A Cinderella Story. Maureen Child

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prettier than firelight? When she shifted her gaze back to him, she realized the glow from the fire shining in his dark brown eyes was nearly hypnotic. Which was a silly thought to have, so she pushed it away fast. “Would you mind if I borrow a book? TV is just so boring and—”

      He held up one hand to cut her off. “Help yourself.”

      “Ever gracious,” she said with a quick grin. When he didn’t return it, she said, “Okay, thanks.”

      She walked closer, surreptitiously sliding her gaze over him. His booted feet were crossed at the ankle, propped on the stone edge of the hearth. He was staring into the fire as if looking for something. The flickering light danced across his features, and she recognized the scowl that she was beginning to think was etched into his bones. “Everything okay?”

      “Fine.” He didn’t look at her. Never took his gaze from the wavering flames.

      “Okay. You’ve got a lot of books.” She looked through a short stack of hardbacks on the table closest to him. A mix of mysteries, sci-fi and thrillers, mostly. Her favorites, too.

      “Yeah. Pick one.”

      “I’m looking,” she assured him, but didn’t hurry as he clearly wanted her to. Funny, but the gruffer and shorter he became, the more intrigued she was.

      Joy had seen him with Holly. She knew there were smiles inside him and a softness under the cold, hard facade. Yet he seemed determined to shut everyone out.

      “Ew,” she said as she quickly set one book aside. “Don’t like horror. Too scary. I can’t even watch scary movies. I get too involved.”

      “Yeah.”

      She smiled to herself at the one-word answer. He hadn’t told her to get out, so she’d just keep talking and see what happened. “I tried, once. Went to the movies with a friend and got so scared and so tense I had to go sit in the lobby for a half hour.”

      She caught him give her a quick look. Interest. It was a start.

      “I didn’t go back into the theater until I convinced an usher to tell me who else died so I could relax.”

      He snorted.

      Joy smiled, but didn’t let him see it. “So I finally went back in to sit with my friend, and even though I knew how it would end, I still kept my hands over my eyes through the rest of the movie.”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “But,” she said, moving over to the next stack of books, “that doesn’t mean I’m just a romantic comedy kind of girl. I like adventure movies, too. Where lots of things blow up.”

      “Is that right?”

      Just a murmur, but he wasn’t ignoring her.

      “And the Avengers movies? Love those. But maybe it’s just Robert Downey Jr. I like.” She paused. “What about you? Do you like those movies?”

      “Haven’t seen them.”

      “Seriously?” She picked up a mystery she’d never read but instead of leaving with the book, she sat down in the chair beside his. “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever met who hasn’t seen those movies.”

      He spared her one long look. “I don’t get out much.”

      “And isn’t that a shame?”

      “If I thought so,” he told her, “I’d go out more.”

      Joy laughed at the logic. “Okay, you’re right. Still. Heard of DVDs? Netflix?”

      “You’re just going to keep talking, aren’t you?”

      “Probably.” She settled into her chair as if getting comfy for a long visit.

      He shook his head and shifted his gaze back to the fire as if that little discouragement would send her on her way.

      “But back to movies,” she said, leaning toward him over the arm of her chair. “This time of year I like all the Christmas ones. The gushier the better.”

      “Gushy.”

      It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. “You know, the happy cry ones. Heck, I even tear up when the Grinch’s heart grows at the end of that little cartoon.” She sighed. “But to be fair, I’ve been known to get teary at a heart-tugging commercial at Christmastime.”

      “Yeah, I don’t do Christmas.”

      “I noticed,” she said, tipping her head to one side to study him. If anything, his features had tightened, his eyes had grown darker. Just the mention of the holiday had been enough to close him up tight. And still, she couldn’t resist trying to reach him.

      “When we’re at home,” she said, “Holly and I put up the Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving. You have to have a little restraint, don’t you think? I mean this year, I actually saw Christmas wreaths for sale in September. That’s going a little far for me and I love Christmas.”

      He swiveled a look at her. “If you don’t mind, I don’t really feel like talking.”

      “Oh, you don’t have to. I like talking.”

      “No kidding.”

      She smiled and thought she saw a flicker of a response in his eyes, but if she had, it wasn’t much of one because it faded away fast. “You can’t get to know people unless you talk to them.”

      He scraped one hand across his face. “Yeah, maybe I don’t want to get to know people.”

      “I think you do, you just don’t want to want it.”

      “What?”

      “I saw you today with Holly.”

      He shifted in his chair and frowned into the fire. “A one-time thing.”

      “So you said,” Joy agreed, getting more comfortable in the chair, letting him know she wasn’t going anywhere. “But I have to tell you how excited Holly was. She couldn’t stop talking about the fairy house she built with you.” A smile curved Joy’s mouth. “She fell asleep in the middle of telling me about the fairy family that will move into it.”

      Surprisingly, the frown on his face deepened, as if hearing that he’d given a child happiness made him angry.

      “It was a small thing, but it meant a lot to her. And to me. I wanted you to know that.”

      “Fine. You told me.”

      Outside, the wind kicked up, sliding beneath the eaves of the house with a sighing moan that sounded otherworldly. She glanced toward the front window at the night beyond, then turned back to the man with darkness in his eyes. She wondered what he was thinking, what he was seeing as he stared into the flames. Leaning toward him, she locked her hands around her up-drawn knees and said, “That wide front window is a perfect place for a Christmas tree, you know. The glass would reflect all the lights...”

      His

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