Free The Christmas Catch by Ginny Baird

across the tabletop around him. His printer spewed out more papers as he typed busily at his laptop, ignoring the doorbell the first time it chimed. It rang again and Mason barked. John looked up with a start to find sun streaming in through the windows. He stood wearily and walked to the door. Pulling it open he spied Carlos dressed for the cold. Beyond him, Ellen smiled and waved from a truck loaded with winter fishing gear.
    “Carlos!” John said with surprise. “I thought you had a date.”
    “I do.” Carlos grinned broadly. “We’re just stopping by to be sure that you won’t join us.”
    Mason tried to spring out the door, but John stopped him. “Not today, buddy,” he said to his dog.
    “Come on now,” Carlos prodded. “It will be fun.”
    John slowly shook his head. “Thanks, but I can think of lots of things I’d rather do than be the third wheel on a fishing expedition.”
    Carlos’s jowls sagged with disappointment.
    “Besides,” John continued, backing into his house. “I’ve got work to do.”
    Carlos leaned forward and grabbed him by the shirtsleeve. “Amigo,” he rasped under his breath. “You don’t understand. I’ve never taken a city woman fishing!”
    “Oh, no you don’t…” John chuckled and started closing the door. “You got yourself into this; you get yourself out.”
    Carlos stared at him with pleading eyes. “I’ll give you half my catch.”
    “Half of nothing is zero. We don’t need our accountant friends to tell us that.”
    Carlos stuck his foot in the door before John could close it. “When have I ever not been there for you?”
    “Lots!”
    “Okay, maybe that’s true. But here’s the chance for you to be the bigger man.”
    “Good-bye Carlos,” John said, kicking his foot out of the doorjamb.
    John shook his head at Mason as they walked back to the table. “And people say women are complicated.”

    Back at Winterhaven, Christine carted the last of their suitcases downstairs.
    “I can’t believe we’re really leaving,” she said, glancing around the comfortable space that, in such a little while, already felt like home.
    “We’ll miss it here,” Tyler said, holding Jasper close.
    Christine smiled tenderly at her son. “At least Santa brought you some Lincoln Logs to take home.”
    “Yeah. That’s cool,” he said his face brightening.
    Christine gave the house one last perusal. Everything was pretty much in order, other than a few odds and ends. She didn’t really want to put all the things away in the event Ellen might need them. She’d even bought some extra wine when she’d purchased her replacements, thinking Ellen and Carlos might open a few bottles later.
    Ellen had called her cousin in London to gently break the news about her blooming affair with Carlos. To her happy surprise, her cousin, by now involved with a handsome Frenchman, was delighted. Carlos was nice enough, she’d stated, just a little too used to taking a walk on the wild side for her taste. Christine sighed, glad that life had a way of working out much of the time.
    “I guess we’ll let Auntie Ellen do the rest of the picking up.”
    “Why isn’t she flying back with us?” Tyler wanted to know.
    “Your Auntie Ellen had a few things to take care of,” she said, thinking of Carlos.

    About ten miles away, Ellen stood in designer boots perched over a fishing hole cut in the ice. She couldn’t believe she was doing this! Fishing in the wilds of Vermont! It was positively to-die-for adventuresome, particularly with one hot Latino along. His tender ministrations to her scorched skin had worked wonders. While she wasn’t exactly as good as new, she had improved enough to enjoy his attentions—and layer into this bulky coat.
    She felt a tug on her line and squealed with delight. “I’ve got one! Carlos, I think I’ve got one!”
    “Looks like a big one, too,” he said, stepping up behind her.
    The beast tugged harder, threatening to pull her in. “Whoa… oh!