Faith knelt on the floor at the back of the store, surrounded by miles of tangled Christmas lights. Overwhelmed, she looked up at Dwayne. “And why, exactly, did you wait until so close to Christmas to bring this to me?”
“Ah…” He grimaced and scratched his head. “I wasn’t sure whether or not I was going to do it this year. And I thought I’d be able to figure it out on my own. But I’m just realizing why MaryAnn spent weeks on setting this up every year.” He sighed and shook his head. “I wouldn’t ask you… I know how busy you get during the holidays…but…” He lifted his gaze to Faith’s and the pain there resonated with her intimately. “I can’t take the darkness or the silence anymore. The holidays were so lively, so full of fun, when MaryAnn was here…”
His voice broke. He dropped his gaze to the mess on the floor with a sad laugh, but not before Faith saw his eyes glisten with tears.
Her heart broke for him. For herself. For all the Christmases ahead that she and Dwayne would have to spend without the people they loved in their lives.
Holding back her own pain, Faith pushed to her feet, stepped over the light strands and gripped Dwayne’s biceps. She worked up a smile and squeezed his arms. “I understand. Perfectly. I’ll get this working for you, Dwayne. I promise.”
He lifted a wobbly smile just as a young male voice bellowed Faith’s name. “Auntie Faith! Auntie Faith! Where are you?”
Dwayne smiled, the expression sad. Hollow. “Caleb.”
“Yeah.” She dropped her arms and planted her hands on her hips. “His mom’s got some work to do. He’s helping me here today.”
Dwayne’s laugh was tired. “Oh, well…good luck with that. If you figure out a way to get him to pay more attention on the ice, let me know. Thanks for…um…”—he gestured to the equipment—“this.”
“Of course.”
Caleb ran past the aisle. Then his tennis shoes squeaked to a halt on the linoleum floor, and he reappeared near the end cap. “Auntie Faith, guess who’s here?”
Faith grinned at the boy’s ever-present enthusiasm. “Hi, Caleb. I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
“But…but…but guess who’s in town.”
Dwayne laughed. “You gotta knock that off, kid. He’s not going to put up with any fangirling.”
“There you are.” Taylor appeared at the end of the aisle behind her son. “Jeez, Caleb. What happened to waiting for me?”
Caleb glanced over his shoulder. “You always talk with Cody’s mom forever.”
Faith crossed her arms and looked at Taylor. “What’s going on?” Man, she hoped Caleb’s father hadn’t started coming around. The asshole would just bail like he always did and break Caleb’s heart again. “Sounds pretty exciting.”
Caleb’s head snapped back toward Faith. “Grant Saber is here,” he said with the same awe and enthusiasm as Faith would have expected from him at a monster truck show. “And he’s helping with the team.”
The only team Caleb could have been talking about was the hockey team. No matter how hard Taylor tried, she couldn’t get her nerdy boy interested in any other sport or team.
“You like that, huh?” Dwayne asked, patting Caleb’s shoulder as he wandered past and down the aisle.
“Yeah,” Caleb said with a tone of “duh.”
“Caleb” was all Taylor had to say before the boy realized his misstep.
“I mean, yes, sir. It’s awesome. He’s really cool.”
“Extra cool since he only came to help out the high school team but stayed over to help your club team, huh?” Dwayne asked, the first real grin lighting his eyes.
“Totally.” Then suddenly, Caleb’s excitement turned to concern. “He’ll come again, right? I mean, he wasn’t there for just today…” Caleb’s worried gaze darted to Taylor. “Mom? I didn’t get his autograph. I thought he’d be back.”
Taylor was beaming. Caleb’s disinterest in sports or even playing on the playground in favor of quieter endeavors had caused the already-introverted boy to be shoved aside for more active, more popular friends in school.
“Autograph, huh?” Faith said, shooting a questioning gaze toward Taylor. “Well, if you stick around long enough, he’ll be here. He’s been in at least three times a day for the last two days.”
“Really?” Caleb said.
Dwayne strolled past Caleb, patting his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Caleb, he’s here for a few weeks. But you’d better get all that excitement out before you hit the ice this afternoon. He wants you kids focused and ready to work.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, serious and stoic. “I will, sir. I promise.”
Dwayne chuckled, said hello to Taylor and waved good-bye to Faith.
Before Faith could ask Taylor or Caleb about Grant—more specifically why Caleb wanted his autograph—Caleb looked at Faith and said, “How old would I have to be to work here, Aunt Faith?”
