Free Christmas at Twilight by Lori Wilde Page A

woman was a cut above most people Ashley associated with, and he was fascinated.
    Who was she really? He had so many questions, but he was simply too weary to bother with a Magic Slate conversation. Was this how his life was going to be from now on? Full of things he wanted to say but couldn’t?
    â€œYou’re unnerving me,” she called over her shoulder. “Staring at me like that.”
    Yeah? Well, whether she knew it or not, she unnerved him plenty too.
    She turned her head to peek at him, an unexpected smile on her face that made his chest swell. She likes me. But then he realized she was actually looking at Ben, who was holding out his wet hands for her inspection.
    A sheepish heat burned his gut.
    â€œThose are pretty clean hands. A little wet though,” she said, and gave the boy a cup towel to dry his hands on.
    â€œMine too?” Kimmie thrust her hands out.
    â€œPerfect,” Jane approved.
    â€œWho’s the rotten egg?” Ben asked.
    â€œHmm. Is it you?” Jane leaned down to sniff her boy. “No, you smell squeaky clean.” Flaring her nostrils in exaggeration, she moved to Kimmie. “Is it you?”
    Kimmie lifted her shoulders up to her ears as Jane sniffed her and giggled sweetly. “It’s not me.”
    Jane raised her own arm and sniffed there. Both kids giggled. “It’s not me.”
    Hutch could tell this was a game they’d played before, a funny ritual between them as if they were all family. His niece was totally comfortable with Jane, and it occurred to him that she had been taking care of Kimmie a lot.
    â€œWhere’s that rotten egg smell coming from?” Jane tipped her nose up, sniffed the air like Smokey Bear sniffing out a forest fire.
    That drew a fresh round of giggles from the children.
    â€œI know!” Kimmie cried. “Unca Hutch is the stinky one.”
    The three of them descended on him, laughing and sniffing, and in that moment, the anger, resentment, loneliness, and grief that dogged him evaporated. In that sweet second, the rage at losing his team that had simmered inside him nonstop from the moment he’d awakened at Walter Reed was gone, and for one sweet moment, he was his old self again.
    Amazingly, Hutch was laughing too. He hadn’t laughed since before the ambush. And it felt like an utter betrayal of the men who’d fought beside him and died. They would never again laugh with their families.
    His gaze met Jane’s and his laughter vanished.
    Happiness leached from her dark blue eyes. Eyes that said she couldn’t believe she was cavorting with him any more than he could believe she was doing it. She sucked in a deep breath, and stepped back. The wall came up. Her face tightened and her lips thinned and she was once again the terrified woman who’d pepper-sprayed him.
    She lifted a shaky hand, brushed her fingers across her temple as if she were pushing an errant strand back over her ear, but the close-cropped style was too short for flyaway locks, making him wonder if this haircut was something new that she couldn’t get used to.
    For the first time, he spotted a jagged, silver scar behind her left ear that staggered up into her hairline as if someone had broken a bottle over her head. Aware of where his gaze had gone, she dropped her hand, and her eyes turned flat, empty.
    What on God’s green earth had happened to her?
    The microwave dinged and Jane exhaled audibly. She bustled around the kitchen serving up the food.
    â€œDinner’s ready, kids,” she sang out, but the sound was forced, fake, devoid of her earlier joy as she carried the plates to the table.
    The children, not picking up on the shift in mood between the adults, were still giggling and sniffing.
    â€œJoin us, Hutch,” she invited, waving toward the seat at the head of the table.
    Feeling like a guest in his own house, Hutch sat.
    Jane herded the children to the table, taking extra care not to