LITMIR.BIZ

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instead of that water?”

      Jade’s green eyes looked to Jesse for permission.

      He nodded. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

      “No trouble at all.” Lindsey started toward a country-kitchen area opening off one end of the living room. At the doorway, she turned. “How about you? Coffee?”

      The woman behaved as if he were a guest instead of a total stranger looking for work. The notion made him uncomfortable as all get out, especially considering why he was here. He didn’t want her to be nice. He couldn’t afford to like her.

      Fortunately, he’d never developed a taste for coffee, not even the fancy kind that Erin enjoyed. “No thanks.”

      “I have some Cokes if you’d rather.”

      He sighed in defeat. He’d give a ten-dollar bill this morning for a sharp jolt of cold carbonated caffeine.

      “A Coke sounds good.” He shifted Jade onto the couch. Her hair was a mess and he realized he’d been in such a hurry to get here this morning, he hadn’t even noticed. Normally, a headband was the best he could do, but today he’d even forgotten that. So much for first impressions. Using his fingers, he smoothed the dark locks as much as possible. Jade aimed a wobbly grin at him and shrugged. She’d grown accustomed to his awkward attempts to make her look like a little girl.

      He glanced toward the kitchen, saw that Lindsey’s back was turned. With one hand holding his daughter’s, he took the few moments when Lindsey wasn’t in sight to let his gaze drift around the house. It had changed—either that or his perception was different. Eighteen years was a long time.

      The wood floors, polished to a rich, honeyed glow, looked the same. And the house still bore the warm, inviting feel of a country farmhouse. But now, the rooms seemed lighter, brighter. Where he remembered a certain dreariness brought on by his mother’s illness, someone—Lindsey Mitchell, he supposed—had drenched the rooms in light and color—warm colors of polished oak and yellow-flowered curtains.

      The house looked simple, uncluttered and sparkling clean—a lot like Lindsey Mitchell herself.

      “Here we go.” Lindsey’s smoky voice yanked him around. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his intense interest. No point in raising her suspicions. He had no intention of letting her know the real reason he was here until he had the proof in his hands.

      “Yum, Juicy Juice.” Jade came alive at the sight of a cartoon-decorated box of apple juice. “Thank you.”

      Lindsey favored her with another of those smiles that set Jesse’s stomach churning. “I have some gummy fruits in there too if you’d like some—the kind with smiley faces.”

      Jade paused in the process of stabbing the straw into the top of her juice carton. “Do you have a little girl?”

      Jesse was wondering the same thing, though the townspeople claimed she lived alone up here. Why would a single woman keep kid foods on hand?

      If he hadn’t been watching her closely to hear the answer to Jade’s questions, he’d have missed the cloud that passed briefly over Lindsey’s face. But he had seen it and wondered.

      “No.” She handed him a drippy can of Coke wrapped in a paper towel. “No little girls of my own, but I teach a Sunday-school class, and the kids like to come out here pretty often.”

      Great. A Sunday-school teacher. Just what he didn’t need—a Bible-thumping church lady who raised Christmas trees.

      “What do they come to your house for?” Jade asked with interest. “Do you gots toys?”

      “Better than toys.” Lindsey eased down into a big brown easy chair, set her coffee cup on an end table and leaned toward Jade. Her shoulder-length hair swept forward across her full mouth. She hooked it behind one ear. “We play games, have picnics or hayrides, go hiking. Lots of fun activities. And,” she smiled, pausing for effect, “I have Christmas trees year-round.”

      Christmas trees. Jesse suppressed a shiver of dread. Could he really work among the constant reminders of all he’d lost?

      Jade smoothly sidestepped a discussion of the trees, though he saw the wariness leap into her eyes. “I used to go to Sunday school.”

      “Maybe you can go with me some time. We have great fun and learn about Jesus.”

      Jesse noticed some things he’d missed before. A Bible lay open on an end table near the television, and a plain silver cross hung on one wall flanked by a decorative candle on each side. Stifling an inner sigh, he swallowed a hefty swig of cola and felt the fire burn all the way down his throat. He could work for a card-carrying Christian. He had to. Jade deserved this one last chance.

      “We don’t go anymore since Mama died.”

      Jesse grew uncomfortably warm as Lindsey turned her eyes on him. Was she judging him? Finding him unfit as a father because he didn’t want his child growing up with false hopes about a God who’d let you down when you needed him most?

      He tried to shrug it off. No way he wanted to offend this woman and blow the chance of working here. As much as he hated making excuses, he had to. “We’ve moved a lot lately.”

      “Are you planning to be in Winding Stair long?”

      “Permanently,” he said. And he hoped that was true. He hadn’t stayed in one spot since leaving this mountain as a scared and angry teenager. Even during his marriage, he’d roamed like a wild maverick following the rodeo or traveling with an electric-line crew, while Erin remained in Enid to raise Jade. “But first I need a job.”

      “Okay. Let’s talk about that. I know everyone within twenty miles of Winding Stair, but I don’t know you. Tell me about yourself.”

      He sat back, trying to hide his expression behind another long, burning pull of the soda. He hadn’t expected her to ask that. He thought she might ask for references or about his experience, but not about him specifically. And given the situation, the less she knew the better.

      “Not much to tell. I’m a widower with a little girl to support. I’m dependable. I’ll work hard and do a good job.” He stopped short of saying she wouldn’t regret hiring him. Eventually, she would.

      Lindsey studied him with a serene expression and a slight curve of a full lower lip. He wondered if she was always so calm.

      “Where are you from?”

      “Enid mostly,” he answered, naming the small town west of Oklahoma City that had been more Erin’s home than his.

      “I went to a rodeo there once when I was in college.”

      “Yeah?” He’d made plenty of rodeos there himself.

      With a nod, she folded her arms. “What did you do in Enid? I know they don’t raise trees in those parts.”

      He allowed a smile at that one. The opening to the Great Plains, the land around Enid was as flat as a piece of toast.

      “Worked lineman crews most of the time and some occasional rodeo. But I’ve done a little of everything.”

      “Lineman? As in electricity?”

      “Yes, ma’am. I’ve helped string half the power lines between Texas and Arkansas.”

      His answer seemed to please her, though he had no idea what electricity had to do with raising Christmas trees.

      “How soon could you begin working?”

      “Today.”

      She blinked and sat back, taking her coffee with her. “Don’t you even want to know what the job will entail?”

      “I need work, Miss Mitchell. I can do about anything and I’m not picky.”

      “People are generally surprised to discover that growing Christmas trees takes a lot of hard work and know-how.

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