Her Christmas Hero

“I don’t know.”

“John Lincoln, you make yourself available to that young woman. She’s taking on a big job and we need to be there for her.”

“Mom, I have my hands full trying to run the business. I don’t have time to play host.”

“Do you know if she’s met with the Chamber folks yet?”

Linc rubbed his forehead. “No. I’ve only spoken to her once.”

“Son, I’ve dumped a big project in her lap and I’m not there to guide her. I want you to attend those meetings and make sure she has all she needs. You’ve helped me with Christmas events several times and you know what to do.”

“Mom, maybe it’s time you came home. We miss you. Especially now. Tori’s not doing well. If you were here you could help this woman yourself. It would keep you busy and your mind off...things.”

“You think keeping busy will make me forget I lost the man I’ve loved for nearly forty years?”

His mother’s harsh tone humbled him. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I’ll be home soon. I promise. And I’ve been talking to your sister. She just needs to work through this in her own way. In the meantime, you watch over Gemma. She’s a good friend and I want her to know we’re supporting her.”

“Friend? Mom, how do you know this woman?”

“Remember the retirement party for Harvey Morgan? She’s the one who planned that whole thing. It was amazing. I went to tell her what a splendid job she’d done and we connected right away. I think she’s exactly what Dover needs to spark up the Christmas events.”

What was going on? “The events are just fine the way they are.”

“Be that as it may, will you do as I ask and look out for her?”

“Fine. I’ll pay her a visit tonight.”

“Thank you, dear. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

Linc hung up, then lay his head on the back of the recliner. So much for the football game. He needed downtime, a few hours of mindless distraction from the pressure at the office. The last thing he wanted to do was play gracious host to the new tenant. In fact, he’d like to avoid the woman altogether. Something about her disturbed him, but he wasn’t sure what or why. He’d even dreamed about her last night. Not a good thing.

He didn’t understand why his mother was so concerned about the woman handling the job. Mom had the decorations and celebrations down to a science. All that Gemma had to do was follow the plan from the previous years and it would be a breeze. But, as he’d promised his mom, first he’d make her feel welcomed.

Leveraging himself from the recliner, he went to the freezer in the utility room and pulled out one of his mom’s frozen pecan pies. Her standard welcome-to-the-area offering.

Slipping on his athletic shoes, he didn’t bother to tie the laces. This would be a quick howdy-do. He’d hand her the pie, offer her his assistance, then get back to the game. The Saints had the ball.

All the lights in the cottage were blazing when he knocked on the door. He shifted impatiently as he waited. He’d reached out to knock again when the door opened and Gemma appeared. The lights from inside framed her in a soft glow, making her skin translucent and her reddish-blond hair spark with light. She was stunning. His mouth went dry and he forgot why he was here. “Uh. My mom, I mean, I brought you a pie. Pecan pie.” He went warm all over. What was wrong with him? He never had trouble talking to women, but for some reason he was as tongue-tied and awkward as a teenager with his first crush. “I should have brought it sooner. To welcome you. As a tenant.” He suddenly wished the porch boards would collapse and swallow him into the ground.

She smiled, her green eyes twinkling like emeralds. “That’s very kind of you. I’m sure Francie would have brought it herself if she was here.”

Linc frowned. Was she implying that he obviously hadn’t thought of this himself? She was right, but he didn’t like the idea that she could read him. “Actually, I wanted to bring it as an apology gift, too.” Good move. Now he was back on track. “I wasn’t very hospitable yesterday when you arrived. I didn’t know Mom had leased the cottage. And, uh, I’ve been too busy to get over here before this.”

She raised an eyebrow, then dropped her gaze down to his feet and his untied laces. “And you were so anxious to get the pie to me that you forgot to tie your shoes?”

“No. I—” Heat infused his neck and cheeks. Linc Montgomery didn’t like being off balance. He was always the one in charge. This woman was downright irritating.

“My son does that when he’s in a hurry to finish an unpleasant task. Like taking out the garbage, or bringing a pie to a neighbor.”

Her eyes weren’t twinkling now. They were dark and challenging. Well, he’d show her. He flashed his best smile. “A neighbor I should get to know better. Where would you like me to put this?” He stepped closer, edging past her to the door. She was not going to get the best of him.

She moved aside, following him into the living room. “Just put it in the kitchen.”

He smiled over his shoulder. “It’s frozen.”

“So you didn’t bake it yourself, then?”

“I could have.” He cringed at the stupidity of that remark. He could no more bake a pie than knit a sweater. Mr. Smooth Moves with the ladies was playing one-upmanship with a girl. No, a woman. A disturbingly attractive and quick-witted one at that.

She stood in the small eating area while he placed the pie on the counter. He looked at her and smiled again. She didn’t smile back. “So is there anything I can do for you? Anything need fixing, problems with the house, something up high I can get down for you?”

She arched her brows. “Everything is fine. We don’t need a thing. And I have a step stool.”

“Hey, Mom.” The boy charged into the room, his shoes squeaking on the floor when he stopped. “Hi, Mr. Linc.”

Linc searched his memory for the boy’s name. “Hey, Evan.” He noticed the junior-size football in the boy’s hands. “You play?”

“Naw. Mom can’t throw and I don’t know anyone yet.”

“I’ll play with you. Just holler. When you see that red truck at the main house that means I’m home. I love football.”

The boy’s face split in a wide smile. “Did you play?”

“Sure did. All through college.”

“Pro, too?”

“No. I wasn’t tall enough.” He shrugged. “Only six feet.”

“Drew Brees is only that tall.”

“Yes, but he has talent.”

Evan chuckled, then hurried from the room.

Gemma gave him a cool glare. “That was very nice of you. Assuming you follow up on your offer?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She shrugged. “I’ve learned people say a lot of things they don’t mean. Promises aren’t worth much.”

“They are to me.”

“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”