The Christmas Stranger. Beth Cornelison

and gently patted one of the squirming kittens. “I found a stained-glass window in the next room I want to save, too. It’s pretty heavy, but maybe between the two of us, we could get it to my truck.”

      He met her gaze and nodded. “Sure, let’s have a look.”

      Holly showed him the stained glass and stood back as he hefted it into his arms with little effort. “Lead the way.”

      Taking the steps carefully, keeping near the wall, she led him outside and down the street to her truck. He rested the stained glass on the tailgate while she rearranged some painting supplies in the bed to make room for the window.

      “I’m remodeling my farmhouse, and this glass would be perfect in the entry foyer over the door.”

      “It is beautiful,” he agreed, settling it on the drop cloth she’d spread out. He dusted his hands and gave her a hard look. “You have someone at your house to help you unload it?”

      Holly bit her bottom lip as she thought. “I can call one of my brothers-in-law to come over, perhaps.”

      “What about your husband?”

      Holly’s heartbeat stumbled, and she swallowed hard before she answered. “He died last year.”

      Matt’s face darkened as his eyebrows drew together. “I’m so sorry. I lost my wife a few years ago myself. I know how hard it can be.”

      “I’m sorry for you, too.” Her gaze flicked to the watch on his wrist that he’d told her was from his wife. The timepiece would have been an expensive gift. Had Matt come from a wealthy family? He certainly spoke like an educated man. If so, how had he suffered such a reversal of fortune?

      “Now, about those kittens…” Matt scrubbed a hand on his chin, his beard making a scratching sound that danced down Holly’s spine with a pleasant shiver.

      Holly reached into the truck bed and dumped paint brushes out of a small box. “We can put the babies in here. But the mother won’t come willingly.”

      “Exactly. I was thinking we could wrap her up in a towel or one of those rags upstairs. Wrap her tightly like a mummy. It won’t hurt her, but she won’t be able to struggle and scratch us.”

      Us. He was using the plural pronoun again.

      She frowned. “Matt, I—”

      He held up a hand. “I know what you’re thinking, but…you can’t drive and subdue a frightened cat at the same time. If you’re willing to drive me back into town tonight, I’ll put my arms on the line with the scared feline and help you unload the window at your house.”

      Holly stared at him, debating his argument, his offer. “What’s in it for you? Why would you do that for me?”

      His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Who said there was anything in it for me? Aren’t you a little tired of the selfish attitude society has come to? What happened to being a good neighbor and helping out for the sake of being nice?”

      Holly opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Matt seemed too good to be true. Already today he’d saved a boy’s life without sticking around for the accolades. If she were to believe him, he’d been worried for her safety and come into the abandoned church to make sure she was all right.

      Narrowing a skeptical look on him, she pinched his arm. “Are you for real?”

      He rubbed the offended spot. “Yeah, and that hurt.”

      Holly crossed her arms over her chest. “So you’re not like a guardian angel or something?”

      “Afraid not.” He flashed his white smile, a dimple pocking one cheek and his blue eyes twinkling in the afternoon sun.

      Holly’s pulse fluttered.

      He was undeniably attractive, even with his rumpled clothes and scraggly beard. His eyes were stone-cold sober, and she didn’t smell any alcohol around him. He just didn’t fit any of the stereotypes for vagrants she’d learned over the years.

      She shook her head. “You’re not like most of the men that come to the Community Aid Center for help.”

      “I hope that’s a good thing.” Sobering his expression, he said, “I understand your concern, though. We just met. You don’t know if you can trust me. The whole safety issue, right?”

      She lifted her chin. “A girl has to be careful.”

      “You’re right.” He nodded and stroked his chin again. “You could pat me down to check for weapons.” He raised his arms and gave a devilish wink. “But I’m not carrying.”

      She returned a grin. “Or I could call my brother-in-law, the cop, to run your name through their computer and get the lowdown on you.”

      His smile faltered, and Holly experienced her first real misgivings. Why did mention of the police bother him? She’d been bluffing, but Matt’s reaction spurred her to dig out her cell phone.

      Matt sighed and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Go ahead…if it will put your mind at rest.”

      Holly dialed Robert’s cell and wasted no time with small talk. “Can you check a name out for me? Matt…” She looked to Matt, lifting her hand to invite him to fill in the missing last name.

      “Rankin.”

      “Rankin. Matt Rankin. He have a record?”

      “Is this for the Center?” Robert asked.

      “Uh…yeah,” she lied. “Sorta,” she added to ease her conscience.

      “Just a minute.” She heard the click of computer keys and a silent pause. “Nope, no arrests, but—”

      “But?”

      More clicking keys.

      “Ah. He received unemployment checks at one point, so he is in the system. I show a mailing address at the Woodgate Inn. That help?”

      “Yes, thank you, Robert.”

      Unemployment checks could mean Matt was one of the workers laid off when the local paper mill shut down production, and the Woodgate Inn was low-cost, bare-bones housing near the Community Aid Center. That much of Matt’s story fit.

      “Wanna tell me what this is about?” Robert asked.

      “Not really. I’ll call you later.” She disconnected the call before her brother-in-law could protest.

      Matt lifted an eyebrow, silently asking what she’d learned.

      Holly shoved her phone back in her purse and shrugged. “Apparently Matt Rankin has no record.”

      He lifted a corner of his mouth, his smile guileless. “Then shall we catch a cat?”

      “Stand back.” Matt stood in Holly’s barn, ready to release the mother cat from the wrapping of rags they’d used to secure and transport her to Holly’s home in the country. They’d settled the kittens in a comfortable box-bed with a towel in a safe corner of the barn. Now it was Mama’s turn to see her new home. “She’s bound to be scared and confused. Who knows what she’ll do.”

      Holly nodded and inched back as Matt lowered the bundled cat to the floor and began unwinding the rag-wrapping. Already the cat’s nose, poking out of the rags, twitched and sniffed the fresh air, redolent with the scents of straw and fallen leaves. As the bindings around the cat’s legs loosened, she wiggled and sprang free, leaving a gash on Matt’s arm as she vaulted away and scurried out of the barn.

      Holly’s green eyes rounded with concern. Rushing to the door, she scanned the yard. “She ran under the front porch.”

      “She’ll be fine. She just needs to calm down. I bet in a couple weeks, she’ll be eating out of your hand.” He examined the scratch on his arm and swiped the beading blood on his pants leg. “Speaking of which, do you have food?”