Faith’s brows shot up. “Well, that’s new. You didn’t want to have anything to do with helping out a few months ago.”
“So you’ll let me?”
Faith lifted her gaze to Taylor, grinning. “I’ll talk to your mom about it.”
“Thanks, Aunt Faith.” He turned to his mother. “Can I go look at the fishing poles?”
“From hockey to fishing in a split second.” A little of the excitement leaked from Taylor’s expression. “Sure.”
Caleb hurried in the direction of the outdoors department where Faith carried a limited supply of recreational gear for tourists, and Taylor came toward Faith.
“That’s who you met at the bar the other night,” she said, voice lowered. “The guy you said asked you out, right? Grant Saber?”
“Yeah.” Her stomach tightened. “Why? Who is he?”
“He’s a center for the Rough Riders.” Her voice and expression held as much excitement as her son’s.
But Faith was having a hard time placing the Rough Riders. “I’m guessing that’s a hockey team?”
That accounted for his great build. This celebrity Faith couldn’t appreciate was obviously why he’d thought she should have known him. It also seemed to be what he was looking for every time he came into the store.
“It’s an NHL team, Faith.”
“Don’t say that like I’m supposed to know. You know I don’t have time to watch television. And I only pretended to watch sports to keep Dad company.”
“Why has he been coming in? Did he ask you out again? Because you should go. He’s hot. And he’s loaded.”
“And he’s just looking to get laid like his brothers.” She gave Taylor a look. “You hate his brothers. You turn them down every time they’re in town. Why would you suggest I go out with Grant?” Suddenly, she was mad. “Do you really think I’m so bad off that I need to go out and fuck some slutty player? Because I’ve got more important things—”
“No.” Taylor’s hand closed over Faith’s forearm, her voice level again, her eyes serious. “That’s not what I meant.”
Faith shut her mouth and lifted both hands to her face to rub at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m tired.” She’d lost sleep over Grant. Grant and all the little fantasies he’d stirred in her head. She swept a gesture over the lighting extravaganza equipment. “And Dwayne just dumped this project on me.”
She crouched and started winding light strands from palm to elbow, palm to elbow.
“What I meant,” Taylor said, “is that he’s not his brothers. He’s never been in town. This is the first time he’s been back since he went pro.”
Now she was sort of impressed that he hadn’t told her that he was a pro hockey player, or that he was here to help coach the local teams when he’d come into the store. And she didn’t want to be impressed. Because she didn’t have time or patience for this shit. “That doesn’t matter. He’s still looking to get laid. What is it about these guys? Do they think we’re all hard up because we’re out here in the boonies? It may be true, but it’s still insulting.”
Taylor laughed. Hard. Which brought a reluctant smile to Faith’s lips.
“It is really cool to see Caleb excited about something, though,” Faith said. “I haven’t seen his eyes light up like that in a long time.”
“Right?” Taylor said. “So is that why Grant’s been in here so much?”
Faith shrugged as she finished rolling a strand, secured the end and started on another. She’d be here the rest of the day untangling these things. “Hey, Caleb,” she yelled through the store. “If you come untangle these lights for me, I’ll pay you.”
“Stop avoiding the question,” Taylor said.
When Caleb didn’t yell back or appear, Faith muttered, “So much for working here. Guess I’ll be hiring Billy Danielson after all.” Then she told Taylor, “Grant’s staying with his parents. Apparently, they don’t get along all that well, so he picked up some odd jobs around the house to stay busy and away from them. He’s always here picking up supplies and asking for advice.”
“And? Are you helping him?”
“Sure.” She smiled up at Taylor now. “I tell him to search YouTube.”
“Faith…” Taylor dropped her arms and rolled her eyes.
“I don’t have time to babysit him. He’s a grown-ass man. He can figure it out himself.”
Taylor heaved an exasperated sigh.
“And speaking of YouTube, when can we get together to figure something out for me? I’m serious, Taylor. I’m bleeding money faster than it’s getting pumped back in. It’s only a matter of time. Do you want me to sell this place and move away from you and Caleb? Because that’s about where my life is headed at the moment.”
A pained look came over Taylor’s face. Faith hated to paint such a bleak picture, but she was very serious. And that was what Faith saw in her future.
“Fine.” Taylor crossed her arms again. “You need to think of a project, and I need to get some things done so I can focus on teaching you the steps—”
Faith didn’t hear anything Taylor said after that, because Grant sauntered around the corner and into their aisle. His gaze fastened on Faith with bold deliberateness and made her stomach jump to her throat.
