A Little Bit of Holiday Magic (6 page)

“Only way to go.” He crawled across the floor with Liam on his back. “I bet the little dude makes it easy for you to do the same.”

“Yes.” Though not always.

Maybe she should follow Bill’s advice. Expecting something to go wrong wasn’t a good way to live. It wasn’t how she and Damon had lived before that final deployment.

“So you’ll stay?”

A “no” sat poised at the tip of her tongue. Thinking positively was one thing. Buying trouble was another. Something told her Bill Paulson could be big trouble. Her lips parted—

“Before you say no, hear me out.” He moved closer. “Giving you a place to stay is the least I can do. It’s my way of saying thank you for the sacrifices your family has made for our country.”

Liam raised his arms and cheered. “Stay. Stay with Bill.”

Holding on to the boy, Bill reared like a stallion, graceful and wild. Smiling like a fiend.

Grace tapped her fingers against her lips. “It could be a couple of days or longer. Thad thinks, um, things shouldn’t be fixed.”

Liam slid off Bill’s back. Both stood.

“All the more reason to stay.” Bill spoke as if this was nothing more than a weekend sleepover where they’d watch DVDs and eat popcorn and candy. “Don’t waste money on a hotel when you have a free place here. Liam needs a Christmas tree and room to play. I have both.”

Not to mention an adult-size playmate.

Liam nodded, as if he understood what Bill was saying.

“I won’t be around much,” he continued. “After my shift, I’m off for forty-eight hours. I spend most of that time on the mountain. Trust me, I won’t be a good host.”

“That’s hard to believe. You’ve been amazing.”

“You’re easy to please, Grace.” He looked down at his legs being hugged by Liam. “You, too, cowboy.”

Bill’s schedule alleviated her fears about Liam getting too attached. She had money, thanks to insurance and military benefits, but she wanted to be frugal. Still, she hesitated. “But Christmas is coming....”

“Let’s take it a day at a time.”

Both Liam and Bill were looking at her, waiting for her to decide. She couldn’t think of any reason not to stay, but found herself balking. Bill rattled her nerves.

Liam tilted his head. “Puh-lease, Mommy.”

“Listen to the kid,” Bill said.

“If we stay, I don’t want to be treated as a guest. I’ll buy groceries. Cook. Clean.”

“Not necessary.”

She was outnumbered, but not about to give in. “Not negotiable.”

“Then it’s a deal.” Bill held his hand up to her son. “Looks like you’re staying, little dude.”

Liam high-fived his new playmate. “Yay!”

“Nothing like Hood Hamlet in December.” Bill shot her a sideways glance, making her pulse jump. “You won’t regret this.”

Grace hoped not. She’d lived with enough regrets. She didn’t want to have to live with any more.

* * *

The next morning Bill entered the station stifling a yawn. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. He needed caffeine pronto. The little dude hadn’t slept well last night. No one else in the house had, either.

That was what he got for telling Grace to stay. He didn’t regret the invitation, though he’d given her little choice.

Why
had
he worked so hard to convince her? Why did it matter where she went?

He’d never thought the whole family thing was attractive, but something about spending more time with Grace and Liam had sucked him in. His common sense had fled or maybe gone into hibernation.

He crossed the apparatus bay, his steps echoing against the concrete floor, not another soul in sight. Everyone must be waiting for morning briefing from the chief. Bill hoped someone had brought breakfast. This morning he’d wanted to leave his house as quietly as possible, so hadn’t grabbed any food.

A bad move according to his grumbling stomach.

Grace would agree and tell him breakfast was the most important meal of the day. Too bad they couldn’t have eaten together.

Weird how he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Bill had tried to help last night, but his presence had been only a hindrance in getting Liam back to sleep. The little dude had wailed like a banshee with him around. So much for being good with kids.

He’d retreated to his room, trying not to think of having an after midnight play session with Grace. Hot, heavy fun. He was good at that. But...

Grace + Liam = off-limits.

Bill couldn’t forget that, even if math had never been his best subject.

He headed toward the living quarters, basic but comfortable with a television area, large dining room and kitchen. The bunkrooms were upstairs, along with the bathrooms.

