His Mistletoe Family. Ruth Logan Herne

sent her a look that quashed her protest much like it had with troops at home and abroad, and decided that look might come in handy. Or maybe he hoped it would come in handy. Either way, her response was to help the boys while he poured pasta into a pot of salted, boiling water.

      “You cooked for us?”

      “Way easier than cooking for a legion of troops.” He handed her a loaf of crusty bread from the deli area of the store. “And I did that often enough as I worked my way up the ranks.”

      “You served.”

      “Twenty-five years.”

      “Army?”

      “Yup.”

      “Wow.” She turned and stared straight at him, and a part of him hoped the surprise wasn’t because that made him seem really old. Because no way did he want her thinking he was too old. Or off his game. Which was ridiculous because he was both, but right now, here, with her, he didn’t want to be.

      She stepped his way and lay a cool, slim hand against his cheek. “Thank you for doing that.”

      “I was young when I signed up.”

      His words made her flash him a knowing smile. Kind of flirty. And fun.

      “Real young.” He added the qualifier in a deep, rugged tone, driving his point home. It worked. She grinned.

      “Barely out of diapers, no doubt.”

      “Well.” He hedged that one slightly. “Barely old enough to drive, at any rate.”

      “So I shouldn’t think of you as old,” she mused aloud as she set out silverware. “Just seasoned.”

      “Exactly.”

      “Or aged, like vintage wine.”

      “I like seasoned better.”

      “So do I.” She turned and met his look full on and he realized right there and then that his age meant little to her and that felt good. “My mother used to say I was like a little old woman, old before my time.”

      “Was that a compliment?”

      The look she sent him said more than the word. “No.”

      “Ah.” He brought over a big bowl of red sauce and meatballs, but decided they’d share stories another time. Maybe. “Luckily I like mature women.”

      She laughed out loud.

      He liked that she let herself react to a given situation. She didn’t mince words or pretend, she reacted, and while these days that wasn’t considered socially advantageous, he found her spontaneity contagious. And inspiring.

      “I’m so hungry.” Tyler sucked in a deep breath of sauce-scented air. “Brett, I think you’re a really good cooker.”

      “Well, thank you.” He pulled out a chair for Haley and that simple, gentlemanly gesture delighted her. He read it in her face, her smile, her eyes. Her look of pleasure made him feel taller. Broader. Nicer.

      And somewhat adolescent.

      He helped Todd settle himself into the chair, then drained the pasta into a strainer too small to hold the whole pot.

      “Not exactly accustomed to cooking for a crew, huh?”

      He shot Haley a grin. “As you’ll note by the mismatched plates and silverware, LuAnn outfitted me with whatever leftover spoils she had in her kitchen. When you’re on your own, it doesn’t make sense to spend money on things. If I’m eating alone, I can pick any plate I want and it doesn’t need to match anything else.”

      “Matching is overrated,” she assured him as she held up her fork and her knife.

      “Good girl.”

      She preened his way and he had to stop himself from reaching out. Touching her. Damp tendrils of hair were drying in the heat of the small kitchen, leaving curls in their wake, and the sight of those curls made him wonder what it might be like to have a little girl some day, a tiny girl with a head full of blond ringlets. And because he’d never in his life entertained thoughts like this, the fear might have overwhelmed the enticement of home, family and forever if she hadn’t held his gaze with the warm, open smile that was simply Haley Jennings. But she did and he felt like a superhero as a result.

      “I love sketti.” Todd started to dive into the bowl of pasta before him, but Haley held up a hand of caution.

      “Grace first.”

      “Aww...”

      “Do we—”

      Brett solved the objections by taking Tyler’s hand on one side and folding Haley’s into his on the other. Soft, slim and tapered, her fingers fit as if meant to be tucked inside his bigger, broader hands. Once they’d completed the circle he offered a quick grace, pretty sure starving boys wouldn’t sit still for a longer version.

      “Nice timing.” Haley confirmed his decision with a quick glance toward Todd. He was busily scooping bow-shaped pasta as fast as his spoon allowed.

      “Makes me glad I didn’t pick real spaghetti.” Brett indicated Todd with his look. “Although that would be a camera-ready event, I expect.”

      “I’m sure you’re right.” She took another forkful of pasta and meatballs and sighed. “Brett, thank you for this. And for last night. And for just being you.”

      Brett shrugged off her thanks. “None needed. Had to welcome our two little guys, didn’t I?”

      Her quick smile lit up a dusk-filled corner of his heart. Maybe his soul. Although he wasn’t sure he had one anymore. Not that he wasn’t a praying man. No one faced the enemy as often or as steadfastly as the United States Army, and that made a man take mortality seriously. And God more so.

      But while God had kept him safe from harm, his love of the military inspired two people to enlist. Both had lost their lives. Not God’s fault. Not the army’s fault either. But he should have known better. As the older brother of one and the father of the other, he bore the weight of both.

      “You look tired.” Haley’s blue eyes softened, then crinkled in concern. “Are you okay?”

      “Missed some sleep last night. Nothing strange about that.”

      “There was no fire call last night.”

      He sent her a look that wondered where she got the information and drawled out his response. “True.”

      “I know that because Lisa Fitzgerald has a Christmas greens store in the co-op and I asked her about you. Because that’s what girls do,” she explained, smiling. “Who needs Google when we’ve got small-town backyard gossip?” She ignored his little groan, ate another spoonful, then went on. “The Ladies’ Auxiliary teams up with Lisa for all kinds of things. Weed stealing. Pink parties. Flower sales.”

      “So you were on an info mission?” He tipped a grin her way. “Find out anything that put you off? Although Lisa actually likes me because I let her use the corner spot to sell flowers in season and that way she has both sides of town covered for the interstate access. And that weed-stealing crew is nothing to mess with. You can’t find a better bunch of people who get the job done, no muss, no fuss. But I still find it noteworthy that I became the topic of conversation, Haley.”

      She smiled as if talking about him meant something. But in a small town, everyone talked about everyone. Except him. Which made this concept intriguing because women could ferret out covert information faster than Fort Bragg’s finest.

      “We were just talking and your name came up.”

      “Because?”

      Her deepening flush inspired his grin and Brett had a hard time remembering the last time he grinned at a pretty girl on purpose. He’d kept himself off the beaten path since retiring from the army, and in spite of no small number