Hers for the Holidays. Samantha Hunter

      “It’s a beautiful old house,” he said, taking the room in again. “You grew up here.”

      It was a statement, not a question. She didn’t answer.

      “I was really sorry to find out about your mother, Lydia. Are you doing okay?”

      She shrugged again, unwilling to give, and he was unsure what he was supposed to do, so he turned back to the wall.

      “Who’s the other girl in this birthday photo?”

      “You shouldn’t be here,” she said sharply.

      There it was. Might as well get it over with now.

      “If it wasn’t me, it would have been Tessa. She was worried sick about you.”

      He saw the flash of guilt in her eyes, and she looked down at the floor as she responded. “I know. I meant to get in contact with her, but it’s been busy.”

      “Too busy to let her know you were okay? Where you were? Or too worried that she’d find out everything you told her about your life before Philly was a lie?”

      Straightening, Lydia took a step into the room. “I don’t need to explain any of this to you or to anyone, for that matter. You had no right to poke around in my life. My mother died. I’m here to settle everything, and that’s no one’s business but mine. Why would you care anyway? I thought you were off...somewhere.”

      Ely took a step closer, too, feeling the draw. He figured if he’d come this far, he might as well go the rest of the way. As he moved in, he picked up the clean scent of her soap and shampoo and his body hummed with recognition.

      “Why did you leave? You look happy, in these pictures. What happened?”

      “Nothing. I just needed to get out. What are you going to tell Tessa?”

      “I’m not sure yet. I need to let her know you’re okay, at least.”

      Lydia frowned.

      “Or you could do that yourself. I don’t need to tell her anything.”

      “I’d prefer if you didn’t. It’s not your place.”

      He nodded. She was right about that.

      “What did Kyle mean about someone causing you trouble?”

      Lydia rolled her eyes. “Kyle has an active imagination.”

      “I don’t think so. What’s been going on?”

      “I’m serious. Don’t go playing bodyguard on me, Ely. Nothing is going on.”

      They stood, closer now, facing off, and Ely was getting tired of the verbal thrust and parry. He had to curl his fingers in to stop from touching her. Or shaking her. She was stubborn and seemed set against giving in. Or just intent to give him a hard time.

      It wasn’t enough to make him want to let her off the hook. If she was in trouble, he wanted to know.

      “I won’t leave until I know for sure, Lydia,” he said calmly and saw anger flicker in the depths of her eyes. It traveled down to her cheeks and blossomed there. When she licked her lips before speaking, his response was sharp and true, like a shot of adrenaline through his system.

      “Fine, whatever,” she said, throwing her hands up and walking into the kitchen. He took a deep breath and followed.

      She paused at the entry, taking in the room. “Thanks for cleaning up—you didn’t need to do all that.” She sounded surprised.

      “I didn’t mind. It looked personal, if you want my opinion. Strangers might steal something, or look for valuables, but this was more like someone wants to scare you. Or send a message. So again, who would do this? Or at least, why?”

      “Maybe it was those guys from earlier who followed me back here,” she said as she grabbed a teakettle from the stove.

      Ely shook his head. “No one followed you back. I made sure.”

      “How could you? Where is your truck?” she said, yet again avoiding his question.

      “Down the road, in a ditch.”

      “I didn’t see you following me,” she said, frowning.

      “I’m really good at it.”

      She paused. “You won’t be able to get to it now. The snow’s coming down too hard. There are two extra rooms upstairs, or you can have the couch.”

      She came to the table with two glasses of hot, black tea, setting one down in front of him. Ely didn’t really care for tea, but he picked it up and took a sip anyway. Glancing down at the expanse of her ankle exposed when she crossed one leg over the other, he was distracted by both the fuzzy pink slippers that she wore and the tattooed vine that wound around her ankle and calf. He knew that it continued up the length of her smooth thigh, providing a path to the sweetest bit of sin he’d ever known.

      “It’s not as bad as I thought. Whoever it was didn’t break any of the important stuff,” she said.

      “Important stuff?”

      “Yeah, like those yellowware bowls on the counter—they are probably close to one hundred years old. Or the antique glass in that cupboard. Those were my mother’s favorites, all Depression-Era, some very valuable. They ripped some random stuff out of the cupboards, the dinner plates we always use, even the dirty ones in the sink. Nothing valuable. Strange, but lucky, I guess.”

      “They just wanted to make noise, shake you up.”

      “Well, they succeeded, at least for a minute or two,” she said, blowing out a breath. “But I think you and Kyle are wrong. It was probably just teens out looking for a rush.”

      “In this storm? In the middle of the week, way out here? The house has been empty for weeks, and just now they decide to come in and trash it?” Ely argued. “People know you are here—it’s a small town. I assume word spreads fast. So, what kind of trouble are you in?” he asked, cutting to the chase.

      Lydia leveled a cool stare back at him.

      “I don’t need to be rescued, Ely. Thanks, anyway.”

      Ely set his cup down. He could be stubborn, too.

      “Well, if someone is bothering you, this time they came inside your house, Lydia, while you were at home, sleeping. That’s not harmless teenage harassment, or some kind of coincidence. It means they’re willing to escalate the situation if you don’t do something to stop it.”

      “I am going to do something about it. I’m going to leave, as soon as I can,” she said calmly, shaking her head as she indirectly admitted to him that there had been a problem.

      Her hands betrayed her cool tone; they trembled slightly when she picked up her tea. She wasn’t as indifferent as she was pretending to be.

      “You might as well hit the sack so you can get up early and have Kyle pull your truck out, so you can leave.”

      Ely nearly smiled at her bluntness.

      “Not until I know you’re okay. Tessa would have my head. Maybe I should stay here until you go back to Philly. Keep an eye on things.”

      She stood, looking almost as panicked as she had earlier.

      “No, I don’t think so.”

      “I’m technically still on vacation, and it’s a nice town. I’ve never been to Montana. Seems like as nice a place to spend Christmas as anywhere.”

      “Why are you doing this? Just leave me alone,” she said tightly. “I don’t know if you have some fantasy about saving me, or thinking we’re going to continue what we had that night, but we’re not. It was a one-night thing, Ely, that’s it.”

      Before she could turn away from him, pushing him away, he spun her around to face