“Do I hear you ladies talking about YouTube?” he asked, wandering toward them. Taylor spun around, but Grant’s gaze stayed locked on Faith in a way that made her mouth go dry. A slow smile tipped his mouth. “Because I’d be real interested in getting in on a video with y’all.”
A laugh bubbled up from nowhere. “Y’all?” Faith said, hiding her nerves behind sarcasm. “You picked up a Southern accent in the last…” She pretended to look at a nonexistent watch. “What? Three, four hours?”
He laughed. “You’re so funny.”
“I try.” She pulled her gaze off all the muscle stretching the soft fabric of his Henley and grabbed another string of lights. “I need something to keep me from”—fantasizing about you—“going insane.”
“Hi,” Taylor said, extending her hand. “I’m Taylor, Caleb’s mom.”
“Grant,” was all he offered as they shook. “Yeah, saw him messing around with the fishing poles. He told me you were back here.” He took his hand back and slipped his thumb into the front pocket of his jeans, which drew Faith’s gaze to an area she had no business looking at. “Great kid. Little hyper for hockey, but if I can get him to channel it, he’s going to streak across the ice.”
Taylor laughed. “If you get him to channel it, I’ll pay handsomely for the secret.” She looked at Faith. “I’d better go find him before he breaks something.” Then she told Grant, “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
When his gaze settled on Faith again, he grinned. And it was that expectant grin. The one that said he was waiting for her to go all batshit crazy over him.
“What have you got there?” she asked instead, glancing at the rusted faucet he held in his hand. “And how are you finding so many things that need fixing at your parents’ house? That place looks like a pristine mansion from the outside.”
“Kitchen faucet,” he said, “and it’s not from the main house, it’s from the guesthouse. That’s where I’m staying. And when I’m fixing something, neither of my parents bitch at me. So I’m happy to do it.”
“That has to suck.”
He lifted a shoulder but broke eye contact and studied the faucet. “Whatever.” He refocused on her. “Are you going to wind all those yourself?”
“I tried to tempt Caleb with a paycheck, but those fishing reels must have really caught his eye.”
“I’ll help.” He moved forward. “And you don’t even have to pay me.”
She smirked. “Oh no?”
He dropped into a crouch, looked her directly in the eye, and grinned. “I’m more into trades.”
Setting aside the faucet, he dropped to his butt, crossed his legs, and grabbed the tail end of a light strand.
“We’re not trading anything,” she clarified.
“That remains to be seen.”
“You must have better things to do.”
“Than sit here and look at you?” he asked. “Nope. Notta one.” When Faith just shook her head, he asked, “So what’s your project? The one you were talking to Taylor about?”
Faith’s stomach tightened. “How long were you eavesdropping?”
“Why? Saying things you don’t want me to hear? About me maybe?”
“Pfffft. We weren’t talking about you.”
“If you say so. But it would probably be better for you to just tell me about the video you’re planning, because I’m sure your version would be tamer than the things I have rolling around my brain right now.”
“And why are you so sure of that?” She was caught between annoyance at his arrogance and amusement at the lengths he was going to gain her attention. “Because I live in the boondocks, you don’t think I can think just as dirty as you?”
His hands halted in the middle of winding a strand. He lifted his brows in a teasing expression, but his pretty eyes took on a little shadow of heat. “Should we compare notes?”
Man, that voice. The smooth, low rumble settled heat low in her gut. But she chirped, “No, thanks.”
And he chuckled, refocusing on the lights. “Hey, I’m really sorry to hear about your dad.”
The warm, authentic tone of his voice drew her head up.
He glanced at her, then back at the lights. “I didn’t know him well, but he was always real nice to me.”
The sadness that always came with the reminder of her father’s death weighed heavy in her heart. “Thanks. He was an amazing man.”
They continued to wind lights in silence for a minute or two, but the time stretched into an eternity while Faith kept trying to figure him out.
When she couldn’t and her frustration won out, Faith tied off another strand and tossed it into the growing pile. “Why are you sitting on the floor winding lights?”
He looked up. “I’m helping.”
She tipped her head and gave him a come-on look.
He grinned, shrugged. “Maybe I’m trying to come up with a way to ask you out that you can’t refuse.” He darted a glance at her from beneath those thick lashes. “Maybe I’m hoping if you get to know me a little, you’ll say yes. Maybe—”
“Maybe you don’t want to go home,” she finished for him.
“Maybe. But those other things are true too.” He tossed another rolled strand into the pile. “I’m dying to know what project you’ve got planned with this mess.”
