were retail shops and restaurants going in on the lower floors, and luxury condominiums taking up the top floors. All in all, it was a pretty impressive project. And Holly’d had work there, too. Right now, she was finishing up a mural in one of the restaurants on the ground level.
“Anyway—” Travis looked at all four kids “—the point is it is December 5, and we need to write new letters to Santa, amending what you asked for into something he can actually bring you.”
“You know,” Holly added for good measure, “something he can actually fit on his sleigh.”
“Like new baby dolls,” Travis told his daughters.
“Or the bikes with training wheels that you boys have been wanting since last summer,” Holly said.
The kids shrugged, their excitement clearly dimmed. “Okay,” Sophie said finally.
“That’s what we want,” Tucker agreed with a disgruntled sigh.
“Can we watch the movie now?” Mia asked. “I want to see what Curious George does tonight!”
“Okay,” Travis said. “But just thirty minutes. And then we’re going home and getting ready for bed. School tomorrow.”
The kids scrambled for places on the L-shaped sectional sofa in Holly’s family room. They lined up together, various blankets and stuffed animals on their laps. Travis set up the DVD player. A second later, the soothing sounds of the video about the monkey and the man in the yellow hat started.
Travis came back into the kitchen.
From where they were standing, they could see the kids. But the children had their backs to them, and were all focused intently on the story unfolding on the TV screen.
“Well, 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