Bill hoped Grace and Liam were still asleep. She had to be tired. He didn’t know how she handled being a single parent. Not that she had a choice. At least his dad flew home a couple times a year, around major holidays. That had to count for something, right? Grace had no one. Not even parents she could call.

Maybe she could nap today. A vision of her in bed made him grin.

Bill pushed through the door. An argument about the upcoming Seattle Seahawks game on Sunday raised the decibels by a factor of two. A heated debate over the best local ski area—Timberline, Mount Hood Meadows or Ski Bowl—for fresh powder ensued. Two men bragged about the hot babes they’d bagged the other night. No doubt one of the guys was Riley Hansen.

In the dining room, both B and C shifts sat around the table. Every person had a coffee cup in hand. Three pink boxes of doughnuts and a stack of napkins rested in the center of the table. A typical morning at shift change.

“Good morning, fellows. And Thomas.” Bill nodded toward his best friend, Leanne Thomas, who worked with him on C shift.

She sat next to her fiancé, Christian Welton, who had been moved by the chief to B shift after the engagement was made public. Leanne held an old-fashioned glazed doughnut. “Traffic was heavy this morning. Lots of folks heading up the mountain,” she commented.

“I don’t blame them.” Brady O’Ryan, the other paramedic on the crew, refilled his cup. “Everyone wants to make first tracks in the fresh powder.”

Bill grabbed a chocolate-frosted doughnut covered with candy sprinkles. “Me, too.”

Hansen snickered. “Sucks to be a C shifter.”

“I don’t see any of you B boys hightailing it out of here to make your mark,” Thomas said, with the attitude that had earned her respect at the station.

“Hey, babe.” Welton put his arm around the back of her chair. “I’m one of those B boys now.”

Her expression softened. “Maybe after we’re married, Chief will move you back to Hood Hamlet’s elite C squad.”

The B boys groaned.

Bill laughed. “Better watch it, guys, or Thomas will dream up yet another physical training torture.”

She winked. “Damn straight. And this one will be tougher than the last.”

Thomas’s last program had nearly killed them all, Bill included. His muscles ached from the memory of the world-class athlete cardio and strength training regimen.

“I’ve got my skis with me,” she told him. “Christian and I are heading up the hill as soon as I’m off. Want to come with us?”

“You’re on.” But Bill wanted to check on Grace and Liam first. He decided against mentioning them in front of the whole crew. “I’ll need to swing by home to grab mine.”

“Hey,” Welton said. “I heard there was some excitement on your street two nights ago.”

“A pickup in a snowbank,” Bill said.

Leanne wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Drunk?”

“No, someone trying to make it over the mountain.” He didn’t want to talk about this now.

“In a blizzard?” Christian shook his head. “Must not be from around here.”

Bill stared into his coffee cup. Grace hadn’t been stupid. She’d just never driven through the Cascades in winter before. “They’re not.”

“Injuries?” O’Ryan asked.

Bill eyed what remained in the pink boxes, debating if he wanted another doughnut. “Just sore. They were buckled in. Had air bags.”

Thomas raised her cup. “Lucky.”

“Very.” Though Grace might not agree. Her truck was in bad shape according to Thad. Bill sipped his coffee. “The pickup might be totaled.”

“Wonder how they ended up on your street from the highway?” Welton asked. “It’s not exactly Main Street.”

“No idea.” Bill hadn’t thought about that. Now he was curious. “I’ll have to ask Grace.”

Silence fell over the table.

Thomas leaned forward. “Grace?”

Damn. Everyone was looking at him.

“The driver of the pickup.” He tried to backtrack slowly, like a truck stuck in a rut. “She showed up at my house needing help.”

“Unbelievable.” Hansen rolled his eyes, the gesture matching the disdain in his voice. “Even when Paulson can’t date a woman, they show up in the middle of the night knocking on his door.”

Bill straightened. “It’s not like that.”

“So she’s not hot,” O’Ryan said.

He looked up. “I never said that. But she’s a mom.”

Thomas elbowed him. “Moms can be cute.”

“Moms can be hot,” O’Ryan said.

Hansen sneered. “Ever hear the term MILF?”

Thomas glared, shutting them all up. “Were Grace’s kids in the truck?”

