the weight of it suddenly crashed over him, making it difficult to catch his breath. He opened the door, the biting-cold air a welcome distraction.
Fun was no longer part of his repertoire, so he had five minutes to retrieve parts of himself that he’d shut away after the accident. He’d asked for this, and he had to figure out a way to manage it. It was one afternoon in a small mountain town. How difficult could it be?
As it turned out, April could have promised silence to Connor on the way into town. Neither of the girls spoke as they made the slow drive down the curving mountain road. Glancing in the rearview mirror, April saw that Ranie kept her gaze firmly out the window, although the girl seemed lost in her thoughts rather than intent on the view. Shay couldn’t seem to take her eyes off Connor, who was sitting still as a statue next to April. The little girl was studying him as if he was a puzzle with a missing piece.
Two missing pieces, she thought. She’d endured losses in life but couldn’t imagine the pain he must have felt losing his wife and son. The need to comfort and care for him crawled up her spine, coming to rest at the base of her neck, uncomfortable and prickly like an itch she couldn’t quite reach. That inclination in her was her greatest strength and biggest weakness, but mixed with her body’s reaction to Connor, it was downright insanity.
Sara was forever trying to find a man for April. It had become her friend’s singular mission to see April happy and in love. April had gone on dates with a few nice men, but ended things before they got remotely serious.
She’d been in love once, thought she and her ex-husband had been happy, but understood now that was only an illusion. When her marriage had ended, she’d vowed never to make herself vulnerable to anyone again. She’d convinced herself she was content on her own. It had been easy enough to believe, especially since she hadn’t felt the heavy pull of physical desire for a man since her divorce.
Until a rushing awareness of the man next to her had buried all of her hard-won peace in an avalanche of need and longing she could barely process.
As if sensing the thread of her tangled thoughts, Connor shot her a glance out of the corner of his eyes. Barely a flicker of movement, but she felt it like an invisible rope tugging her closer. His gaze went back to the road after a second, and she noticed his knuckles were white where his fingers gripped his dark cargo pants. He was nervous, she realized, and somehow that chink in his thick, angry armor helped her regain her composure.
There was so much sorrow and loss swirling through this car, and it was up to her to ease the pain. Christmas was a time for joy and hope, and she was going to give a little bit of it to these three people under her care.
“I forgot to turn on the radio,” she said, making her voice light.
Ranie groaned from the backseat. “Not more corny holiday music.”
April flipped on the radio and the SUV’s interior was filled with a voice singing about grandma and a reindeer. “That’s called karma,” April told the girl with a laugh. “You said ‘corny’ and that’s what we’ve got.” She sang along with the silly song for a couple of bars and felt her mood lighten. Maybe it was so many winter breaks spent working retail during high school and college, but holiday music always made her feel festive.
“Santa and his reindeer fly,” Shay said brightly as the song ended. “Why would the grandma get run over if she was walking?”
“Kid has a point,” Connor muttered.
April smiled at his grouchiness because at least he was talking and he’d loosened his death grip on his pant legs. “Maybe it was when Santa’s sleigh was taking off after delivering presents,” she told Shay, “so he was still on the ground.”
“But shouldn’t he take off from the roof?” Shay asked.
She glanced at Connor for help. He arched his brow and didn’t say anything.
April turned off the mountain road onto the two-lane highway that led toward downtown Crimson. She met Ranie’s gaze in the rearview mirror as she pulled up to a stop sign at the bottom of the hill.
The girl rolled her eyes, then looked at her sister. “Maybe they didn’t have a chimney at their house,” she said, her tone gentler than April would have expected from the sullen tween. “And Santa was parked in the backyard. Remember how Mom told you he’s magic? That’s how he can deliver all the toys and find kids even if they’re visiting family for Christmas.”
“So even though we’re not with Aunt Tracy in Hawaii, he’ll know to find us in Colorado?”
Ranie nodded. “Yep. Besides, it’s just a song, Shay. Santa wouldn’t really run over someone’s grandma.”
“Thanks, Ranie.” The young girl reached over and took her sister’s hand. April saw Ranie’s eyes close as her chest rose and fell with a breath so weighty it was a wonder the girl’s shoulders didn’t cave under it. April wanted to cry for the unfairness of a twelve-year-old who was her sister’s emotional anchor.
Tears wouldn’t help these girls. But holiday spirit might. She turned up the volume for a classic remake of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” and sang the part that Margaret Whiting had made famous. “Want to be the man?” she asked, glancing at Connor as she eased onto the exit for downtown.
“I am a man,” he answered, his tone grumbly.
“She meant in the song, silly,” Shay called from the backseat.
“I don’t know the words.”
“April knows the words to all the Christmas songs,” Shay said.
“It’s like a curse,” Ranie added.
One side of his mouth curved.
“What’s your favorite holiday song, Connor?” April asked, slowing the car as they hit the steady stream of traffic that bottlenecked Crimson’s main street throughout the winter ski season.
He gave her a look like she’d just asked whether he wanted his hands or feet cut off first.
“Everyone has a favorite song,” she insisted. “Shay’s is ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ and Ranie’s is...” She paused, holding her breath.
“‘Silent Night,’” the girl said on an annoyed huff of breath.
April didn’t bother to hide her smile. “Give it up, Connor. I’m guessing you’re not the ‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree’ type. If I had to pick—”
“‘O Holy Night,’” he told her.
“Nice choice,” she said with a smile then turned her attention back to the road. She found a parking space a couple of blocks off Main Street. The snow was packed down on the roads, but the sidewalks had been cleared. “The lighting of the big tree in the town square was last week, so we missed that,” she said as Connor and the girls got out of the car. “But the stores are all decorated so it’s fun to shop and—”
“It’s never fun to shop,” Connor said, glancing around at the historic buildings and painted Victorian
