Ruth Herne Logan

His Mistletoe Family


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coffee, feed these guys one of Seb Walker’s doughnuts and get you to work. Then the boys and I can have some fun.”

      She shouldn’t, should she? Was this the height of irresponsibility to leave two little boys with a virtual stranger?

      Trust your heart. Go with your instincts.

      She was good at that professionally, but this wasn’t a business proposition. These were her brother’s boys, now her own little ones. One look at the integrity in Brett’s strong, rugged face put her fears to rest. Something in his bearing said she could trust him with anything. Anytime. And that was the nicest feeling she’d had in years.

      He read her hesitation and waited her out, no tempting. No cajoling. She appreciated the honor that took, so she nodded, grabbed Tyler’s hand and moved downstairs. “That would be lovely, Brett.”

      She glanced over her shoulder and read the smile he sent for her. Just for her. And suddenly her crazy day melted away into something simpler. Sweeter. She could go to work and not worry about the boys.

      Her bank loan?

      There was nothing to do about that until tomorrow, so today she’d work with the peace of mind that the boys were well-cared for. And the fact that she’d get to see Brett again later, when she picked up the boys?

      Only made the day that much brighter.

      Chapter Five

      Football, napping boys and trains.

      Only one thing could make this afternoon better, Brett decided as the boys snuggled along his dog Derringer’s tawny-red wide flank, and she knocked on the door about five-fifteen, the cold rain beating a relentless rhythm against the flagstone walk. Brett hurried to the door, knowing Haley was getting soaked on the open stoop. “Get in here. It’s pouring.”

      “Tell me something I don’t know.” She shook damp tendrils out of her face as she pushed back the Christmas-toned knit scarf. “Who’d have thought you could get this wet running from the car?”

      “Here.” He lobbed a towel her way, then hooked a thumb left. “Come this way, but be quiet.”

      “Because?”

      He didn’t answer. If he told her why he wanted her to follow him, she’d offer some form of protest. Better to have the upper hand, he decided. Ward off the argument. She came up behind him and he shifted to the right to allow her a better vantage point.

      Her face softened. Her mouth formed a perfect O, the soft lips looking sweet and inviting, which almost made Brett feel guilty about setting a perfect scene, but he’d been straight-up army for a long time. Tactical precision was a specialty.

      “How sweet.”

      “Yup.”

      “And the dog...”

      “Derringer.”

      “Oh, Brett.” She hugged his arm and this time he didn’t resist the temptation to slip an arm around her shoulders. Gaze down into her face. Wonder what it would be like to touch his mouth to hers. “They look so peaceful.”

      “A shame to wake them.”

      She smiled up at him, and the glance to his mouth told him she was pondering a similar course of action. It would take seconds to find out. A space of mere inches to test the waters...

      “I wuv this dog, Brett.”

      Todd’s voice interrupted the moment but didn’t detract from the sweetness. He sat up, fisted his sleepy eyes and then rubbed a generous spot on the coonhound’s side. “He’s the best dog ever.”

      “He is.” Brett offered Haley’s shoulder a little squeeze that said “next time.” He moved across the room and squatted. He stroked the dog’s neck, turned and smiled up at Haley. “He used to be Charlie and LuAnn’s. They moved to a place with less upkeep but the old boy was too big for the community rules. I took him in and that way LuAnn’s with him most of the time.”

      “He’s beautiful.” She crossed the room and bent low to pet the dog. She smelled of cinnamon and evergreen, a delicious combination, the scents drawing him in as if her effusive personality and good looks weren’t enough.

      She’s beginning her life. You’ve seen half of yours and messed up a good share of that. Leave her be.

      He should. He knew that. But when she slanted a look his way, a look that brought her cheek dangerously close, he had to reach out. Brush tendrils of hair back behind her ear. See if the soft skin of her cheek was velvet or satin.

      A little of both, he decided, smiling at her.

      The dog rolled, pawed the air, groaned and woke Tyler with his movement.

      “Oh, that’s funny!” Todd fell down laughing at the sight of the big dog groaning in his sleep as Tyler slid off to the left.

      “Ouch.”

      Brett reached out an arm to Tyler, scooped him up and rubbed the spot that landed on the rug. “Rough way to wake up, huh? Did you have a good nap?”

      “I don’t take naps.”

      “As a rule.” Brett carried him into the kitchen and set him on the counter. He examined Tyler’s head and stepped back. “I don’t think it needs ice, do you?”

      The boy contemplated the question, then shrugged. “Naw. And Derringer didn’t mean to do it.”

      “No.”

      “He was just rolling over, right?”

      “Right.”

      “And he likes kids.”

      “Hasn’t eaten one yet.” Brett offered that response with an easy grin.

      Tyler replied in kind. “But the day ain’t over.”

      “You’re learning, kid. Hey, how about you and Todd set the table so we can have some supper?”

      “Oh, Brett, thank you, but—” Haley offered the protest, but he’d already figured out she didn’t accept help easily and that probably had a story behind it. Well, who didn’t have a story? Considering her current circumstances, he was determined to help because it was advantageous to her and...

      If he was being honest with himself...

      Just being with her felt good to him. End of discussion.

      “No buts.” He flashed an over-the-shoulder smile her way, but didn’t pretend he’d take no for an answer. The boys had to eat and so did she, even if resistance was her first line of defense. For an established soldier like him, it wasn’t much of a battle. “If your entrepreneurial nature must be kept busy 24/7, then help the boys set the table. Plates are there.” He shifted his chin up and to the left. “Silverware in the drawer next to the sink. And cups are above the plates.”

      “But—”

      He sent her a look that quashed her protest much like it had with troops at home and abroad, and decided that look might come in handy. Or maybe he hoped it would come in handy. Either way, her response was to help the boys while he poured pasta into a pot of salted, boiling water.

      “You cooked for us?”

      “Way easier than cooking for a legion of troops.” He handed her a loaf of crusty bread from the deli area of the store. “And I did that often enough as I worked my way up the ranks.”

      “You served.”

      “Twenty-five years.”

      “Army?”

      “Yup.”

      “Wow.” She turned and stared straight at him, and a part of him hoped the surprise wasn’t because that made him seem really old. Because no way did he want her thinking he was too old. Or off his game. Which was ridiculous