“One kid,” Bill answered, knowing how hard car accidents involving kids were for Leanne. Her parents and two brothers had been killed in a crash on Highway 26. She’d been the lone survivor. “He’s fine, but had a rough time last night. Kept waking up.”

Thomas’s forehead wrinkled. “How do you know that?”

Now everyone knew everything. Bill never had been good at keeping secrets. Especially here. He’d had no siblings growing up, but these people were his brothers and sister. Irritating at times, but still family. Though not quite the same as what he’d felt with Grace and Liam.

Bill shrugged. “They’re staying at my house.”

Looks flew across the room faster than freestylers off the jumps at Timberline’s aerial park. Bill sucked it up and waited.

“This woman...” O’Ryan sounded surprisingly earnest. Sometimes he could be a jerk. “She’s there now? While you’re here?”

Bill nodded. “They were asleep when I left.”

Hansen hung his head. “Bad move.”

“Why is that?” Bill asked.

Leanne touched his arm. “You don’t know them.”

“I do now. What would you do? It’s a woman and a kid with a wrecked vehicle.” He glanced at each of the firefighters. “Which one of you would have done it differently?”

No one. Bill knew that in his heart.

Hansen shook his head. “How can you be such a player and so stupid about women at the same time?”

“She could be trying to get her hooks into you,” O’Ryan said. “A mom looking for a sugar daddy for herself and kid.”

“I bet a U-Haul truck is at your house now and some sketchy looking dude is loading everything you own to sell on Craigslist,” Hansen said.

Bill’s jaw tightened. “Grace is not like that.”

“You’re not at all suspicious?” Thomas asked.

“It’s the other way around.” He remembered the wariness in Grace’s eyes the night she arrived. He was so glad she smiled now. “She called the sheriff on Sunday night. She wasn’t sure if it was safe to stay at my house.”

Thomas smiled. “Sounds like a smart woman.”

“Grace is,” Bill said. “She’s a widow. Her husband was a Ranger killed in Afghanistan. She’s on her way from Columbus, Georgia, to Astoria to make a new start. Or was until she hit the snowbank. Helping her out is the least I can do.”

No one said anything for a minute.

Hansen snickered. “At least that’s the story she told you.”

A series of tones sounded. “Rescue 1 and Engine 3 responding to car accident. Automobile versus pedestrian on the corner of Main Street and Second Avenue,” the female dispatcher announced.

Everyone from C shift rose from the table.

Bill headed toward his bunker gear.

O’Ryan followed him. “Way to go, finding a way around no dating in December.”

“Huh?”

“Having wild monkey sex with your new roomie, Grace.”

Only in Bill’s dreams. Though sex would be the easy part. The rest was what he couldn’t handle. He removed his shoes and stepped into his bunker pants and boots. “I’m not doing this to get laid. Plus she’s got a kid.”

“So what?” O’Ryan shrugged on his jacket. “The chick’s only passing through town. Sex is sex.”

Bill balled his hands, ready to punch the guy. But the clock was ticking. He grabbed his helmet. “How would you know about sex? I thought you were saving yourself for your wedding night.”

He climbed into the rig.

Damn O’Ryan. Bill didn’t want to be thinking about Grace and sex.

The engine pulled out of the bay, lights flashing and sirens roaring.

This wasn’t the time to fantasize. Grace wasn’t a woman to lust after, not with appealing and playful images running through his mind and sending his temperature spiraling. He shouldn’t be thinking about her romantically at all. He couldn’t give her what she needed, what she deserved.

Bill hoped she heard good news about her truck. The sooner she was on her way to Astoria, the better off they all would be.

CHAPTER SIX

T
HE
 
SOUND
 
OF
 
the garbage disposal woke Grace. Sunlight streamed through the edges of the window blinds.

Morning already?

She didn’t want to believe it. Neither did her heavy, let’s-go-back-to-sleep eyelids.

The digital clock on the nightstand read 8:26 a.m.

Not early, even if it felt that way.

Grace rolled onto to her side toward Liam. He slept like a hibernating bear. Since he’d been up and down all night, she wasn’t surprised.

