LITMIR.BIZ

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didn’t have any sort of guardianship papers or even a birth certificate. Worried that Gabi would be taken from her and placed into foster care, she had fudged the paperwork at the school. Thinking the school authorities would be more likely to take her word for things if she was Gabi’s mother rather than merely an older sister, she had called upon the grifting skills she hadn’t used in years to convince the secretary she didn’t know where Gabi’s birth certificate was after a succession of moves—not technically a lie.

      The secretary had been gratifyingly understanding and told Becca merely to bring them when she could find them. From that moment, they were stuck in the lie. She didn’t want to think about Trace Bowman’s reaction if he found out she was perpetrating a fraud on the school and the community. She wasn’t a poor single mother trying to eke out a living with her daughter. She was stuck in a situation that seemed to grow more complicated by the minute.

      â€œI still think he’s nice,” Gabi said. “He brought us a Christmas tree.”

      She wanted to warn her sister to run far, far away from sexy men bearing warm smiles and unexpected charm. “You’re right. That was a very kind thing to do. Actually, it was his niece’s idea, right? You must have made a good friend in Destry Bowman.”

      â€œShe’s nice,” Gabi said, avoiding her gaze. “Where do you think you saw the ornaments?”

      An interesting reaction. She frowned at Gabi but didn’t comment, especially when her sister found the box of ornaments just a moment later, next to a box of 1950s-era women’s clothing.

      Her grandmother’s, perhaps? From the attorney who notified her of the bequest, she had learned the woman had died years ago, before she was born, but other than that she didn’t know anything about her. Since coming to Pine Gulch, she had been thinking how surreal it was to live in her grandfather’s house when she didn’t know anything about him, surrounded by the personal belongings of a stranger.

      She had picked up bits and pieces since she’d arrived in town that indicated that her father and grandfather had fought bitterly before she was born. She didn’t know the full story and wasn’t sure she ever would, but Donna told her that her father had apparently vowed never to speak to his own father again. She could guess the reason. Probably her mother had something to do with it. Monica was very good at finding ways to destroy relationships around her.

      Kenneth Taylor had been killed in a motorcycle crash when Becca was a toddler and her parents had never been married. Her only memories of him were a bushy mustache and sideburns and a deep, warm voice telling her stories at night.

      She’d been curious about her father’s family over the years, but Monica had refused to talk about him. She hadn’t even known her grandfather was still alive until she’d heard from that Idaho Falls attorney a few months earlier, right in the middle of her own legal trouble. When he had told her she had inherited a small house in Idaho, the news had seemed an answer to prayer. She had been thinking she and Gabi would wind up homeless if she couldn’t figure something out and suddenly she had learned she owned a house in a town she’d never visited.

      This sturdy little Craftsman cottage was dark and neglected, but she knew she could make a happy home here for her and Gabi, their lies notwithstanding.

      As long as the police chief left her alone.

      Females with secrets. He’d certainly seen his share of those.

      Trace carefully wound the colored lights on the branches of their Christmas tree, listening to Becca and Gabi talk quietly as they pulled glass ornaments from a cardboard box. Something was not exactly as it appeared in this household. He couldn’t put his finger on what precisely it might be but he’d caught more than one unreadable exchange of glances between Becca and her daughter, as if they were each warning the other to be careful with her words.

      What secrets could they have? He had to wonder if they were on the run from something. A jealous ex? A custody dispute? That was the logical conclusion but not one that sat comfortably with him. He didn’t like the idea that Becca might be breaking the law, or worse, in danger somehow. That would certainly make his attraction for her even more inconvenient.

      He couldn’t have said why he was still here. His plan when Destry had begged him to do this had been to merely do a quick drop-off of the tree, the stand and the lights. He’d intended to let Becca and Gabi deal with the tree while he headed down the street for a comfortable night of basketball in front of the big screen with his squash-faced little dog at his feet.

      Instead, when he had shown up on the doorstep, she had looked so obviously taken aback—and touched, despite herself—that he had decided spending a little time with the two of them was more fascinating than even the most fierce battle on the hardwood.

      He wasn’t sorry. Gabi was a great kid. Smart and funny, with clever little observations about life. She, at least, had been thrilled by the donated Christmas tree, almost as if she’d never had a tree before. At some point, Gabi had tuned in on a Christmas station on a small boom box–type radio she brought from her bedroom. Though he still wasn’t a big fan of the holiday, he couldn’t deny there was something very appealing about working together on a quiet evening while snowflakes fluttered down outside and Nat King Cole’s velvet voice filled the room.

      It reminded him of happier memories when he was a kid, before the Christmas that had changed everything.

      â€œThat’s the last of the lights. You ready to flip the switch?”

      â€œCan I?” Gabi asked, her eyes bright.

      â€œSure thing.”

      She plugged in the lights and they reflected green and red and gold in her eyes. “It looks wonderful!”

      â€œIt really does,” Becca agreed. “Thank you for your help.”

      Her words were another clear dismissal and he decided to ignore it. He wasn’t quite ready to leave this warm room yet. “Now we can start putting up those ornaments.”

      She chewed her lip, clearly annoyed with him, but he only smiled and reached into the box for a couple of colored globes.

      â€œSo where were you before you moved to Pine Gulch?” he asked after a few moments of hanging ornaments. Though he pitted his question as casual curiosity, she didn’t seem fooled.

      Becca and her daughter exchanged another look and she waited a moment before answering. “Arizona,” she finally said, her voice terse.

      â€œWere you waitressing there?”

      â€œNo. I did a lot of different things,” she said evasively. “What about you? How long have you been chief of police for the good people of Pine Gulch?”

      He saw through her attempt to deflect his questions. He was fond of the same technique when he wanted to guide a particular discussion in an interview. He thought about calling her on it but decided to let her set the tone. This wasn’t an interrogation, after all. Only a conversation.

      â€œI’ve been on the force for about ten years, chief for the last three.”

      â€œYou seem young for the job.”

      â€œI’m thirty-two. Not that young. You must have been a baby yourself when you had Gabi, right?”

      He thought he saw a tiny flicker of something indefinable in the depths of her hazel eyes but she quickly concealed it. “Something like that. I was eighteen when she was born. What about you? Any wife and kiddos in the picture?”

      Again the diversionary tactics. Interesting. “Nope. Never married. Just my brothers and a sister.”

      â€œAnd you all live close?”

      â€œRight. My older brother runs

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