A Mummy for Christmas. Cathy Gillen Thacker

I guess that went okay,” Holly whispered.

      He nodded, looking just as uncertain as she felt. Probably because every time the two of them thought they had a situation as tricky as this one handled, it turned out to be not handled, after all. Travis gathered up the pizza boxes and the trash sack. “I’ll take this out.”

      Trying not to think how cozy domestic moments like this felt, Holly forced herself to concentrate on the minutiae of her life instead. “Would you mind getting my mail while you’re out there?” she asked. “I think I forgot to bring it in after work.”

      “No problem. I’ll get mine, too.” Travis headed out.

      Holly loaded the dishwasher.

      Travis walked back in, a stack of mail in each hand. “You want to get our trees this weekend?”

      Holly nodded. It was something they usually did together. It was easier having another adult helping when trying to select, purchase and wrangle a tree on top of the car in a busy parking lot.

      “Saturday morning okay with you?” he asked.

      “Sounds perfect.” She looked up at him with a smile.

      It was funny, Holly mused, how at ease she felt with him. At thirty-six, he bore the perennial tan of someone who spent a great deal of time working outdoors. His dark brown hair was cut in short, casual layers that withstood the elements and the restless movements of his large, capable hands. Like Holly, Travis was a native Texan. He had big ideas, and even bigger goals, and a practical down-to-earth nature she found immensely comforting.

      He was also—not that it mattered—a very good-looking man. And quite masculine as well. At six-foot-three-inches tall, he had the big-boned, broadshouldered build one would expect of a construction worker. A ruggedly chiseled face. Dark chocolate eyes that saw more than he ever said.

      He dressed nicely, too. At work, he wore Levi’s, canvas shirts, vests and heavy steel-toed boots. The required yellow hard hat. In his off time, the garments he wore were much more expensive. Like the dark brown cashmere sweater he had on tonight, tugged over a T-shirt, with a newer pair of Levi’s. His boots were made of really nice, soft brown leather.

      He smelled great, too. Like Old Spice and soap, baby shampoo and man…

      “Earth to Holly,” Travis teased in a low sexy voice, abruptly jerking her back to reality. Startled, she met his grin. “Do you want it or not?” he asked mildly, still trying to hand over the day’s mail.

      TRAVIS DIDN’T KNOW WHAT was on Holly’s mind.

      It wasn’t like her to lapse into daydreams, unless she was working on a mural. Then she was likely to drift off into that creative place in her heart and mind that brought her so much joy.

      But when they were just standing around? Talking?

      Never.

      He supposed it should have been expected, though.

      Mrs. Ruley, their shared nanny, could do only so much in the forty hours a week she worked for them. And with both Holly and Travis working full-time, parenting solo, and Christmas coming up faster than a speeding train…

      She had a right to be distracted, he thought as he watched her sort through her mail. But not…unhappy. “Holly?” he asked, wondering why her hands were shaking and her face had abruptly gone so pale. “What is it?”

      “I don’t know,” she whispered. She tore open the envelope in her hands, removed the letter and began to read. Her face paled even more. “Oh, no,” she cried.

      Travis glanced at the kids—they were still entranced by the antics of the monkey and the man in the yellow hat.

      His hand around Holly’s shoulder, Travis guided her into the mudroom, off the kitchen, where they could talk quietly without being overheard by their brood. “Tell me,” he insisted.

      “It’s a letter from Martin Shield, Cliff’s attorney,” Holly said, looking even more distraught.

      Knowing this did not sound good, Travis folded his arms in front of him. He kept his voice even and matter-of-fact. “And…?”

      Holly swallowed. “He wants to meet with me. He says Cliff wants to ‘revisit’ the matter of custody and visitation of the kids. That we can do it in court, if I wish, but they would prefer to do it less formally, at least initially.”

      Talk about a kick in the gut! And at Christmas, no less, Travis thought. But then what could you expect from a heartless investment banker who had walked out on Holly when the twins were just barely a month old? “I thought he relinquished all rights at the time of the divorce.”

      “Cliff ceded full custody to me, and waived his rights to visitation. But he is still the twins’ legal father.”

      “What about child support?”

      “With the court’s permission, Cliff established very generous trust funds for the twins in lieu of monthly child support, and gave me enough money to buy a house and get back on my feet.”

      “So it’s not about money.”

      “No. He did way more on that score than he had to do. In that sense, he is a very responsible guy.”

      “Just not in the personal arena,” Travis muttered.

      Holly lifted her chin, as if surprised by the emotion in his voice, just as he was. Although maybe he shouldn’t have been, Travis thought. He’d come to love Holly’s little boys as much as he loved his own children. And he knew Holly felt the same way about his daughters.

      He shrugged and followed that with a very sober, searching look. “Sorry, but what kind of bastard leaves a woman with two adorable kids? Asks not to be apprised of their welfare or progress, only to come back over three years later and want to reopen the custody case?”

      Holly flashed a wan smile and said finally, in a wry attempt at a joke, “My ex-husband?”

      Another silence fell. Every protective instinct Travis had surged to life. “When does the attorney want to see you?”

      “As soon as possible.” She released a short, impatient breath and continued to hold his eyes like a warrior princess in battle. “He says if I call his office, he’ll fit me in.”

      Travis’s frown deepened. “Are you going to do it?”

      “What choice do I have?” Holly grumbled, keeping her voice slightly above a whisper. “I mean, I could hire a lawyer, but I don’t want to do that—I don’t want to go back to court unless I absolutely have to.”

      Travis couldn’t blame her for that. What he knew of divorce court, from those who had been forced to appear there, was not pleasant or pretty. And it would be especially unpleasant at this time of year, which should all be about love and joy, hope and giving. “Want me to go with you?”

      Holly nearly sagged with relief. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d really appreciate it,” she said, squeezing his hand. “It’ll be a whole lot easier to face this crisis with you at my side.”

      Chapter Two

      Travis and Holly sat side by side in the elegant law firm reception area. They were ten minutes early and she was a bundle of nerves, wondering what this was all about.

      “So I was thinking…” Travis said quietly, in his attempt to distract her while they waited. His arm nudged hers as he bent his head nearer. “Maybe there is a way to give the kids what they want for Christmas, or pretty close to it.”

      Jerked out of her reverie, Holly turned to face him. Like her, he was dressed for a business meeting, instead of the construction clothes he normally wore to work. And although she had seen him many times in a suit before, she was struck as always by how handsome and successful he looked.

      “What are you talking about?” she blurted, before she could stop