Too bad she couldn’t blame Liam for her exhaustion. Images of the truck and Bill had etched themselves into her mind. A swirling mix of dreams and thoughts had made for a sleepless night. She hoped her and Liam’s restlessness hadn’t kept Bill awake. He needed his sleep if he was going to be working a twenty-four hour shift.

Another noise sounded—cabinets creaking open and shut.

Bill must be going in late this morning. She could apologize for Liam’s behavior.

Grace slid out of bed, careful not to wake Liam. He would be cranky enough, with Bill at work. She didn’t need her son tired, too.

In the hallway, she rolled up the waistband on Bill’s pajama pants. Liam had wanted her to wear them again last night. She liked the softness of flannel even if the jammies didn’t fit.

She shuffled down the hallway.

A faucet ran.

Weird.

She’d cleaned the kitchen before going to bed last night. Maybe Bill had made himself breakfast. But she didn’t smell food. No coffee. And he’d said nothing would keep him from work.

She slowed her pace and lightened her step. If Bill was at work, who was in the kitchen?

She peeked around the corner.

A fiftysomething woman stood at the sink looking down at the running water, a blue sponge in her hand. Her short brown hair was stylishly cut, her makeup perfectly applied. Candy cane earrings dangled from her earlobes. Snowmen covered her red sweater. Not exactly what a cleaning woman would wear. Or a prowler.

Grace waited, watched, grew impatient. She couldn’t stand here spying all day. “Hello.”

The woman looked up. She gasped.

Grace held up her hands. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

“Who are you?”

“Grace Wilcox.” She waited for the woman to offer her name. She didn’t. “Bill’s, um, guest.”

“I’m Mrs. Paulson.” Her gaze ran the length of Grace, taking in her messy hair and too big pajamas. “Bill’s mother.”

The unfriendly tone bristled. Grace overcame the urge to snap back. She needed to be polite. This was Bill’s mom. “Nice to meet you. I love your chocolate chip cookies and cocoa mix.”

Mrs. Paulson pursed her lips. “You’re not the usual type my son brings home.”

To sleep with.

The words were unspoken, but implied.

Grace didn’t know what to say. Knowing someone for what—thirty-six hours?—didn’t make them friends, but after spending yesterday together they weren’t strangers. “I’m not...”

“His lover?”

Heat rose up Grace’s neck. Her cheeks flamed. “Gosh, no. I’m staying here, but in another bedroom.”

Mrs. Paulson’s brows arched. “Well, you’re creative. I haven’t heard that one before.”

The accusation in her voice twisted Grace’s insides a dozen directions. She shouldn’t care what Bill’s mother thought of her. Yet standing straight was difficult when all Grace wanted to do was squirm. “It’s the truth.”

“He doesn’t usually have his women stay when he’s at work.”

His women. His here-for-a-good-time women. Grace wasn’t one of them. She raised her chin. “I’m from out of town. I hit a patch of ice and my truck slid into a snowbank, so I ended up on Bill’s doorstep.”

The words rushed from her mouth like water from a fire hydrant. Needing to shut up, she clamped her lips together.

“This happened last night?” Mrs. Paulson asked.

Grace rubbed her face. “The night before.”

“You’re not injured?”

Funny, the woman sounded as if she might care. “No.”

Mrs. Paulson’s lip curled. “So you spent yesterday here, too.”

Grace angled her body toward the doorway, wishing Liam would wake up screaming for her. Anything to escape Mrs. Paulson’s demeaning glare and resist the growing itch to tell her off. “Yes.”

“Leave his pajamas in the bathroom.” The woman’s dismissal was clear. “I’ll wash them after you go.”

Mrs. Paulson was a mama bear; no blaming her for that. She seemed to have no patience for Bill’s womanizing. Grace agreed with her there, but needed to take a stand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But—”

“Big dude...!” Arms outstretched, Liam skidded around the corner in his footie pajamas. One look at Mrs. Paulson had him darting behind Grace quicker than a camera flash.

“It’s okay.” She reached behind to reassure him. “This is Bill’s mom, Mrs. Paulson.”

Liam peeked around Grace’s hip, then hid again.

A puzzled expression crossed Mrs. Paulson’s face. “Who is this?”

“My son. Liam.”

