His Mistletoe Family. Ruth Logan Herne
into her sparkling eyes said it might not be all that implausible.
That’s lack of sleep talking. You’re old, she’s young. You’re hardened, she’s ingenuous. You could use a shower and a shave and she’s, well...beautiful. Sweet. Clean. Fresh.
All reasons enough to steer clear of Haley Jennings and her two protégés. He had plenty on his plate right now. More than enough. His business. His current task as fire code inspector. His work as a volunteer fireman. His ongoing problems with his mother.
That reality darkened his mind and the thought must have shaded his face because Haley leaned over, concerned. “I am grateful, Brett. For your kindness and your time. Your generosity last night, even though I thought you were pretty handy at giving away Charlie’s stuff.”
He grinned and shrugged. “No big deal, Haley.”
“It was to me.” She lay her hand over his and held his gaze. “It was the light I needed in a convoluted day.”
Her words touched him. Coupled with the soft grasp of her fingers against the back of his hand, warm emotion multiplied by a factor of at least eight. He stowed the emotion and tipped his gaze.
He longed to be a light in someone’s day, but hadn’t realized it until Haley slipped into his life on a cloudy, windswept Thanksgiving. He shrugged one shoulder, refusing to make a big deal out of common courtesy. “Then I’m glad.”
He waved off her help after dinner with a look in the boys’ direction. “You’ll have enough to do once you get them home.”
“We don’t have a home.”
Tyler’s words hit their mark. Haley’s face paled. Todd’s lip trembled. And Brett realized how vulnerable these two little fellows were right now, so he bent low and drew Tyler up into his arms. “It feels like that now, Ty. But give it time, okay?” He headbutted the little boy gently. “We’ll give it time together and we’ll play and pray and eat and have fun and after a while it will feel more like home. I promise.”
The boy’s face said he longed to believe but didn’t dare, and Brett understood his reluctance. When dreams get knocked down regularly, it’s hard to grasp hold. But Tyler was young. They’d convince him.
Haley reached out a gentle, practical hand. “You’re right, Brett.” She palmed Tyler’s cheek and smiled. “‘To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heaven.’” She stretched up and whisked butterfly kisses along Tyler’s cheek. “Time helps, Ty.”
The little guy didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t look combative either and that was a step up. Brett walked Tyler out to Haley’s car. The rain had let up slightly, but the steady drizzle was still enough to soak his sweatshirt while Ty and Todd got buckled.
“Thank you, Brett.”
The smile she sent him over the hood of the car said more, but Tyler’s words made him realize they needed to ease their way because these boys had already lost so much. He waved and backstepped his way toward the house behind him. “Get in. Get home. Dry off. Again.”
She ducked into the car, put it in reverse and backed out of his drive, but he took sweet comfort in the fact that she traveled only four hundred feet down the road before turning into the back entrance of Bennington Station. Knowing she was this close? That he could be of help at a moment’s notice?
He liked that proximity. A lot.
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