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“He snores almost as loudly as Bobby Ray.”
The other woman laughed, then looked into the pantry again. “Poor Banner’s getting low on supplies. We’ll all have to chip in for groceries before we leave.”
“Definitely.” But Lucy wondered if he would accept any money from them. Banner seemed to be the fiercely proud and independent type. “We could make sandwiches with chips and pickles on the side. I saw some lunch meat out in the cooler. It should probably be used soon.”
“Sandwiches sound fine.”
Lucy stepped out onto the porch, glancing toward the workshop as she did so. The doors were closed, but a thin plume of smoke rose from a small chimney in the roof, indicating a woodstove of some sort. She wondered if it was really taking Banner this long to craft a simple stand for the tree or if he was busying himself in his workshop to avoid entertaining his guests. She suspected the latter.
It was probably just as well that he was staying away, she decided. She was getting much too intrigued by that man. And with her tendency to tumble into trouble, she was likely to do something stupid if she spent much more time with him—especially as close as she had been to him on this porch earlier, she thought with a touch of pensiveness.
If she had ever seen a heartache waiting to happen, it was Banner—a man so private and reserved that he had only shared one name with her.
She carried the lunch meat back inside, closing the back door on the sight of Banner’s workshop.
Working in comfortable unison, Lucy and Joan assembled the ingredients for sandwiches. Lucy’s curiosity about Joan was growing, and she had never been very successful at reining in her curiosity. She would, however, try to be as tactful as possible with her prying.
“Your children are very well behaved,” she began. “Considering everything, they’ve been real troupers today.”
Joan’s brown eyes brightened in response to the compliment. “Thank you. I really appreciate everything you all have done to entertain them.”
Lucy shrugged. “It keeps us entertained, too. Are you a single mom?”
She had tried to slip the question in casually, but subtlety had never been one of Lucy’s talents. Joan stiffened a bit. “Yes,” she replied after a moment. “I’m divorced. The kids haven’t seen their father in several years.”
“You’re doing a wonderful job with them.”
“I do my best.”
It couldn’t be easy raising two children alone, Lucy mused. Which was why a solemn respect for the responsibilities of fatherhood was high on her list of husband qualifications. Lucy definitely wanted children, and it was her intention to provide those children with a good father.
“Have you ever been married?” Joan asked, turning the questioning around.
“No, but I’m looking,” Lucy replied cheerfully.
“Um, you are?”
“Yep. I’ve been on more blind dates than I can count during the past year. None of them has led to anything promising, but I haven’t given up.”
“So you really are looking.”
“Oh, yes. I concentrated on establishing my career first, but now I’m ready to establish a family. I’ll be twenty-eight in a few months.”
“I was married at twenty-three,” Joan confided as she spread mustard on a slice of wheat bread. “Three years later we were on the verge of a breakup when I found out I was pregnant with Tyler. We struggled along for another couple of years, but Roger left while I was pregnant with Tricia. He said he couldn’t handle the pressure of a wife and two children.”
What a jerk. Keeping that thought to herself, Lucy said only, “I’m sorry.”
Joan shrugged. “It was all for the best, I suppose. The kids and I have gotten along fine without him.”
More determined than ever to make sure Tyler and Tricia had a nice Christmas, Lucy asked, “Do you have their Christmas gifts in your car?”
“Yes, hidden in the trunk. Why?”
Lucy glanced quickly toward the doorway. She could hear Pop and the children singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” in the living room, so she felt safe enough saying, “Would you like for Santa Claus to stop here for them tonight? We have a tree—and the rest of us could help you.”
Joan turned to face her, obviously intrigued by the suggestion. “I had thought I’d just wait until we reached my mother’s house, but maybe—”
“Wouldn’t they get a kick out of waking up tomorrow morning to discover that Santa found them after all?”
Joan’s smile turned tremulous in anticipation. “They would be thrilled.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Joan nodded. “It’s a deal.”
Lucy called Banner in from his workshop for lunch, which they ate around the dining room table. Bobby Ray was moving more easily now, the pain reliever having done its job, and everyone seemed to be in good spirits.
After lunch Banner carried in the six-foot-tall cedar he and Bobby Ray had found earlier. Banner had nailed a wooden stand to the bottom of the tree, which he set in one corner of the living room.
“We don’t have any twinkle lights,” Tricia said, studying the bare branches.
Her brother gave a long-suffering sigh. “We don’t have any electricity, dopey-head. The lights wouldn’t work even if we had some.”
“I’m not a dopey-head,” Tricia protested, lower lip protruding.
“Are, too.”
“Am not!”
Joan interceded quickly. “It’s Christmas Eve, kids. Don’t forget who might be listening.”
They fell silent immediately. Tricia looked around as if searching for hidden Santa listening devices. Joan and Lucy exchanged conspiratorial smiles.
Joan helped the children drape strung popcorn and paper chains around the tree. A stack of imaginative paper-glitter-button-and-ribbon ornaments waited to be hung from the branches. Pop, Miss Annie and Bobby Ray watched indulgently, offering occasional suggestions.
Lucy remembered seeing a box of cocoa in the pantry. She leaned toward Banner. “Would you mind if I make hot chocolate?”
He made a sweeping gesture toward the kitchen. “Mi casa es su casa. At least until the ice melts.”
She gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his arm. “You’re a very gracious host.”
“I’ll be even more gracious,” he countered. “I’ll help you make the cocoa.”
“You’re just trying to avoid decorating.”
He smiled, a very brief flash of white teeth against his tanned face. “You’ve got that right.”
She very nearly melted into a puddle right there at his feet. All it took was a tiny little smile, she thought in bemusement. Amazing…
He took her elbow and led her into the kitchen. By the time they’d reached the pantry, Lucy had herself under control again. Mostly.