An unexpected smile replaced Mrs. Paulson’s scowl. The change was dramatic. She looked ten years younger and ten times nicer. She must like kids better than women wearing her son’s jammies. “Hello, Liam.”

His little fingers dug into Grace’s legs.

She patted his hand, trying to release his death grip on her. “It’s okay.”

“How old are you, Liam?” Mrs. Paulson asked.

He stuck three fingers out to the side, then added a fourth.

“Three and a half,” Grace said.

Liam poked his head out. “Almost four.”

“Almost four,” Mrs. Paulson repeated. “You’re a big boy.”

Liam jumped to the left like a jack-in-the-box on its side. “Big and strong like Bill.”

“Yes, you are.” She studied him, then looked at Grace. “You said you were from out of town.”

“Georgia.”

“What brings you to Hood Hamlet?”

“Just passing through.”

Liam looked around. “Bill? Where’s he?”

“At work,” Grace said.

Liam’s lower lip stuck out. Quivered. “Want Bill. Time to play.”

She touched her son’s shoulder. “We talked about this last night. Bill’s working at the fire station.”

Liam stared at the floor as if his world had come to an end.

Grace had to admit she, too, would rather be speaking with Bill than Mrs. Paulson. Damon’s mom hadn’t liked her much, either. Maybe it was a mother-with-sons thing. Grace vowed not to be like that when Liam brought a girlfriend home someday. “Your son is my son’s new best friend.”

“I’m not surprised. Bill’s a kid at heart. That boy will never grow up. Though I wish he’d find a good woman and settle down.” Mrs. Paulson removed a cookie from the cookie jar and gave it to Liam. “This will make you feel better.”

Grace sighed. “This is the second day in a row he’s had a cookie for breakfast. He’ll be spoiled rotten by the time we leave.”

“Nothing wrong with a little spoiling,” Mrs. Paulson said. “I do that with Bill. I was wondering why the house looked cleaner than usual this morning. You must have dusted and vacuumed. Decorated the tree and the house, too.”

The woman didn’t sound pleased, but Grace wasn’t going to let Bill’s mother get to her. She had allowed that to happen with Damon’s mom. “The least I could do. I’m so grateful for Bill’s hospitality. I plan on doing as much as I can for him in return.”

“Thoughtful, but unnecessary. I come over the mornings he works at the station, to help out. He claims I do too much for him, but he gets distracted with his rescue work, climbing and skiing. Someone needs to take care of him.”

Grace didn’t know what to say. From the time she was twelve she’d done laundry, cleaned the house, washed dishes and cooked meals. Her parents’ high expectations had led Grace to work hard around the house and at school to make good grades. As long as she met their demands, everything was fine. If she didn’t, they’d made her feel like a stray cat they regretted bringing into the house. “Bill’s lucky to have a mother who wants to do so much for him.”

Mrs. Paulson focused on Liam, who ate the cookie. “You’ll understand when your son gets older. They grow up so fast.”

Grow up
were the key words here. Grace hoped by the time Liam was thirty he would want to take care of himself, and she would let him.

Mrs. Paulson walked back to the kitchen. “What would you like for breakfast, Liam?”

“Eggs and toast, please,” he answered.

The woman beamed brightly. “Such manners.”

The surprise in her voice made Grace grit her teeth. “I can make you breakfast, Liam. I’m sure Mrs. Paulson has a lot to do this morning.”

“Not as much as I had planned, thanks to you.” The words didn’t sound like a compliment. “I’m happy to scramble eggs and make toast.”

“With jelly.” Liam followed the woman into the kitchen, as if being related to Bill automatically made her another friend. “I help.”

“I’d love your help. Bill used to help me cook when he was your age.” The smile on Mrs. Paulson’s face turned genuine. She looked at Grace with appreciation. The woman must be lonely. “Go ahead, take a shower and get dressed. I’ll watch Liam.”

No way. Bill’s mom might be lonely, but Grace wasn’t about to leave her son with her. “Thanks, but Liam isn’t used to being around people he doesn’t know.”

Mrs. Paulson tsked. “Don’t you worry. Liam will be fine with me. Won’t you?”

“I fine.” He opened the refrigerator for her. “Eggs inside here.”

With her head in the fridge, Mrs. Paulson waved in Grace’s direction. “Go on, now.”

