Risky Christmas: Holiday Secrets / Kidnapped at Christmas

The side dishes were passed around next, and with slightly less trepidation. Alyssa expressed her hatred for all vegetables and Mandy dropped a dinner roll, but that was par for the course. Leah put her napkin in her lap and reminded the girls to do the same, noting that Brian mimicked them. He also waited for Leah’s cue to start eating.

She felt self-conscious about not trusting him with the pronged fork. Instead of making stilted conversation, she tucked into her plate, pleased when Brian did the same. Unlike her daughters, who were picky eaters, he appeared to appreciate a home-cooked meal. Leah had forgotten how satisfying it felt to watch someone enjoy her food.

When the girls were finished, they started fidgeting and kicking their legs under the table. “Can we have ice cream?”

“In a few minutes,” she said, noting that they’d both eaten a fair amount. She rarely insisted that they clean their plates. “Wash up and go play.”

They took their dishes to the sink and ran off, eager to get back to their Christmas fun. Leah hadn’t been able to afford many gifts this year, but the Witness Protection Program had come through with some toys and art supplies. Along with the inexpensive items she’d purchased, and Santa’s surprise gifts, they had plenty to occupy them.

Brian ate every morsel on his plate, his fork scraping the flat surface.

“Would you like another helping?” Leah asked, amused.

He deliberated, obviously wanting more. She didn’t know where he’d put it on that lean frame.

“Go ahead,” she said with a smile, taking her own plate to the sink. “There’s plenty.” While she rinsed some dishes and tidied up the kitchen, he polished off a second serving of everything. “How is it?”

“Delicious. I think this is the best food I’ve ever eaten.”

Her cheeks heated at the compliment, which sounded sincere. She left the ice cream to thaw on the countertop and brought the cherry torte to the table, wondering how long it had been since he’d had a decent meal.

“I’ve been living on convenience store burritos.”

“That explains it,” she said, taking her seat.

He wiped his mouth with the napkin, shaking his head. “No, this is something special. Are you a chef?”

Before the girls came along, she’d gone to culinary school. “I decorate ice cream cakes in a warehouse,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but I’ve always loved to cook.” Her current job was a waste of her creative talents. Maybe in a few years she’d be placed somewhere more fitting. “What kind of construction work do you do?”

“Any kind. I specialize in custom carpentry, but I have a general contractor’s license, so I can take whatever’s available.” He leaned back in his chair, his expression sardonic. “Sometimes I dig ditches.”

Leah admired his good-natured attitude. Here she was, feeling sorry for herself because cake-decorating wasn’t a challenge. At least she didn’t have to dig trenches and lay bricks or whatever else he did. This poor guy had no furniture, no appliances. But he’d been kind enough to buy Christmas gifts for his neighbors.

“I know those presents were expensive,” she said. “Would you be offended if I offered to pay you back?”

His eyes darkened. “Yes.”

She drank another sip of tea, feeling awkward. Although he seemed nice, she didn’t know anything about him. She wanted to ask why he’d decided to play Santa, why he was alone on Christmas, and if he had a family of his own.

“I have two nieces,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Twins.”

Leah warmed to the subject. “Twins? How old are they?”

“Almost four. I bought the Santa suit two years ago, with them in mind.”

“How did they like it?”

A creased formed between his brows. “They never saw it. My sister…their mother…died in a car accident that year.”

She lifted a hand to her lips. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

He inclined his head. “Her husband was from the East Coast, so he moved back there with my nieces a few months later.”

“Have you seen them since?”

“No. He’s remarried and…they don’t remember me. I don’t think they remember her.”

“Oh, my God,” she repeated, stunned. “That’s awful.”

He didn’t disagree.

She struggled to think of something comforting to say. “Alyssa was a baby when her father died, so it’s been easier for her. Mandy took it hard. I try not to dwell on the loss, but I can’t imagine pretending he didn’t exist.”

“You still talk about him?”

“Maybe not as much as I should,” she admitted, seeing her neighbor in a different light. When he’d read Mandy and Alyssa’s letter, he must have been reminded of his nieces. It was a tragic situation. “I’m so sorry I threw you out earlier. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, relaxing a little. “I’m only telling you this because I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about…what kind of person I am.” His gaze fell to the pronged fork on the table, out of his reach.

“I’m overprotective,” she said, chagrined. “I don’t mean any insult.”

He gave her a curious look, as if contemplating the reason for her caution.

The girls burst back on the scene, begging for dessert, so Leah rose to get the ice cream. Grabbing a few small plates, she scooped smooth vanilla bean alongside the warm cherry torte. “Do you want some?” she asked Brian, serving her daughters first this time.

“Is it as good as the cookies?”

“Better,” she said.

His brows rose in agreement as he took a first bite. “Wow.”

Leah lifted a spoon to her mouth, enjoying the sweet, tart cherries and creamy vanilla ice cream. By the time dessert was over, they were all stuffed. Mandy and Alyssa had both been up since the crack of dawn and looked tired. Leah put on a Disney movie for them and returned to the kitchen, surprised to see Brian at the sink.

“I thought I’d help you load the dishwasher.”

“It doesn’t work,” she said, surprised. “I’ve never used it.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Go ahead.”

He glanced into the cabinet under the sink, checking the wiring. “It’s not hooked up right.”

“Really?”

“I can fix it if you want.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, drumming her fingertips against her elbows. “How long will it take?”