Rescued by his Christmas Angel by Cara Colter Page A

thatturned, not lined up on top of the stove. The oven mitts weren’t stained and didn’t have holes burned in them.
    He could feel that horrible longing welling up in him.
    Leave, he told himself. Instead of leaving as completely as he would have liked, he left the kitchen and went and worked on the stand. So it would be done right.
    By the time she came back in, he had the stand modified to actually hold up a tree, and had the tree standing back up.
    â€œThis is a foolishly large tree,” he told her.
    She smiled, mistaking it for a compliment. “Isn’t it?”
    He sighed. “Where do you want it?”
    â€œI should put the lights on while it’s on the ground,” she told him. “Come have your cocoa before it cools this time. I’ll worry about the tree later.”
    But somehow, he knew now he’d be putting the lights on it for her, too. It was too pathetic to think of her trying to put them on with the tree lying on the floor, creative as that solution might be to her vertical challenges.
    It occurred to him, she was proving a hard woman to get away from. And that with every second he stayed it was going to get harder, not easier.
    Okay. The lights. That was absolutely it. Then he was leaving.
    He went and sat beside her on the couch as she handed him cocoa. He took a sip. It was not powdered hot chocolate out of a tin, like he made for Ace on occasion. It was some kind of ambrosia. There was cinnamon mixed with the chocolate.
    Morgan McGuire had witch-green eyes. She was probably casting a spell on him.
    â€œSo, do you and Ace have family to spend the holidays with?” she asked.
    He wished he would have stuck with the lights. That was definitely a “getting to know you” kind of question.
    â€œWe alternate years. Last year we were with my parents, who live in Florida now, so this year we’re with Cindy’s side of the family, Ace’s aunt Molly and uncle Keith. They have a little place outside of town. We’ll go out there after the production on Christmas Eve and spend the night.”
    He didn’t say his own house was too painful a place to be on Christmas Eve. He did not think he could be there without hearing the knock on the door, opening it expecting to see Cindy so loaded down she couldn’t open the door.
    By then, Cindy had been gone so long he suspected she was coming home with a little more than reindeer poop.
    â€œHow about you?” he asked, mostly to avoid the way his thoughts were going, to deflect any more questions about his plans for Christmas.
    Which were basically get through it .
    She was the kind of woman you could just spill your guts to. If you were that kind of guy.
    Which he wasn’t.
    â€œOh.” She suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I’m not sure yet.”
    â€œYou won’t go home?” he asked, suddenly aware it wasn’t all about him, detecting something in her that was guarded. Or maybe even a little sad.
    â€œNo,” she said bravely. “With The Christmas Angel on Christmas Eve I decided to just stay here.”
    Again, focused intently on her now, he heard something else. And for whatever reason, he probed it.
    â€œYour family will be disappointed not to have you, won’t they?”
    She shrugged with elaborate casualness. “I think my mom is having a midlife crises. After twenty-three years of working in an insurance office, she chucked everything, packed a backpack and went to Thailand. She told me she’ll be on a beach in Phuket on Christmas day.”
    â€œAnd what about your dad?”
    â€œHe and my mom split when I was eleven. He’s remarried and has a young family. I’m never quite sure where I fit into all that.” And then she added ruefully, “Neither is he.”
    Nate didn’t know what to say.
    His family might have been rough around the edges, but not knowing where you fit into the arrangement? He had been alternating