The Christmas Stranger. Beth Cornelison

femininity. She’d asked if he was a guardian angel, but if he were a betting man, he’d wager she was the angel. She sure looked the part.

      She blinked and fumbled as if his question surprised her. “Oh, well, I…of course. In fact, I, um…have chili cooking in the Crock-Pot.”

      He lowered his brow. “I’m not sure the cat will like anything spicy.”

      She tipped her head at an endearing angle. “The cat? I…was inviting you to have some dinner before I drove you back to town.”

      “Oh.” Matt shifted his feet uneasily. Being on the receiving end of charity still rankled. But to survive the toughest months recently, he’d had to swallow his pride. “I wasn’t asking for myself. I meant do you have cat food?”

      Holly’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, chuckling awkwardly. “Sorry. I thought…but you are welcome to have some chili before you go back to town. I have plenty.”

      “I don’t want to impose.”

      She waved off his demurral. “It’s the least I can do.”

      Matt hesitated. A hot meal in the company of a beautiful woman did sound appealing. But…

      He glanced down at his dirty clothes and grubby hands. He hated the slip in his hygiene of late. Without access to a washing machine or a working shower, he’d had to make concessions that made him cringe. He was hardly fit company for Holly in his disheveled and dingy state. His gut churned with disgust, frustration and shame. He hated where his life had ended up, but he had only to think of his children to know he’d make the same choices again if he were in the same position. His needs ranked a distant second to providing a secure, happy, healthy life for Palmer and Miles.

      “I, um…” Staring down at his hands, he turned up his palms and ground his teeth together, swallowing the bitter taste that rose in his throat. Humble pie was not a sweet dish for a man who’d once been on top and had the world at his feet.

      “You can use the shower off the guest room if you want before we eat.”

      He glanced up and found Holly watching him with a genuine openness and warmth.

      “And I still have some of my husband’s clothes that I think will fit you. You’re welcome to them. They’re not doing me any good collecting dust in my closet.”

      Matt held Holly’s gaze, searched her face. If he’d seen even a hint of pity or hesitation in her expression, he’d have refused. He’d have hit the road.

      He’d want to die on the spot.

      But her smile was friendly and warm. Honest and unassuming.

      “Okay.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and returned a grateful smile. “You’re very gracious.”

      “Maybe.” Her grin brightened with a teasing glint. “Or maybe I’m tired of all the selfishness in society and want to be a good neighbor. Like you were for me.”

      A happiness Matt hadn’t known in a long time bubbled up from beneath the layers of guilt, frustration and humiliation. A burst of laughter erupted from him. “In that case, I accept. But let me unload the stained glass for you first.”

      She winked. “Deal.”

      He followed her back to her Tacoma, indulging in a leisurely glance at her slim, swaying hips as she crossed her leaf-strewn lawn.

      Holly’s matter-of-fact acceptance was a refreshing change from the condescending glares and judgmental comments he usually received from strangers. Her kindness and honesty stirred a hopeful warmth in his gut. Her simple beauty and girl-next-door smiles awoke a purely male response that heated his blood. And the hint of sadness that lurked in her eyes spoke to the man who’d seen his own share of tragedy and loss.

      Matt wasn’t gullible enough to believe in love at first sight, but something about Holly spoke to his soul, and he treasured the opportunity to get to know her better.

      Even if he knew their current stations in life meant he had no future with her.

      As she chopped a tomato for a salad later that evening, Holly heard the upstairs water cut off. Inhaling deeply, she stared down at the vegetable on her chopping board and worked to clear her mind of the sultry images of Matt in the shower that taunted her. After changing into jeans and a Snoopy T-shirt, she’d left towels, a disposable razor, clean clothes and a few toiletry items on the guest bed for Matt. While he showered, she’d taken his dirty clothes to wash.

      Helping Matt felt good. Though she volunteered at the Community Aid Center a couple days a month, dishing up lunch to the masses and reading books to young children didn’t seem as valuable a contribution as giving Matt a chance to clean up and have a hot meal. The personal connection made all the difference.

      She’d seen Matt be a friendly, helpful man and been compelled to respond in kind. Considering he had saved Tommy’s life, a shower and supper were the least Matt deserved.

      As Holly scraped the chopped tomato onto the salad, her phone rang.

      “Hello?” She cradled the receiver between her shoulder and ear, while she started peeling carrots.

      “Hey, sis! Happy Halloween!”

      The youngest of the three Bancroft sisters, Zoey, sounded as bubbly and full of life as ever. Holly could well imagine Zoey decked out in some outrageous costume befitting her wild and rebellious personality. “Hey yourself. What’s the plan for the Bancroft sisters down in Lagniappe this Halloween?”

      “Well, I’m going to a party, but Paige’s wimping out. I tell you, Hol, that stuffed shirt she’s marrying is sucking all the fun outta our sister. She’s trying to conform to some Stepford Wife mentality that he’s brainwashed her with and never does anything without his approval. It’s sick.”

      Given that Zoey was prone to hyperbole, Holly didn’t let this report on their newly engaged older sister concern her. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.”

      “Oh, but it is! She spends all her time with Brent. I can barely get her on the phone anymore, because he’s keeping her so busy with the most ridiculous wedding details. I mean, who really cares if she wears white stockings or tan? No one sees her legs under her gown anyway.”

      “Give her a break, Zoey. When I married Ryan, I wanted everything to be perfect, too. Remember?”

      “But at least you spent time with your sisters before you let your husband drag you off to North Carolina.”

      Holly laughed. “You make it sound like Ryan brought me to Siberia.”

      “Might as well be. I miss not having you here in Lagniappe.”

      Holly sighed and experienced a tug of nostalgia for her family home in Louisiana. “I miss you, too, kiddo. Remember, the invite to come see me for Thanksgiving is still open.”

      “Thanks, but you know I don’t plan that far in advance.”

      That was Zoey—the rebel, the party girl, living in the moment.

      Holly sensed the change in Zoey’s mood even before the familiar question came. “How are you doing, Holly?”

      In other words, how was the poor widowed sister managing alone? Holly pinched the bridge of her nose and took the question in the spirit it was intended. Her family loved her and worried about her. Especially since Ryan’s murder. They’d been surprised when she’d opted to stay in North Carolina after his death rather than return to her parents’ home in Lagniappe. She may have grown up in Louisiana, but Morgan Hollow and the farmhouse she’d bought with Ryan were her home now.

      “I’m fine, Zoey. Really.” Holly heard footsteps on the stairs and added, “And I have company right now, so I need to go.”

      “You’re ditching me, too?”

      “Sorry. I’ll call