His Christmas Sweetheart

Finding his regular stool open, he sat and attempted to reach Sam again, with the same results. Disconnecting, he debated what to do.

“You look as if you are wrestling with a mighty problem.”

At the sound of Miranda’s voice, he sat instantly straighter.

“We know it’s not Mrs. Litey, unless you’re feeling bad about ignoring her. She misses you something awful, by the way.”

Will suffered a stab of remorse.

“You shouldn’t make her pay just because you’re mad at me.”

Having no choice, he turned slowly around. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Seems like it.” She stood with a serving tray propped on her hip, a red apron tied around her waist and a pert scowl on her pretty face.

He blinked in disbelief. “You’re working here?”

“Part-time.” She squared her shoulders. “Just until I catch up on the mortgage payments. So I guess we’ll be running into each other, seeing as you’re here a lot.”

He suppressed a groan. His one place of practically guaranteed solitude had just been invaded.

It was in that moment that he realized there were no vouchers and never had been. His boss knew about Miranda’s job and had set Will up.

The snake.

“Well, what’ll it be, cowboy? Can’t rent that bar stool for free.” Miranda flashed him a saucy smile that sent his pulse rate into the triple digits. “Swiss-and-bacon burger’s on special today.”

She moved closer—on purpose, he was sure of it—until her thigh brushed his knee. He swallowed hard and waited for the panic attack, ready to bolt at the first sign.

To his shock, it didn’t come. And when he spoke, his voice sounded normal.

“I’ll take mine medium well.”

Chapter Four

Miranda made sure there was just the right amount of sway to her hips as she walked away from Will. Not so much as to be obvious and not so little as to be overlooked.

He noticed the sway. No reason to turn her head, she could feel his eyes boring into her.

Will might be shy as a choirboy with his first crush, but he was all man.

“One Swiss and bacon, medium well.” She passed the order ticket through the window to the cook in the kitchen.

Mayor Dempsey hailed her over to the bar. Opening two longnecks, she tipped her head at Will. “You going to put him out of his misery anytime soon or just keep torturing him?”

“What are you talking about?”

She lowered her voice. “He’s not the kind you toy with, Miranda. That heart of his has been through the wringer. Anyone can see it.”

“I don’t toy.”

“You don’t exactly handle with care, either.”

She delivered the longnecks to a far table where a pair of truckers sat. They would be gone in the morning, having off-loaded their cargo of kitchen cabinets to the Abrams, one of many local families in the process of rebuilding their homes.

“Thank you,” she said cheerily when they dropped a tip of several singles on her tray.

They definitely took note of her swaying hips. And as a glance across the room confirmed, Will took note of them.

Okay, maybe she did toy with him a little.

She couldn’t help herself. He liked her, it was obvious. Desired her, even. Yet there he sat, watching, but not running after her as other men had. Not even walking. She was determined to get him up and moving in her direction.

Fancy that. Miranda Staley doing the chasing for once, rather than the other way around.

“Hey, Miranda, bring us another round, would ya, darling?”

“Right away, Henry.”

The cattle rancher’s table wasn’t far from Will. She made a point of passing right by him when she delivered the drinks to Henry and his cronies.

Will’s gaze stuck to her like superglue. Miranda felt her cheeks redden. Seriously! When did a man ever make her blush?

Apparently now.

The mayor’s words came rushing back to her: that heart of his has been through the wringer.

Sweet, darling man. To have lost his parents. How old had he been? she wondered. Not that it made a difference. Losing them at any age would be tragic.

Miranda had no idea if her own birth parents were alive or not. She tried to care. Tried to muster an ounce of compassion and affection for them. A shred of curiosity as to their whereabouts. But any feelings she might have had for them were lost when they’d abandoned her for three whole days in an old car because they were too high to remember they even had a daughter.

Losing her foster parents, however, was an entirely different matter. Miranda ached at the mere thought. Nothing would leave a larger, emptier hole in her life.

Would she withdraw the way Will had? Avoid relationships? For a while, certainly. For years? It was hard to say. Miranda was resilient. More than that, her foster parents wouldn’t want her to close herself off. They were gregarious, affectionate people who had taught their children to live life to the fullest.

“Order up,” the cook called.

Saying hi to her newly arrived coworker, Cissy, Miranda collected Will’s Swiss-and-bacon burger from the window.

“Here you go.” She scooted close to Will, setting the generously laden plate down in front of him. “Enjoy.”

He gazed hungrily...at her. Not at the plate of food. Miranda flushed again.

This was just plain silly, she silently chided herself as she went about clearing a recently vacated table. When Cissy emerged from the back, tying her apron, Miranda tried to distract herself by making small talk. It worked only until she caught Cissy giving Will a decidedly predatory once-over.

“I’ve been trying to get his attention for ages,” she confessed out of the side of her mouth when they met up at the bar to collect fresh drink orders.

“Any luck?” Miranda wasn’t normally the jealous type. She could, she realized, become that way. Cissy was certainly attractive, in a flashy sort of way. Maybe Will preferred that over Miranda’s country-girl looks.