Read Online Holiday in Your Heart by Susan Fox - Free Book Online Page B

she did sound curious, and almost . . . caring.
    â€œIt went okay.” He paused. “I wondered if maybe I could come by and tell you about it.” Quickly, he added, “Though you’re probably busy.”
    â€œI was just, um, doing some research on the computer. It can wait. Sure, come on over.”
    â€œI could pick something up. Bottle of wine?” He had no problem being around people who were drinking.
    â€œThanks, but don’t bother.”
    â€œOkay. I’m at the garage. I’ll walk over now.”
    â€œSee you soon.”
    Walking was good. Mo’d always been a physical guy, and he tended to walk a lot of miles every day. Tonight, striding along the drizzly, almost-deserted streets got his blood flowing. Not wanting to show up empty-handed, he stopped at a corner store that was still open and picked up a bunch of brightly colored flowers that reminded him of Maribeth.
    Yesterday, she’d taken him into her house through the garage. Tonight, he went up the front walk, thinking how appealing her house looked with light glowing out an uncurtained front window and smoke rising from the chimney. It wasn’t just a house, it was a home, and again it struck him as strange that Maribeth didn’t have a husband and two or three kids sharing it with her.
    On the porch, he shook like a dog, trying to rid his hair and jacket of some of the dampness before ringing the bell.
    The door opened and Maribeth stood there like a vision of . . . well, of something he didn’t even recognize. Something warm and welcoming, like maybe the home that as a boy he used to dream about. A home that his ever-bickering, ever-demanding parents sure hadn’t provided.
    Maribeth’s red hair gleamed, a coral zip-front top hugged her generous breasts, and gray leggings showcased her curvy hips and shapely legs. Sliding his gaze down all this perfection, he reached her feet and had to grin. The sexy, stylish woman wore fluffy slippers with puppy-dog faces. “Nice slippers,” he commented.
    She stepped back, ushering him inside. “I love them. I wore them as a kid, and one of my old, good friends gives me a new pair every Christmas.”
    â€œWhat do you give her?”
    â€œPajamas with moo-cows.”
    He laughed, feeling almost lighthearted for the first time in forever. Optimism filled him in a tingly surge. Things with Brooke had gone as well as he could reasonably have wished. He and his ex had a long way to go—and she’d yet to agree to see him again, much less tell him she thought it was okay to contact Evan—but he was hopeful. And now here he was with one of the most attractive women he’d ever seen, who was ushering him into her home with a big smile and a pair of puppy-dog slippers.
    â€œYou’re all wet,” she commented. “Honestly, I don’t know what men have against umbrellas.”
    â€œThey’re not manly. We guys have to be macho,” he joked as he put down the flowers and peeled off his wet jacket.
    â€œPfft.” She rolled her eyes and took the jacket from him gingerly. “Look up macho in a thesaurus. The synonym’s ‘stupid.’”
    â€œI believe you.”
    Taking a hanger from the hall closet, she put his jacket on it and hung the hanger on the doorknob, not in the closet where it would get her clothes wet. “Come on in and get warm.”
    He picked up the flowers and handed them to her. “These are for you.”
    â€œI kind of figured.” She took them. “They’re beautiful, but . . .” She tilted her head to look up at him. “Flowers seem kind of like a ‘date’ thing, and you don’t date, right?”
    If he were going to date, she was the woman he’d want to go out with. He was in a new place, maybe building a new life. Why shouldn’t he have more than a one-nighter? Why shouldn’t he actually date a woman if he wanted to? If she wanted