Free Do You Believe in Santa? by Sierra Donovan Page A

mother’s blouse. “Mom, she told us one night she—”
    â€œYour name is Bailey, right?” Mandy interrupted.
    Bailey nodded, pleased to be remembered, and forgot to finish what she was going to say.
    â€œAnd Rosie.” Mandy turned her eyes to the smaller girl, about two years old.
    Their mother stepped forward. “We just moved here at the beginning of the summer. I’m Renee.”
    She shook the woman’s hand. “I’m Mandy. This is Jake.”
    Jake shook Renee’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” He looked down at the girls, who hovered shyly near their mother. “And Bailey and Rosie. Nice to meet you, too.”
    And they left, before Bailey remembered what she’d been about to say.

Chapter 6
    Mandy turned the key in the front door, letting Jake into her house for the first time.
    They’d finished watching the sunset from the front seat of Jake’s rented pickup, followed by kisses that had made her heady. That headiness might have accounted for Mandy’s next idea: when they didn’t find a movie that appealed to them at the multiplex, she’d invited him to her house to watch a DVD from her collection.
    She dropped her keys on the floor as they stepped into the entryway, nearly clunking her head into Jake’s as they both bent to pick them up.
    â€œHere you go.” Jake’s fingers brushed hers as he handed her the keys.
    Mandy stepped away and switched on the lights. The living room was immediately to the right of the tiled entryway, and she tried to see it through his eyes. To her, it still felt sparse compared to the way it had looked a few days ago. Was the pine garland hanging from the mantelpiece too Christmasy for summer?
    â€œIt’s warm in here.” Jake sounded relieved.
    In contrast to the mountain breeze outside, the house still held the warmth it had built up from the afternoon sun. As Mandy started to take off her sweater, Jake helped her, sliding the sleeves down over her arms in a gesture that, perversely, set off yet another kind of shiver.
    That was what she hadn’t thought about when she invited him back to her house. The possible implications of being alone with him, at night, in her home, hadn’t hit her until they reached the front porch. Standing close to him now, completely alone, it was suddenly impossible to think of anything else.
    As he slipped her sweater off, he kissed her lightly. And handed her the sweater.
    She thought it might be his way of saying, You can trust me.
    Mandy exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and debated what to do with the sweater. She decided against opening the precariously loaded hall closet. She draped it over the back of the sofa instead.
    Jake turned to survey the living room. “So, this is the house you grew up in.”
    â€œThis is it.”
    â€œIt feels like it.” She gave him a puzzled look. “I mean, it feels like you. I mean—” He grinned ruefully.
    She tried to remember if she’d seen Jake this tongue-tied before. It hadn’t occurred to Mandy that nerves could work on both sides.
    â€œâ€˜Comfortable’ isn’t a very flattering word,” he said. “Would you settle for ‘homey’?”
    â€œIt’ll do. How about some coffee?”
    â€œSounds great.”
    She started toward the kitchen, then stopped. “You can have a seat and make yourself comfortable,” she said. “Or if you want to take a look at the movie choices . . .” She crossed the living room to the cabinet beside the television set and pulled it open to expose four rows of wide shelves. There were shelves in the doors, too.
    â€œImpressive.” Jake’s eyes took on a gleam, and he crouched on the floor for a better view. “Are they organized any special way?”
    â€œSort of.” Starting to feel more normal, Mandy crouched alongside him. “Classic dramas.” She pointed