Stranded With a Hero by Karen Erickson, Cindi Madsen, Coleen Kwan, Roxanne Snopek

antlers, and why she had a smudge of glitter on her chin.
    Aware of the silence between them, he realized he’d been staring at her without shame. She backed up a few steps, as if suddenly alert to the fact she was home alone with a strange man who couldn’t stop ogling her.
    “Um, I’ll let you get settled in.” She hesitated. “I was just about to make myself a cup of tea, if you’d like one.”
    A cup of tea when his T-shirt was sticking to his back? But, determined to improve on the poor first impression he’d made on Naomi, he said, “I’m all settled in, and I’d love a cup of tea.”
    She eyed him doubtfully before nodding. “Okay.”
    She led him to the back of the house where a country-style kitchen adjoined a casual family room. There were photos on the walls, toys and books scattered on the couches, and a basket of towels in front of the TV. The place reminded him of his sister’s place back in Mecklenburg in upstate New York. Donna, her husband Bill, and their two kids lived a five-minute drive from his parents. Thank God for Donna. At least she didn’t make him feel guilty every time he visited his hometown, which, according to his mom, was much too seldom.
    While Naomi filled the kettle, Aaron moved to the kitchen table and inspected the assortment of cards, paints, and glitter strewn across the surface.
    “Just some last-minute Christmas cards,” Naomi said.
    So that explained the glitter on her chin. “You make your own Christmas cards?” He picked up a red card adorned with a gold angel.
    She nodded as she lifted two mugs from a cupboard. “I like to, though it’s time-consuming. You probably buy yours, like most sane people.”
    “I don’t send out Christmas cards.”
    “You don’t?” She hesitated. “I guess they aren’t too good for the environment, are they?”
    Aaron gave her a rueful grin. “I wish I could say I don’t send Christmas cards to save the planet, but no.”
    “Well, it’s a girl thing—the cards.”
    He could have nodded agreement and left it at that, but maybe the heat had got to his brain because he heard himself say, “It’s not just cards. The plain truth is, I don’t enjoy Christmas.”
    From her horrified wince, he might as well have said he liked torturing puppies.
    “Um, wow. That’s a pity.” She busied herself making the tea.
    Aaron toyed with the Christmas card, wondering if he should have been more diplomatic. But why should he lie? Even if, for whatever reason, he wanted Naomi to think more kindly of him.
    “Don’t you find the whole Christmas thing too commercialized, too hyped-up?” he said.
    She set two mugs of steaming hot tea on the table and gestured to him to sit. “I guess it can get commercialized,” she said as she brought a plate of cookies to the table and sat opposite him. “If you let it. But I try not to go on a spending spree. I like making things, like the cards and these biscuits.”
    He glanced at the cookies, chose a gingerbread man, and bit off its head. “My mom likes baking Christmas cookies, too.”
    Naomi’s face brightened. “There you go. I bet she enjoys celebrating Christmas.”
    That was an understatement. If celebrating Christmas were an Olympic sport, his mom would be a gold medalist, and his dad would collect the silver.
    “She makes a gingerbread house every year without fail.” With a sigh, Aaron dunked his cookie in the steaming tea and bit into it.
    “That sounds lovely.” A puzzled frown settled on her brow. “I still don’t understand why you don’t like Christmas.”
    Aaron blew on his tea. He was flying back to New York the day before Christmas Eve and would arrive in Mecklenburg just in time for Christmas, which was exactly how he’d planned it. “You don’t want to know.”
    “No, really, I do.” She leaned forward, her face reflecting genuine curiosity, as if she’d never met anyone with his anti-Christmas attitude. “Did something terrible happen to you one Christmas?”
    If