She sighed—partly because of the mess in front of her and partly because over the last couple of days, she’d grown to like the guy. And she didn’t want to like him. “This isn’t my proj—”
Something clicked in her head. Her hands froze. And she looked at the pile again, but this time she saw something other than a headache. She saw an opportunity.
“What just put that spark in your eye?” Grant asked.
She met his gaze, and when she found true interest there, she explained her thoughts about following Taylor’s example on YouTube. “Taylor makes really good money doing it. Granted, she talks about a totally different topic, and my knowledge may not generate the same interest, but…”
“But you’ve got to try.” He leaned back against a shelf, stretched out his legs, and crossed his feet at the ankles. Then met her eyes as he tossed more lights into the pile. “Because from what I heard, it sounds like you don’t have much of a choice.”
Her shoulders fell, and she looked away, ashamed to be stuck in this spot. Worse, she hated telling a stranger how desperate she was. Especially a stranger who had more money than he knew what to do with. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sure you will,” he said, his voice confident and sincere. “But you might figure it out faster if you let me help.” When she shot him an exasperated look, he held up both hands. “No ulterior motive. Okay, other than staying as far away from my parents as possible. And, yeah, maybe I’d like to get to know you better. I never got the chance in high school. That Brady kid had you hog-tied.”
“So you’re the Saber who was in my class.”
“Guilty. And I know a little about video. Shooting, cutting, and editing it. Getting it up online. That’s what you want help with, isn’t it?”
“Partly, yes.” Faith wondered when he was going to throw in his professional hockey player status. When he was going to mention how much money he had. When he’d start dropping the names of other famous people he hung with in the big city.
He grabbed another strand of lights and started winding. “And…”
“I knew it,” she said. “Here it comes.”
“I’d also like to do something to cheer up Dwayne.”
Faith frowned. “How’d you know this all came from Dwayne?”
“I saw him leaving. And who else in town has enough equipment for a freaking Christmas in Fantasia?”
“Good point.”
“It’s a hard time of year for him since MaryAnn passed. I know it would mean a lot to him if he could get this working for her. For the people in town who have looked forward to it every year for decades.”
Ah, crap… Faith sighed heavily. He had to be handsome and hot and sweet?
“What?”
She just shook her head.
“Too proud?”
“What?” she asked.
“Are you too proud to accept help?” he asked.
She pressed her lips together.
He laughed, nodded. “I sorta figured that one out the night we met.”
“Shut up.”
After tying off the last strand of lights, he tossed them into a pile. He got to his feet, waited for Faith to finish her strand, then offered a hand to help her up.
She took it and immediately regretted it. He was big and strong and warm. And the intimacy of the simple touch crushed another barrier between them. Then he pulled her to her feet with enough force to tip her off-balance, and she fell into him with a squeak. Her chest hit his; their thighs bumped. She pulled in a shocked breath and tried to ease away, but he’d already slipped his arm around her waist and held her tight. Their bellies pressed. Their hips aligned.
“Grant…”
Grant what? Her mind told her to tell him to let her go. But her body didn’t want to have anything to do with that idea.
“Still have my number?” he asked.
But the words didn’t register in Faith’s head. All she could focus on was every point where their bodies connected. The way his forearm felt low on her back. The heat of his hand curved around her waist. The way a few of his fingers touched flesh where her shirt had ridden up. The thickness of his thigh between hers.
“Faith?”
She glanced up. Oh, shit—wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He was looking down at her, his lips right there. Right. There.
Faith had forgotten how to breathe.
She watched his lips as he spoke again. “Do you still have my number?”
“No.” She forced herself to at least sound like she was in control. “I threw it out.”
His lips kicked up in a lopsided grin and his straight, white teeth contrasted with his tanned skin. He released her hand and reached around to his back pocket but still held her tight against his body. Then his hand came back, stroking her hip, rounding behind her, and sliding over her ass.
Tingles seared her skin. Heat flooded every inch of her body below the waist. She sucked a breath. “Grant—”
“There,” he said, pulling his hand from her pocket and loosening the arm around her waist. “Now you have it again.”
He released her but let his hand rest on her hip an extra second before leaning away. Just when Faith thought she had her feet back under her, he lifted a hand and brushed a lock of hair off her forehead, then tucked it behind her ear.
Faith closed her eyes. She couldn’t help it.
His knuckles grazed her cheekbone before he murmured, “Call me, beautiful. We’ll get your video made. Get you back on your feet.”
She swallowed and shored up her strength before she opened her eyes again.
Just in time to see him turn the corner out of the aisle and disappear.
