Read Online Come Home For Christmas by Susanne Matthews - Free Book Online

hungry,” she said and smiled to take the sting out of words that had obviously hurt the child. “Your grandpa was just teasing you. What would you like for breakfast?” She reached for a tissue and wiped her eyes.
    “Can you make pancakes?” Leah asked.
    “I can.”
    “Chocolate chip ones?”
    “If Mrs. Jones has chocolate chips in the pantry.”
    “She does. Right over here,” Leah said, opening the door to the large walk-in pantry.
    Four hours later, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of homemade beef and barley soup simmering on the stove and the scent of both chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies cooling on the rack. She and Leah had been out to the barn to see the horses, and had taken Rascal out for his morning walk, although they had stuck to the cleared paths around the house and the barns. Leah and Rascal had played on the edges of the paths with the child insisting it was ideal snow angel making weather. She’d plopped down half a dozen times along the path to the barn. Now, the little dog was exhausted, parked on the sofa next to his mistress in the living room, watching The Backyardigans.
    Krista stood at the sink, lost in thought, drying the last bowl she’d used to mix cookie dough. She jumped when a man’s hand came down on her shoulder and raised her own to protect herself, humiliated by the look of stunned surprise on Ethan’s face. She put down her hands and turned away to put the dish in the cupboard.
    “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, hoping he hadn’t noticed her terror.
    “I came in through the front after shoveling the walk.”
    She heard the concern in his voice and prayed he wouldn’t ask, although from her reaction, he had to know his touch had upset her.
    “Something smells good,” he said. “Where’s Leah?”
    “Watching Treehouse with Rascal. The little sheltie is certainly quiet. We took him out for a walk this morning. What have you got there?” she asked, noting the box he carried.
    “Her new boots and your old ones, resoled with brand new heels. You can see yours, but hers are a Christmas present. I’ve got to sneak them upstairs to hide them.”
    She wiped her hands on the tea towel at her waist. “I’ll carry them up to my room and put them in the closet. You can move them tonight after she’s in bed. There’s fresh coffee in the pot.”
    Reaching for the box, she hurried up the stairs, hoping to calm her hammering heart. How long would she be this way, jumping each time a man touched her? Ethan would never hurt her, yet her reaction had been instinctive. After depositing the box on the floor of her closet, she washed her face, combed her hair, and refreshed her lip gloss. When she returned to the kitchen, Luke sat at the table, a warm cookie halfway to his mouth. He stopped and looked at her guiltily.
    “I’ve waited ten years to taste these. Don’t tell me I have to wait until later.”
    She chuckled. “I seriously doubt Jonesy didn’t bake you cookies.”
    “But they weren’t yours, and I love yours,” he replied soberly.
    She swallowed awkwardly. His words warmed her heart, but there was a universe between “I love your cookies” and “I love you.”
    “Go ahead. Never let it be said I made you beg for baked goods. Besides, I’m sure you worked hard enough this morning to have two.” She poured herself a cup of coffee, doctored it the way she liked it, and sat across from him, her emotions under control once more. “How are the animals?”
    “Good. Smarter than most people think. They were all huddled together in the stables out of the wind. They’ll be fine, no matter what Mother Nature throws at them. This kind of weather isn’t much of a problem now, but once calving starts, it can be murder. I brought in milk. It’s in the fridge. It’s up to you if you want to skim the cream off. Jonesy usually takes some of it off for baking and desserts, and shakes the rest into the milk. The eggs are on the counter.” He pointed