“Well, it’s almost three o’clock,” Banner said, handing her the cocoa and sugar. “It should take an hour—at most—to decorate the tree. Then what?”
“Then…we’ll do something else,” she said with a shrug. “Games or stories or anything to keep the kids entertained until bedtime.”
She cast a quick, furtive glance toward the doorway, making sure neither of the children was within hearing range. “Joan and I were talking earlier. She has the children’s Christmas presents in the trunk of her car. We were thinking maybe Santa Claus could visit here tonight so they would have gifts under the tree on Christmas morning.”
He nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
She giggled in response to his stoically resigned expression. “What makes you think I want you to do anything?”
“Experience,” he answered dryly.
She laughed again. “Poor Banner.”
Without responding, he stepped out onto the back porch to retrieve the milk from the big cooler. “There’s some melting going on,” he commented when he came back in with the milk. “The thermometer on the porch reads a few degrees above freezing.”
“Great. Maybe we’ll be able to get out of your hair tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be glad to have your house to yourself again.”
He didn’t answer, but crossed his arms over his chest and leaned one hip against the bar. “So what do you need me to do to help with Joan’s kids?”
“I don’t suppose you would put on a Santa suit?”
“Not even if my life depended on it,” he answered evenly.
“That’s pretty much what I thought,” she said, amused. “So, how about if you get the gifts out of Joan’s trunk before it’s dark and stash them somewhere close until after the kids are asleep?”
“That I will do.”
She sighed. “I appreciate it, of course, but I would have dearly loved to see you in a Santa suit.”
He reached around her to turn down the heat beneath the bubbling cocoa. His arm brushed against her with the movement, sending a jolt of awareness through her.
“Is this some sort of kinky fetish thing?” he asked in a murmur. For a moment she couldn’t think what he was talking about, since his touch seemed to have temporarily emptied her mind.
When she realized that he was displaying yet another example of his quirky humor, she managed a smile. “I’ve always had a thing for Santa Claus.”
“Must be hard for your other boyfriends to compete.”
She took the pan of steaming cocoa off the heat, setting it on a cool burner. “So far, no one’s been able to.”
“So what would it take?”
She could feeling him watching as she ladled the hot beverage into mugs. He wasn’t an easy man to banter with—if that’s what they were doing. He was too serious, too intense. And his humor was unpredictable, to say the least.
Still, she gave it a try. “He’d have to be generous, of course.”
Banner’s left eyebrow rose. “Opening his home to stranded holiday travelers, for example?”
“Um, yeah, something like that.” She kept her gaze focused on the ladle as she reminded herself yet again that he couldn’t be taken too seriously.
“What else?”
She cleared her throat. “He should be resourceful. A good provider.”
Banner reached into the pantry and produced a bag of marshmallows for topping the hot cocoa. “How did you like the tree I found?” he asked as he handed her the bag.
Was he really comparing himself to Santa Claus? She plopped a couple of marshmallows into a mug. “It’s a lovely tree.”
He was standing rather close to her now, his arm making contact with hers again as he set one of the filled mugs on a big tray. “So what else would a guy have to do to compete with Santa for your affections?”
“He would have to be jolly, of course.”
Banner had been reaching for another mug. His hand went still. “Jolly?”
“Jolly,” she repeated firmly.
Thoughtfully he finished transferring the mugs to the tray. “I don’t suppose you would settle for two out of three?”
She smiled at him then, a bit more confident, now that she had decided he really was teasing, in his odd way. “I never settle.”
He heaved a somber sigh. “That’s what I suspected.”
Balancing the tray with the skill of a seasoned waiter, he nodded toward the living room. “Let’s go check on the progress of the tree.”
She would have liked to remain behind for a moment, just to savor the pleasure of that unexpectedly lighthearted exchange, but he was obviously waiting for her to precede him. Keeping her smile firmly in place, she walked into the living room, knowing the past few minutes would replay themselves plenty of times in her mind.
Chapter Five
Borrowing the keys from Joan, Banner slipped out to her car later that afternoon to retrieve the large plastic bags she had described to him. Stuffed into her trunk, the black drawstring-topped bags held wrapped presents for the children. There were other presents in the trunk, but Joan had instructed him to leave those, since they were for other members of her family.
He hauled the bags to his workshop. It was becoming somewhat easier to walk as the ice slowly melted. Still slippery, though, he mused, placing his boots carefully as he carried the bags to his workshop. The ground had pretty much turned to mud beneath the ice.
Glancing toward the road, he noted several large exposed patches, but no longer frozen asphalt. Ice covered the road in the shaded areas, making travel extremely hazardous, but he’d bet it would be navigable by tomorrow afternoon. His guests would be on their way, which was good for them since he knew they were anxious to be with their families.
The house was going to seem quiet after they left, he thought. It was usually the way he preferred things, but he had to admit—rather to his own surprise—that he had sort of enjoyed the last few hours. Thanks to Lucy, he added thoughtfully. Of all his guests, he knew she was the one who would linger in his thoughts after everyone was gone.
Half an hour later he was still puttering in his workshop when the door opened and a head poked in. Lucy’s head, to be specific.
“Banner?” she said. “May I come in?”
He was working at a table he’d pulled close to a back window for light. “Sure,” he said, setting down the sanding block he’d been holding. “Come in.”
She had donned her warm black parka over her Christmas sweatshirt and jeans, he noted. Black leather gloves covered her hands, and the green knit hat perched on her riotous red curls made her look more like a Christmas elf than ever. Her sparkling green eyes and rosy cheeks only added to the image. But that sexy full mouth…his gaze lingered there for a moment as he wondered just how those perfect lips would taste.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I was curious to see where you create that beautiful furniture.”
Roused from his inappropriate thoughts by her words, he nodded and swept a hand around in invitation. “This is it.”
