A Cold Creek Christmas Story. RaeAnne ThayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
had dropped off the bike at the Star N, and she had been almost speechless with gratitude. Or maybe she just had been shy with older guys; he didn’t know.
He had stayed with his grandmother for just a few more weeks that summer, but whenever he had seen Celeste in town at the grocery store or the library, she had always blushed fiercely and offered him a shy but sweet smile.
Now he found himself watching her intently, hoping for a sight of that same sweet smile, but she seemed to be focusing with laser-like intensity on the books in front of her.
She read several more holiday stories to the children, then led them all to one side of the large room, where tables had been set up.
“I need all the children to take a seat,” she said in a prim voice he found incongruously sexy. “We’re going to make snowman ornaments for you to hang on your tree. When you’re finished, they’ll look like this.”
She held up a stuffed white sock with buttons glued on to it for eyes and a mouth, and a piece of felt tied around the neck for a scarf.
“Oh,” Olivia breathed. “That’s so cute! Can I make one, Dad?”
Again, how could he refuse? “Sure, if there are enough to go around.”
She limped to a seat and he propped up the wall along with a few other parents so the children each could have a spot at a table. Celeste and another woman with a library name badge passed out supplies and began issuing instructions.
Olivia looked a little helpless at first and then set to work. She seemed to forget for the moment that she rarely used her left hand. Right now she was holding the sock with that hand while she shoved in pillow fluff stuffing with the other.
While the children were busy crafting, Celeste made her way around the tables, talking softly to each one of them.
Finally she came to them.
“Nice job,” she said to his daughter. Ah, there it was. She gave Olivia that sweet, unguarded smile that seemed to bloom across her face like the first violets of springtime.
That smile turned her from a lovely if average-looking woman into a breathtaking creature with luminous skin and vivid green eyes.
He couldn’t seem to stop staring at her, though he told himself he was being ridiculous.
“You’re the Sparkle lady, aren’t you?” Olivia breathed.
Color rose instantly in her cheeks and she gave a surprised laugh. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”
“I love that story. It’s my favorite book ever.”
“I’m so happy to hear that.” She smiled again, though he thought she looked a little uncomfortable. “Sparkle is pretty close to my heart, too.”
“My dad bought a brand-new copy for me when I was in the hospital, even though I had one at home.”
She said the words in a matter-of-fact tone as if the stay had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He knew better. She had spent two weeks clinging to life in intensive care after an infection had ravaged her system, where he had measured his life by each breath the machines took for her.
Most of the time he did a pretty good job of containing his impotent fury at the senseless violence that had touched his baby girl, but every once in a while the rage swept over him like a brushfire on dry tinder. He let out a breath as he felt a muscle flex in his jaw.
“Is that right?” Celeste said with a quick look at him.
“It’s my very favorite book,” Olivia said again, just in case Celeste didn’t hear. “Whenever I had to do something I didn’t want to, like have my blood tested or go to physical therapy, I would look at the picture of Sparkle on the last page with all his friends and it would make me feel better.”
At Olivia’s words, Celeste’s big eyes filled with tears and she rocked back on her heels a little. “Oh. That’s...lovely. Thank you so much for letting me know. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
“You’re welcome,” Olivia said with a solemn smile. “My favorite part is when Sparkle helps the animals with their Christmas celebration. The hedgehog is my favorite.”
“He’s cute, isn’t he?”
The two of them gazed at each other in perfect charity for a moment longer before a boy with blond hair and a prominent widow’s peak tried to draw Celeste’s attention.
“Ms. Nichols. Hey, Ms. Nichols. How do we glue on the hat?”
“I’ll show you. Just a minute.” She turned back to Olivia. “It was very nice to meet you. You’re doing a great job with your snowman. Thanks for letting me know you enjoy the book.”
“You’re welcome.”
When she left, Olivia turned back to her project with renewed effort. She was busy gluing on the button eyes when the woman beside Flynn finally spoke to him.
“You’re new in town. I don’t think we’ve met.” She was blonde and pretty in a classic sort of way, with a baby on her hip. “I’m Caroline Dalton. This is my daughter, Lindy. Over there is my son, Cole.”
He knew the Daltons. They owned much of the upper portion of Cold Creek Canyon. Which brother was she married to?
“Hello. I’m Flynn Delaney, and this is my daughter, Olivia. We’re not really new in town. That is, we’re not staying anyway. We’re here just for a few weeks, and then we’re going back to California.”
“I hope you feel welcome here. This is a lovely place to spend the holidays.”
“I’m sure it is, but we’re not really tourists, either. I’m cleaning out my grandmother’s home so I can put it up for sale.”
He could have hired someone to come and clean out the house. There were companies that handled exactly that sort of thing, but as he and Olivia were Charlotte’s only surviving descendants, he’d felt obligated to go through the house himself.
“Delaney. Oh, Charlotte! She must have been your grandmother.”
“That’s right.”
Her features turned soft and a little sad. “Oh, everyone adored your grandmother. What a firecracker she was! Pine Gulch just doesn’t feel the same without her.”
His life didn’t feel the same, either. He hadn’t seen her often the past few years, just quick semiannual visits, but she had been a steady source of affection and warmth in his chaotic life.
He had barely had the chance to grieve her passing. That bothered him more than anything else. He hadn’t even been able to attend the memorial service members of her church congregation had held for her here. He had been too busy in the ICU, praying for his daughter’s life.
“I miss her, too,” he said quietly.
She looked at him with kindness and warmth. “I’m sure you do. She was an amazing person and I feel blessed to have known her. If you need help sorting through things, please let me know. I’m sure we could find people to give you a hand.”
With only a little more than a week to go before Christmas? He doubted that. People were probably too busy to help.
He didn’t bother to express his cynicism to Caroline Dalton. “Thanks,” he said instead.
“Despite your difficult task, I hope you’re able to find a little holiday spirit while you’re here.”
Yeah, he wasn’t a huge Christmas fan for a whole slew of reasons, but he saw no reason to share that with a woman he’d just met.
“Daddy, I can’t tie the scarf. Can you help me?” Olivia asked.
She could use her left arm and hand. He’d seen her do it at therapy or when she lost herself in an activity, but most of the time she