Holiday Homecoming by Jillian Hart

the fifteen. Ryan was on his feet. Excitement zinged through him. He shoveled down pie, along with the other men in the room during the huddle, which took forever. When he should have been willing his quarterback to pass, his thoughts were not on the game. But on the golden-haired woman, her short hair sweeping against her jaw as she circled around the couch and into the dining room.
    The team broke up, warriors hungry for victory.
    â€œRun it,” Mr. McKaslin advised.
    â€œA pass, high and long,” Sam, Kirby’s husband, shouted at the screen.
    â€œNo, all they need is a field goal,” Zach argued.
    The center hiked the ball. Ryan’s fork froze in midair as he watched the play unfold. A sack attempt by the defense, but the quarterback feigned right in time, stepped left and arced the ball with the perfect spin to set it in the tailback’s hands behind the goal line. Touchdown!
    Ryan yelled right along with the others. Yeah! They had a chance of winning this one. Something buzzed at the back of his neck. He slapped his hand there—not a bug or an itch or anything. The tickle remained. When he looked up, Kristin was in his line of sight, unboxing a board game on the dining-room table.
    She sure was nice. He’d noticed that before—but notlike this. Never like this. On the plane she’d looked coolly professional in her power suit. On the long drive through Idaho, she’d looked in charge and competent. Everything he’d expect in an urban woman with, as his mom always put it, a highfalutin’ job. He’d liked that Kristin.
    He liked this one more. She was one hundred percent pure Montana girl in worn jeans and a gray U of M sweatshirt. Girl-next-door fresh and warmhearted. Deep in his chest his steel defenses buckled a little, letting in a crack in the armor. Giving way to a hitch of emotion, but he shut that down before the feeling could grow.
    His cell chirped from the entryway. Taking the pie with him, he wolfed down the last of the rich spicy pumpkin as he dashed through the room and down the hall. He dug out the phone and flipped it open. “Hey, Mom.”
    â€œI hope you’re not ruining your appetite.”
    â€œHow do you always know when I’m misbehaving? Not only do you have eyes in the back of your head but you have X-ray vision, too.”
    â€œOf course! Mothers are extraordinary, my boy. Besides, I can tell you’re talking with your mouth full. My bet is pie.”
    â€œAnd it’s good pie.”
    â€œNot one more piece, young man! The turkey comes out of the oven in twenty minutes, and I want you front and center to carve it for me. Oh! Your sister just drove up. I’ve got to go.”
    â€œI’m on my way,” he promised, snapping off the phone.
    Home . His guts tightened. Tension snaked through his muscles and he realized he was holding his breath.
    Time to go home. To face again the house that brought back memories that could make him bleed.
    He felt her presence behind him, knew it was Kristin before he turned with his coat over his arm. “My mom said I have to go home now. It’s dinnertime. It’s funny. I haven’t said those words since I was eighteen.”
    â€œAh, that’s what you get for coming home. No matter how old you are, you’re still your parents’ kid.”
    â€œYeah.” He felt awkward. He didn’t know why.
    Maybe it was because he didn’t want to face the past, or maybe it was that he didn’t want to leave this house full of love and family togetherness. Of easy laughter and unfailing devotion. He simply didn’t want to leave just yet and Kristin was the reason. The pretty woman with the shadows in her expressive eyes and the amazing blend of honest country girl and successful career woman.
    Haloed in the soft illumination of the wall sconce, she seemed to softly glow. Her hair shimmered with a hundred different shades of gold, and light burnished