His Christmas Sweetheart

Miranda knelt on the floor beside him and, for the first time, got a good look at the large silver belt buckle he wore.

U.S. Army. Not a rodeo event.

That answered some questions. She’d often wondered how he was able to effectively play the part of Mrs. Litey’s late son. Where, then, had he learned to be such a first-rate cowboy?

“How long were you in for?” she asked.

He stilled. “Pardon?”

“The army. How long?”

“Six years.”

“Where did you serve?” she persisted.

“Overseas.”

“The Middle East?”

“Some. Also stateside.”

He was certainly a challenge. Luckily Miranda didn’t give up easily.

Minutes of silence passed, then a low grunt, a loud thud and a softly spoken curse word.

“Everything all right?” Miranda leaned her head down to peer under the sink.

“The fitting’s frozen.”

“I have some pipe-joint compound.” She reached for the jar in the toolbox.

“Don’t need it.” His arms strained, she swore to the point of breaking, only to relax. “Done.”

“Really? The leak’s fixed?” The pipes were as old as the house, and she’d expected the repair to take considerably longer. He really was strong.

“Keep the appointment with the plumber. What I did is only temporary.” Will pushed out from beneath the sink and sat up. Because of her proximity to him, they were nearly face-to-face.

Miranda couldn’t be more pleased, and tilted her head appealingly. “Thank you. Don’t know what I would have done without your help.”

She’d said something similar to him the day of the fire, after he’d coaxed her residents into the van and calmed their fears, when nothing she’d said or done had worked. In relief and gratitude, she’d thrown her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. She’d been wanting to do the same ever since.

Kiss him, not evacuate her residents.

“No problem.” He swallowed.

She wondered if he was remembering that day, too. “Someone who works as hard as you deserves a reward.”

His eyes widened a fraction and a thin sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“Can I get you a cold drink or a snack? Nell made some cherry cobbler for dessert. I’m sure I can sneak you a piece without her getting mad.”

“I have to get back to the ranch.”

“One small piece?”

“Thanks, but no.” He scooted forward and stood.

Miranda had no choice but to give him room. To her surprise, his hand appeared in front of her face.

She took it and let him pull her to her feet, noting his calluses. A working man’s hand. Like her foster father’s. She found comfort in that.

“Such a gentleman.”

He met her glance briefly before turning away.

A warm glow bloomed inside her. His severe shyness, as much as his good looks, had kept her intrigued and putting herself in his path at every opportunity these past five months. There was also something about him, a complexity, a depth, a sensitivity that most women probably missed.

Dropping the wrench into the toolbox, he retrieved the towel from the floor.

“Where can I throw this?”

“I’ll take it.” She did, and her attention was drawn again to the rubber band on his wrist.

Odd habit for a man, she mused. Miranda had picked hers up from her foster mother, the queen of practicality and thriftiness.

But then Will was a person of many odd habits. And mystery. She’d asked around after the fire. Few knew him, none well, and no one had any idea where he’d come from or what he’d done before arriving in Sweetheart. Besides serving in the army, which he’d confirmed today.

He could, she supposed, be an AWOL soldier. A criminal on the lam. A serial killer. A witness in the protection program. A deadbeat dad evading child-support payments.

Her instincts told her Will was none of those things. She’d seen him with her residents and Crackers, her therapy dog. Will was innately good and kind.

But something had caused him to close himself off from people. Something harsh and heartbreaking. If she wasn’t afraid of appearing nosy or gossipy, she’d prod Will’s boss, the new owner of the Gold Nugget Ranch, for answers.

“Next time, perhaps?” Miranda dropped another hint, even though Will never took them. “Nell’s constantly cooking up delicious dishes with far too many calories. I swear I’ve gained five pounds this past week alone.”

He took her in from head to toe and, for a fraction of a second, his gaze heated. “You look fine.”

It was the most emotion Miranda had ever seen him show, and a shiver of awareness wound slowly through her.

She inched closer. “Aren’t you the flatterer.”

Grabbing his hat off the table, he all but stumbled out of the kitchen in his haste to depart.

She saw him to the door, but he was three steps ahead of her and barely acknowledged Arthur’s booming goodbye and Babs’s wave. Mr. Lexington and Crackers didn’t so much as stir from their place in the recliner.

Miranda returned to the kitchen, feeling quite satisfied with herself. Finally she’d gotten a reaction from Will. A small one, but there was no mistaking it. He was interested in her, and that was enough for now.

She had considered being less intimidating—her big personality didn’t appeal to everyone—only to change her mind. Will seemed to like her plenty fine the way she was, despite his wariness.