His For Christmas. Michelle Douglas

did you know they were melt-in-your-mouth? Are you sampling the cookies, Miss McGuire? Tut-tut.” He heard her bite back laughter.

      Why were the simplest things such a joy with her?”

      “Mrs. Bonnabell sent—

      “Look, it sounds like you have plenty of cookies. You won’t even need the box of Peek Freans I sent over.”

      “That is hardly the point, Mr. Hathoway.”

      “What is the point?”

      “Everyone else made the effort.”

      “Fine. I’ll ask Molly to whip me up a batch of brown snowmen, with ribbons around their necks, holding Christmas parcels. Individually decorated.”

      “Your listening skills are very good, Mr. Hathoway.”

      “Thank you.” Ridiculous to feel pleased that she had noticed how closely he listened to her every word. However, he guessed.

      “However,” Morgan continued, “I don’t really think it’s fair to ask Molly to contribute to our class project.”

      “I don’t know how to make cookies.”

      “Well, yes, I understand that. It is a situation that can be remedied. I mean, a few short weeks ago, I didn’t know how to hang a coat hanger.”

      “You’re not exactly ready to start building furniture.”

      “No, I suppose not.”

      Said a bit doubtfully, as if she might actually be considering trying to build some furniture. He reminded himself he’d have to follow up on getting her a new hammer before she wrecked something else trying to use the one she had.

      “The point is,” Morgan said, “I was willing to learn. If you and Ace would like to come over this afternoon after school, I would be happy to teach you how to make Christmas cookies.”

      His schedule had become insane because of the volunteer hours he was putting in on the set of The Christmas Angel. He still had special orders he had to get out for Christmas, as well as the gate commission.

      Plus, he was avoiding Morgan. And her lips. And the clear invitation he had seen in her eyes the other night after the disastrous sleigh ride. Boy, if a sleigh ride like that couldn’t scare a girl off, what would?

      And there was the other disastrous thing, too. Telling her about Cindy and David had poked a little hole in the dam of feelings walled up within him…He was all too aware that he might be like the little boy hoping his finger poked in that hole was going to be enough to hold it back.

      The thing was, her voice on the other end of the phone was like a lifeline thrown to a man who had been in the water so long he didn’t even know he was drowning.

      The thing was, he knew it had cost her to make the move, and he could not bear to hurt her. It seemed she had experienced quite enough hurt in her life. Not at the hands of fate, either, but at the hands of the very people who should have loved and protected her.

      Though there was probably a far more sensible way of looking at that. Hurt her a little now. Or a lot later.

      He didn’t feel like being sensible. Or maybe, closer to the truth, he was not as sure as he had been a few weeks ago about what sensible was.

      “Sure,” he said, as if he grabbed lifelines every single day. “What time would you like us to come make cookies?”