My Kind of Christmas. Робин Карр
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“You had no trouble driving?” Jack asked.
“I like driving, but my dad insisted we swap cars. I have his SUV and he has my little Honda,” she said. “But I wasn’t nervous. Maybe because I don’t remember the accident.”
But Angie didn’t want to dwell on what had happened. She was here to relax, to escape, to move forward with her life. Changing the subject, she asked, “And did everyone have a great Thanksgiving?”
“I might never eat again,” Brie said. “How about you?”
“We were all at Grandpa’s and it was good, except for a little melodrama about me leaving for a month. Between the aunts, uncles and cousins there seems to be quite a diversity of opinion on how I should live my life.”
“I imagine. And what did Sam say?” Brie asked of her father.
“Grandpa thought it was an excellent idea to come up here for a little while and he reminded us all that you did that yourself, Brie.”
“And you know what? He was very supportive and encouraging at the time, even though he was at least as worried about me as your parents are about you. He had guessed I was in love. Your grandpa is a pretty modern, savvy guy.”
“Yes,” Angie said quietly. She was close to Sam Sheridan and had often wished, over the past nine months, that she could tell him she had seen Grandma and that she had looked wonderful. But she wasn’t sure she hadn’t been dreaming or hallucinating, and second, Grandma had been gone such a long time. She didn’t want to stir up grief in her grandpa.
Preacher came out of the kitchen with a look of stun and awe on his face as he pulled off his apron and tossed it over the bar before grabbing Angie up in his big arms, spinning her right off her stool. “Aw, girl, girl, girl,” he said, hugging her tight. Then he held her away and looked her over. “You are beautiful!” And then he had to let go of her to wipe his eyes.
“Preach,” she said, laughing.
Paige slipped around her husband, giving Angie a warm hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said softly.
“Your big scary husband is crying.”
“I know,” she said. “He’s such a softie. He’s the last person you want to meet in a dark alley, but he’s so tenderhearted. He cries at Disney movies and Hallmark commercials.”
“Yesterday I cried over football,” he said. “It was pathetic all day. I’m just so damn glad to see you, Ange. Your uncle Jack was a mess while you were in the hospital, he was so worried.”
“And as you can see, all is well,” she said.
“Mel says you want a takeout. I’ll make you anything you want—you just tell me what.”
“I’ll have whatever’s on the menu and a bottle of wine. Do you have any sauvignon blanc?”
“Are you sure you’re allowed alcohol?” Jack asked.
“Yes,” she said with a laugh, holding up her glass. “Hence the beer I’m drinking. I promise not to get wasted. But, gee, some of Preacher’s dinner, a glass of wine, a fire, a book, peace and quiet… Oh, Jack, there are logs out there, right?”
“You’re all set,” he said. “Do you know how to light the fire?”
She rolled her eyes. “Preacher, do you suppose I could do a little graze through your kitchen? Grab some staples—a few eggs, some milk, bread, that sort of thing? In case I wake up starving?”
“Absolutely,” he said.
Although it was soft and low, Angie heard someone clear his throat. There, at the end of the bar in the corner was a lone man in an army-green, down-padded jacket. He had dark hair, an empty beer glass and some money in his hand.
Jack turned to him, took his money and said, “Thanks, bud. See you around.”
“Have a nice reunion,” the man said, moving to leave.
He was so tall—that was what Angie noticed first. As tall as her uncle Jack. And his dark hair had some red in it. Dark auburn. She’d never seen that combination before, unless it was on a woman and had come out of a bottle. Usually red shades were found in blond or light brown hair. The stubble on his cheeks had a tinge of red, too.
As he walked toward the door, their eyes met and Angie felt her cheeks grow warm—he’d caught her staring. He had the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. They had to be contacts. He gave her a half smile and then he turned and was gone.
“Wow,” she said. “Whew. Who’s the hottie?”
Brie laughed and said, “I think our girl is fully recovered.”
Jack let go a little growl. “He’s not the one for you,” he said.
Angie looked around at all the smiling faces—Brie, Paige, Preacher.... “Gee, did I ask if he was right for me?”
Preacher chortled loudly, another thing the big cook seldom did. “Patrick Riordan,” he told her. “He’s here sitting out a little leave. He’s Navy. I think he got hurt or something.”
“Nah, he didn’t get hurt,” Jack clarified. “Luke said there was an accident during his last deployment and he decided to take a little leave or something. Riordans, good people, but that one’s got troubles right now. You might want to give him a wide berth. I don’t know all the details, but it sounds like combat issues....”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want to get mixed up with anyone with combat issues,” Preacher joked. And Jack glared at him. Preacher put a big hand on Angie’s shoulder and said, “He’s been kind of quiet and grumpy while he’s been in town. If you got to know him a little, you know what? I bet he wouldn’t cheer you up that much.”
That made Angie laugh. “Well, how about that—we both had accidents. Now, what’s for dinner, Preach?”
“Big surprise, turkey soup. It’ll keep you very healthy. I boiled two carcasses all day. Homemade noodles—the best. Even though it’s not raining, I baked bread.”
Her mouth began to water. “I’m in.”
Mel came from the kitchen. “I called Donna,” she said. “Your mom would like you to email her when you’re settled tonight and she promises to give you a little space to find yourself. She suggests you look at your med school transcripts.”
Angie rolled her eyes. “Dropping out of school was far harder on Professor LaCroix than it was on me,” Angie said. “I’ve never felt so free in my life.”
After a little more small talk, and her beer finished, soup, bread and wine packed up along with some groceries from the kitchen, sun lowering in the sky, Angie was ready to head for the cabin. They stood around outside for a minute and Jack kissed her forehead. “Do whatever you want tomorrow, pumpkin, but remember if you decide to stay in your pajamas all day you’ll miss the raising of the Christmas tree.”
“You’re putting it up tomorrow?”