Liam mimicked the gesture. “Go, Mommy.”

Something about the Paulson family made Liam feel comfortable, in a way he’d never been with anyone but her. Grace, on the other hand, felt nothing but tension, a different kind with Bill than with his mother.

Grace didn’t like to be dismissed, especially by her son. Mrs. Paulson approved of Liam, not her. Bill’s mother likely thought she was another one of Bill’s women du jour. But tense run-ins with Damon’s mom had taught Grace not to get huffy. She’d have to earn Mrs. Paulson’s respect with charm, no matter how much it irked.

And she shouldn’t be complaining.

A shower alone would be great. Her second one in as many days. A record.

“Thank you, Mrs. Paulson,” Grace said with a slow Southern smile and sweet drawl she’d learned in Georgia. “I sure do appreciate the help.”

The older woman looked startled. “Why, you’re welcome, Grace. I promise, Liam will be fine. If he needs you, we’ll come get you.”

She nodded, then walked down the hall, thinking. She didn’t know why she’d tried so hard to end their tense meeting with a draw. She and Liam would likely be gone the next time Bill’s mom showed up.

Grace might not understand her behavior, but she knew one thing—no woman would meet Mrs. Paulson’s standards for her son.

Thank goodness Bill didn’t plan on settling down anytime soon. He would need years to find a wife his mom considered to be a “good woman.”

* * *

Bill’s shift flew by, with not a lot of downtime between calls except for a five-hour stretch of sleep. Now it was Wednesday morning. Time to head out.

He wondered how Grace and Liam had fared alone.

Bill hoped they were doing well, stuck in his house for the past twenty-four hours. He hadn’t thought to leave them transportation or his cell number or a key. Most of his houseguests spent the night and were gone the next morning. No one ever stayed longer.

“Paulson.” Thomas had changed into ski clothing—insulated pants and soft shell jacket. Two long braids hung from her pink-and-purple fleece cap. She might be “one of the guys,” but according to Christian she liked girlie things, too. “See you on the hill.”

Bill would swing by home, check on his houseguests, grab his gear and be on his way. “Won’t take me long.”

Fifteen minutes later, he opened his front door.

Christmas carols played. The scents of cinnamon and vanilla filled the air.

He took another sniff. His mouth watered. Whatever was cooking smelled delicious.

He closed the door behind him.

Liam ran from the kitchen-dining area, his arms outstretched and mouth open. He barreled into Bill, hugging him tight. “Big dude is home.”

Warmth pressed down on the center of his chest. No one had ever welcomed him home like this. He lifted Liam into his arms. “How’s it going, bud?”

Liam cuddled and rested his head against Bill’s shoulder. “Going great now.”

A figure-eight-shaped knot formed in Bill’s throat. He tightened his grip on the boy, who squeezed back, his little fingers holding on as if Bill was as important to him as his beloved Peanut.

Unexpected warmth flowed through Bill. This was a different feeling than holding a soft, sweet-smelling woman. Different, but good. He didn’t want to let go of the kid.

Whoa. What was he thinking? Maybe five hours of sleep last night hadn’t been enough. “Where’s your elephant?”

Liam squirmed.

Bill placed him on the ground.

The kid ran to the kitchen, darting past Grace, who stood in the doorway. She wore a pair of boot-cut jeans and a baggy forest-green, long-sleeved T-shirt that hid her waistline and chest. The kind of shirt women wore when they didn’t want a man to notice their assets.

But Bill already knew.

Grace was luscious. His good manners, not her camouflage shirt, kept her safe from prying eyes and fingers. Though the thought of slipping his hands up her shirt made his mind go blank and his temperature rise.

Stop. He’d gone over this. Seducing Grace would be wrong. She needed someone reliable, someone long-term, someone not destined to repeat the mistakes of his father.

Bill wasn’t about to hurt a woman and child with false promises and vows.

“Good morning.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Your welcoming committee has been waiting for you. Liam has been up since six.”

Bill wished she wanted to be part of the committee, too. He liked being welcomed home. Especially with her wearing those jeans. Unlike her blouse, the denim hugged the curve of her hips nicely, leaving nothing to his imagination. “No sleeping in for you.”