that particularly charming smile, he didn’t make her nerves flutter at all, unlike others in the room she could mention.

      “My father loved to tell business associates from out of town how you used to be our paper boy.”

      “I hope I was a good one.”

      “The best, according to my father.”

      Spence smiled and gestured to the other two people. “Dylan, Genevieve, this is Eden Davis, our executive director, and Mac Scanlan, who just started this week as our program coordinator.”

      “What is your role at A Warrior’s Hope?” Genevieve asked, trying to keep things straight in her head.

      “I’m the director of the entire recreation center. A Warrior’s Hope is only one part of what we do here.”

      “But it was his idea and he’s the fundraising genius behind it.” Charlotte smiled with far more warmth than she had shown Genevieve. Spence aimed that charmer of a grin down at her, and even if she hadn’t seen them together at the airport, she would have easily picked up that the two of them were together.

      The once-fat-and-frumpy Charlotte Caine was involved with Smokin’ Hot Spence Gregory. She still couldn’t quite believe it.

      “It’s become Charlotte’s baby, too. She organizes all the volunteers.”

      “What do you think we’ll be doing?” she asked. “I’m really good at filing, correspondence, that kind of thing. And I’ve had a little experience with fundraising for a few charities my family supports.”

      “Just for the record, I’m not good at any of those things,” Dylan offered.

      Charlotte gave her brother a sly smile. “I’ve got just the project for both of you. Yesterday Sam Delgado, our contractor, and his crew put the finishing touches on several cabins for our guests. The first group to use them will be coming in first thing Monday morning. Before they arrive, we need to decorate the cabins for Christmas. That’s where you two come in.”

      CHAPTER FIVE

      THIS WAS HIS version of hell.

      Yeah, he had spent a combined total of six of the past ten years in the Middle East through his various deployments, four of those in direct combat. He was a trained army ranger, sent in to dangerous hot spots for difficult missions.

      He had seen and done things that kept him up nights—and had spent months in rehab, a very special kind of misery.

      He would rather go back to living in a tent where the sand seeped into every available crevice, wearing seventy-five pounds of gear in a-hundred-twenty-degree weather without showering for weeks, than endure this torture his wicked sister had planned for him.

      He stood in a large storage room in a back corner of the recreation center surrounded by boxes and crates.

      “Isn’t there something else I could be doing right now?” he asked, with more than a little desperation.

      “I can’t think of a thing,” Charlotte said cheerfully. “We want these cabins to be perfect, a home away from home for these guys—and one woman—while they’re here. We want to make this a perfect holiday.”

      He wanted to tell his sister she was wasting her time, but he had already tooted that particular horn enough.

      “We’ll do a fabulous job. Don’t worry.” Genevieve beamed with excitement. Why shouldn’t she? This was probably right up her alley. Hang some lights, put up a few ornaments. Nothing so uncomfortable as actually talking to any wounded veterans—present company excluded.

      He remembered what she had said earlier—that he made her nervous and it had nothing to do with his physical disfigurements.

      He didn’t believe her. Not really. How could he? She was a perfect, pampered little princess and he was scarred and ugly. They were Beauty and the Beast, only this particular beast couldn’t be twinkled back into his old self, the one without missing parts.