Free Merry Humbug Christmas by Sandra D. Bricker

of
    work?”
    “Nope. Lone wolf out there, all on my own.”
    She mirrored his nod. “I see.”
    Patrick angled toward her and whispered, “No attachments
    whatsoever.”
    She looked up at him. “And you think this matters to me, why,
    exactly?”
    “No reason. I just appreciate full disclosure myself.”
    Joss chuckled. “Subtle. No attachments back on land for me
    either.”
    He nodded slowly. “I see. Good to know.”
    Victor and a sidekick began delivering salads and bowls of soup
    to the occupants of their table, cutting off the conversation at the knees. Joss had to work hard to squelch the squeal of delight that lingered in her chest at the wonderful news that Patrick Brenneman’s dating passport could be cleanly stamped: Available.
    “Is there anyone at the table who would be offended by a prayer
    over our meal?” Kathleen asked them, and the others looked at each other for verification.
    “I think that’s a delicious idea,” Connie sang.
    “Wonderful,” Kathleen said, reaching for Joss’s hand. “Patrick,
    why don’t you do the honors with an Irish blessing.”
    Joss slipped her hand into Patrick’s, and he squeezed it lightly.
    A surge of excitement shot through her. She struggled to follow the others’ example, and she bowed her head and closed her eyes.
    “The light of the Christmas star to you,” Patrick said confidently.
    “The warmth of home and hearth to you; the cheer and good will of friends to you; the hope of a childlike heart to you; the joy of a thousand angels to you; the love of Jesus the Son, and God’s peace unto every one of you.”
    He squeezed Joss’s hand one more time before adding in his sweet
    Irish brogue, “ Nollaig Shona Dhuit. Happy Christmas to everyone.”
    Kathleen let go of her hand, and Joss’s eyes fluttered open. She
    glanced at Patrick. He hadn’t released her hand; instead, he stroked Merry Humbug Christmas.indd 70
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    it gently with his thumb for several seconds before he clasped it tightly one last time.
    Joss felt her heart quiver when he finally let go, and she won-
    dered if he’d noticed that her palm had gone clammy.
    Never mind that, she thought as she unfolded the linen napkin and placed it on her lap. Why am I trembling like this?
    Joss jumped as a hand grasped her shoulder, and Rodney Jenkins
    leaned down toward her.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “I just wanted to stop over and wish you a happy holiday. I’ve got to get back up to the cabin before Marla jumps overboard. A couple of the kids had an incident today, and we’re taking our turns staying with them.”
    “I hope everyone’s all right,” she exclaimed. “Is there anything I can do?”
    “Do you have children, Joss?”
    “No, I don’t. Just a sheepdog,” she said with a laugh.
    “Well, never let your dog have a jawbreaker.”
    “Oh . . . dear . . .”
    “They’re six-for-six with two of the children in the Jenkins suite.
    Six jawbreakers, six broken teeth.”
    “Oh, you’re joking,” Patrick commiserated. “That’s horrible.”
    “We’ll survive,” he said with a shrug. “Just another day in
    paradise.”
    “Let me know if there’s anything you need.” Joss offered.
    “Enjoy your holiday,” he said with a smile. “Once I get a dog-
    gie bag of soft food up to the cabin, I think all will be well in the world again. For at least thirty minutes. After that, who knows?”
    He smacked Patrick’s shoulder gently and gave Joss a nod. “Merry
    Christmas, you two.”
    “Same to you,” he returned.
    “Send my love to Marla.”
    Once he’d retreated, Kathleen turned toward Joss. “How many
    children does that man have?”
    “Seven,” Patrick answered.
    “Oh, my. Can you imagine?”
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    Merry
    Humbug Christmas
    Joss leaned back against her chair and sighed. “No. I really can’t.”
    “No, I can’t either,” Patrick concurred.